Chapter 17 #2
Paxton’s hand shoots up. “Even though all seventy-two planets have a similar core and composition, the variance in mass between them is significant. Moreover, each planet’s distance from its sun is fundamental to understanding gravitational pull, and this isn’t factoring in the gravity from Sgya and the suns’ own orbits around it.
We should also consider tidal drag from surrounding moons, angular momentum, and the spin of the protoplanetary disk.
Even if every planet were an exact replica of the other with identical mass, orbits, and moons, it would still be impossible. ”
“Excellent, Duke Leighton!” Professor Mathison praises, “And why is it that our planets have exact rotations and orbits despite all of these factors?”
I glance over to Tate, sharing a reassuring nod. We’ve had extensive discussions on this topic recently, and I know he could use the participation points to bolster his grade.
“Magic?” Tate ventures hesitantly. Professor Mathison nods, a slight frown on his lips.
“Yes, magic, Lord Kinnunen,” he acknowledges, crossing his arms. “But let’s remember to raise our hands next time, yes?”
Tate huffs in annoyance, sitting back.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “He’ll still give you points.”
“As Lord Kinnunen pointed out,” Professor Mathison continues, his glasses falling down his snub nose, “magic. We don’t yet fully understand why the gods chose to impart these particularities on our system, but we know that prior to the veil, the planets operated independently on their own calendars.
Now,” he declares, moving back to change the hologram.
“Today, we will learn about telling time when you don’t have a clock. ”
By the end of the day, I’m scrambling to get dressed for running club.
I reach for my lilac sports bra, featuring delicate straps that criss-cross elegantly across my back.
It’s a favorite of mine, and I pair it with lace-trimmed shorts.
Am I dressing up for him? Maybe…fine, yes.
Still, I feel the strange need for him to notice me.
Once dressed, I rebraid my hair and finish with a quick dab of blush on my cheeks.
As expected, the students grumble about us rerunning the arena stairs, but I remind them how good it will feel when we’re done.
It isn’t long before we arrive at the arena, and I spot Anders making his way into practice.
He’s dressed in athletic shorts, his torso gloriously bare, and a shirt hanging haphazardly out of the waistband of his shorts.
My heart skips a beat at the sight of him.
I inhale deeply, reminding myself not to be a coward. Waving my team forward, I jog to catch up with him. “Hey,” I call out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He nods, a slight smile playing on his lips as we step away from the flow of runners.
As he tugs me closer, his palms molding around my hips, a surge of energy pulses between us. The warmth of his calloused hands on my body sends my mind racing with thoughts of where else those hands could wander. I almost forget what I came here to say.
Clearing my throat to regain my thoughts, I muster up the courage to just ask.
“So, I wanted to say thank you for the invite at lunch. It was really kind of you.” I step back, putting some distance between us, which I desperately need to gather my thoughts or potentially sprint away if things don’t go well. “Maybe tomorrow?”
He raises his brows, a teasing glint in his sapphire eyes, waiting for me to elaborate.
His thumbs hook casually into the waistband of his shorts, and I can’t help but admire the deep grooves of that delicious ‘V’ at his hips.
Gods, why does he have to be so…so…distracting?
“Eyes up here, Princess,” he crows, and my cheeks flush as I realize I’ve been staring.
I glance up, crossing my arms. “Do you always have to be shirtless?”
“Do you always have to dress like that?” he counters, gesturing to my outfit with an appreciative gaze. I shrug, delighting in the way his gaze cascades down my body.
“What about tomorrow?” he probes, his expression shifting to something dangerous.
“Maybe tomorrow we can have lunch down by the river?” I attempt to play it cool despite my racing heart. Please say yes. He studies me for what feels like forever, then tugs me closer, our bodies colliding with a surge of heat.
He leans down, dragging his nose along my neck, sending a pulse of power through my whole body.
“A whole lunch hour with you sounds like a dream,” he purrs into my ear, his voice deep.
My body responds instinctively, leaning closer until my chest brushes against his.
My breath quickens as I wrap my hands around his biceps, feeling the muscles and strength below.
“Is that a yes?” I tilt my head up to look into his eyes, suddenly aware of how close our faces are.
His eyes dip to my lips, the moment thick with desire, just as someone clears their throat behind us. I jolt away from him, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something scandalous. Turning around, we find Trysten, who’s doing a poor job of hiding what looks like a smile.
“Want me to start with warmups?” His gaze shifts between Anders and me. Anders clenches his jaw, grinding his molars, clearly annoyed at the interruption. I can’t blame him.
“I’ll be there in a minute. We’re all training on defense today.
” Trysten nods and takes off at a run, probably to give us some sense of privacy.
“I’ll grab the food,” Anders says, brushing a hand through his hair.
Our charged moment vanishes. Looking to where Trysten has retreated, he sighs.
“See you later, Princess.” He saunters away, hands tucked into his pockets.
And just like that, I’m left with a mix of excitement for tomorrow and disappointment that, once again, we didn’t kiss.
“Keep your head up,” Trysten barks, launching at me after instructing me to watch for weaknesses and where he keeps himself unguarded. Moments later, his bō staff connects with my side, sending me tumbling to the ground.
I let out a groan as I rise again, “I’m exhausted.
” Running the stadium seemed like a good idea initially, but after practice, Trysten found me and said to meet him in the Taeolyn gym.
I had begun to protest about it being a running day, but he just shot me a terrifying grin.
I didn’t have it in me to argue. By then, I could barely stand, and now every breath, every wobbly step, hurts.
“Exactly.” He circles me, the staff swirling in his hands.
“I want you to be tired so you can learn how to push through, how to think. You think an opponent will pause to check if you’re well-rested?
” Though nausea churns in my stomach from over-exertion, I push through my weariness, reminding myself I need this.
Trysten has been relentless in our training this week, even now, despite my exhaustion.
I can’t argue with Anders’ and Trysten’s assessment that I haven’t been trained as I should be. Maybe I should have asked Kuron to train me when I was home instead of Melaina, one of the female Regils.
I barely have the energy to remain standing, but memories of the three men surrounding me and capturing me makes my spine straighten as I circle Trysten.
When I consider how I almost lost my Bond last year and how helpless I felt both times, I take up my stance.
I will not be weak. It’s become my mantra every time I want to give up.
Squaring my shoulders, I give my approval to start again, watching Trysten’s movements as he advances.
I block the first strike, my arms shaking with fatigue as he presses down on our crossed staffs.
How he has energy after practice, I have no idea.
I go on the offense, spinning away from him to disorient his next attack and bring my staff down upon his back with a loud thwack.
Over the next hour, our bodies dance in exhausted movement as we train. He proves to me, over and over again, how badly I need this. He doesn’t even have to try to break through my defenses. I have none.
We continue the training until Anders comes to collect me, stepping in and declaring that I’ve had enough for today. I don’t fight him when he offers me an arm to lean on as he guides me to the elevator, knowing I’d never make it up the stairs.