Chapter 32 #2
If someone had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have confidently declared Kellan my choice—if I had one.
He’s always been my best friend, and my heart feels safe with him.
Yet, somewhere along the lines, the dynamics have shifted.
Anders has somehow woven himself into the fabric of my life, becoming an all-consuming need that I can’t seem to satiate.
The Academy Hall is lit brightly when we arrive. The roofline is sloped, resembling a gentle wave in the forest, with glittering walls of glass and windows. Inside, I can see soft lights illuminating the open space that awaits us.
As we enter the space designed to accommodate the nearly two thousand students and faculty on campus, I take in the hundred or so tables decorating the usually expansive floor and along the walkways, separated by lush planters that typically line the edges of the room.
The balconies that rise above on the three sides are shadowed, and behind the dais, the wall of windows reveals the twin moons in a blanket of stars.
I find a seat in the corner near the dais, not nearly as excited as my classmates for this exercise, as Professor Becca uses her projection magic to display clocks above each desk.
Once all the women have settled into their seats, Professor Becca takes up a position behind me on the dais. “Gentlemen, you may now find a seat,” she relays.
The men shift awkwardly, their shoes squeaking on the polished floor.
Just as I catch a glimpse of Kellan and Anders making their way towards me, a man from Veker slides into the empty seat across from mine, blocking them from view.
I suppress a sigh, forcing my lips into the best smile I can muster.
Despite the mess of all this bonding stuff, I remind myself that I am still a princess, and there’s a chance that the prophecy may not even link to me.
And, as Anders said, we still have to conduct The Ceremony, which means I will eventually have to narrow it down to a large group of men to undergo the testing with.
For the next couple of minutes, the man I’ve learned is named Arne launches into a series of clumsy flirtations, each one more uncomfortable than the last. I grimace inwardly as he chuckles over his attempts to impress me with the significance of my name and his.
“Raya,” which isn’t even my name, but not that I’ll point that out.
He claims it means queen, and his means eagle, and with the Treon family crest being an eagle, well…
it’s a stretch. Just when I think I can’t endure anymore, I’m rescued when the timer signals the end of our interaction.
Relief washes over me. I just hope that they get better from here on out.
As Arne shuffles away, another man takes his place.
“Princess Raea,” Lord Syzmon greets me with a deep bow.
He’s a senior from Ateria, and I immediately sense we have no Bond.
I muster a patient smile while he stumbles through his own round of flirting.
Meanwhile, I burn under the intense gaze of either Kellan or Anders, their eyes boring into me from across the room. I resist the urge to look.
When the two-minute timer is up, I relax and roll my shoulders.
I can do this.
The new kid, Gunnar, takes a seat next before a junior boy from my politics class can. Gunnar’s blue eyes light with arrogance as he leans back, relaxing into the chair.
“We haven’t had the pleasure yet, Princess Raea,” he says flirtatiously.
“I’ve heard nothing but intriguing tales about you.
” His tone drips with narcissism, and I can’t help but wonder how Anders could be friends with someone like him.
Then again, I feel the same way about Sienna, who’s currently glaring at me like she’s plotting my death.
“Gunnar,” I reply, sliding on my facade as the poised princess. “Tell me more about yourself.”
I straighten my posture and tilt my head, trying to maintain an air of indifference.
He’s cute in a way, with an air of don’t-give-a–shit—a fact he’s clearly aware of.
He has ice-blue eyes, and his tousled auburn hair falls in loose waves around his face.
A hint of scruff frames his jaw, and his fitted navy shirt reveals toned muscles beneath, contrasting with the paleness of his skin.
I almost ask why he isn’t tan like the other Okenen men in my life, but then I realize I’m just comparing him, and unfortunately for him, I find him lacking.
“I think I’d rather hear about you. What’s your favorite color?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow with his teasing smirk.
Oh, he’s definitely a flirt, but two can play the game. At least he’s keeping things interesting.
“Green,” I reply casually, “like the fever thistles that blanket Kyrr in the summer. Or the pale pink Azaleas in Okenen.” I lean back in my chair, feigning boredom, but inwardly I can sense that he sees right through me and is ready for the challenge.
“Favorite book?” he fires back.
“The Tales of Emberlee Rose.” I’m aware that it’s not my definitive favorite, since my love for literature spans many genres, but it would be impossible to choose just one. Still, that novel has left me with a severe book hangover.
“Romance. Steamy. Okay,” he says with a seductive pull of his lips, making me blush.
“Ten seconds,” I tease, pointing to the timer above us.
“How would you feel about taking a walk after this so we can get to know each other better?”
I momentarily freeze. Did he just ask me on a date? Heat rises in my cheeks for the second time in under two minutes.
“Think about it.” He winks, standing just as the timer sounds.
What. The. Hell.
The dumb ripples of light hit me like a shockwave, sending waves of yellow crashing over me.
Damn it.
Reluctantly, I mark him down on the app open on my tablet. If I don’t, I won’t get credit.
Six more men sit in front of me. They’re all kind but more interested in touting their accomplishments and accolades. Only one of them do I sense even the slightest flicker of light. Or maybe it’s fatigue. I mark him down anyway and look up, knowing we have time for about four more.
“Princess,” he purrs, the word rolling off his tongue with a velvety smoothness that sends a jolt of energy through me.
My heart races as our eyes lock, his stormy blue depths captivating me completely.
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
He looks devilishly handsome, especially in the warm, golden light that accentuates every angle of his chiseled features.
The formal black attire clings to his tan, inked skin in a way that stirs something deep within me, igniting a flame low in my belly as I think of the strength of his arms around me.
There’s a rush of pure happiness in seeing him, my friend, my… maybe something more.
He returns my smile, a look of wonder playing across his face, his gaze unwavering. I notice his breath hitch, and he nearly stumbles as he takes a seat across from me, making the air feel thick with tension.
“What?”
“You’ve never smiled like that at me. Everyone else. Never me,” he admits, his voice carrying a blend of surprise and admiration. “It’s beautiful.”
The weight of his words sinks in, and suddenly my smile falters. A heavy stone lodges in my throat at his admission.
Have I truly never offered him my full, unguarded smile before?
It’s one I typically reserve for those closest to me.
Realization washes over me, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been such a bitch and a terrible friend.
I set my pen down, flipping the tablet over to hide the list of names I’ve been scribbling—names that now feel trivial compared to the feelings flooding my chest. We’re fated to Bond, and all I’ve done is push him away.
His hand covers mine, and it’s a cataclysmic event. Longing. Fear. Hope. Comfort. Heat. Desire.
Forever.
It’s as if each nerve ending in my body awakens, sending a delightful shiver racing through me. I try to convince myself that I’m overreacting, but every second he holds my hand reminds me that this connection is far more intense than I’ve ever allowed it to be.
A sharp gasp escapes my lips, and warmth floods my cheeks, the kind of heat only he seems to elicit.
His fingers interlace with mine, flipping the tablet over.
The movement is slow, almost sensual. When I dare to look at his mouth, my curiosity piques—I wonder what he might taste like.
Does he have that lingering minty freshness from earlier?
The thought makes my pulse race. I want to know.
Hell, I want to feel his mouth all over me.
“Interesting,” he remarks, breaking my reverie.
I snap my gaze to his eyes, confusion swirling within me. His grin surfaces, and that irritatingly charming dimple makes an appearance. If I weren’t already seated, I might just float away from the sheer effect he has on me.
“What?” I manage to ask, my voice unintentionally breathy, betraying the whirlwind of erotic thoughts playing out in my mind.
“Your list,” he says with a playful lilt. “What else would I be talking about?”
As if he can sense my thoughts, his eyes darken.
My stomach twists at the mere mention of it, but not in a bad way.
My body seems to have a mind of its own, finding new ways to self-destruct, reacting to his words with reckless abandon.
I press my thighs together, desperate to regain some semblance of composure.
“Seems I have a few options,” I respond with a touch of sass, but inside, I cringe at my choice of words.
Options? Gods, open the ground and swallow me whole. When did I lose my ability to talk to him?
“Princess, we both know that’s not true,” he counters, his tone carrying an undeniable certainty that feels a lot like a promise.