Chapter 6
Maeve
BLANK PARCHMENT STARES UP AT me from my desk. I have my inkwell full, my quill poised to write, and my hair tied back from my face.
This is a good start. Professor Azula’s words echo in my mind, and I narrow my eyes.
A good start? This was a full summer of work.
I clench my fingers around my quill.
Lying on the desk beside my blank parchment is the essay I gave to Professor Azula. I felt so sure about it, but now, as I side-eye it, I wonder where I went wrong.
The Arcanum Collective isn’t looking for an impassioned student with big dreams and bigger ideas; they’re looking for a graduate with focus and deliberation.
Focus. Deliberation. Control. These words keep coming back to me. But I am focused.
Am I controlled?
I think of the energy sphere I created this morning, the amount of effort and strength it took to hold it together for even a few seconds.
And deep inside, my stomach turns with the worry that I might not be strong enough for this.
If I can’t demonstrate my theory to the Arcanum Collective, there’s no way they’ll award me the fellowship. Then what will I do after graduation?
“Maeve,” Isis hisses gently from where she’s coiled around a tall silver candlestick standing on the corner of the desk.
I flick my gaze up to her and meet her slitted eyes.
“It’s been a long day. You don’t need to do this now.” She dips her glossy black head toward my parchment, where I’ve still yet to write a word.
At first, I want to argue. I need to do this right. But the thought of starting over makes me feel like sending bolts of lightning bursting from my fingertips, so Isis is probably right. Even if I’m not happy about it.
With a groan, I release the death grip on my quill and let it clatter to my desk. “You’re right,” I say.
She flicks her tongue at me, giving me a look that says, I always am.
I cap my inkwell and slide my essay and blank parchment into the desk drawer, then glide my fingers softly over Isis’s head before standing and going to join Poppy in the sitting room.
Alina and Lyra are up in our loft, but Poppy is curled up in her favorite chair, a blanket draped over her lap, an old book and a sheet of parchment balanced on her legs.
I sink onto the couch across from her. “Don’t tell me you’re studying already,” I grumble.
Poppy’s lips turn up in a small smile, but she doesn’t meet my eyes, still focusing on the book. “Of course not. I’m working on translating these orcish runes.”
She finally looks up, and I notice the necklace she’s wearing, with the ring Aric gave her hanging from the chain.
“Wasn’t that his mom’s?” I saw him with it all last year, after Poppy helped him with the rune map early in the semester.
Poppy’s brown cheeks go a little pink, and she nods as she takes it in her fingers and holds it up.
“Yeah. She didn’t get a chance to teach him their runes before she passed, and I’m determined to figure them out.
Though . . . they’re a bit trickier than I expected.
” She lowers the ring and tilts her head.
“I think I might need to go back to the library.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say. “I could use the walk.” My brow furrows. “Isn’t the library closed though?”
Poppy’s smile goes a little bashful. “The librarian gave me my own key. But don’t tell anyone; I’m really not supposed to access it after hours.”
I laugh, making Poppy blush some more. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Poppy puts her book and notes away and folds the blanket, and then we slip our boots on and call up to Alina and Lyra that we’ll be back soon.
Out in the spiraling stairwell, the air is a bit cool, and it feels good against my skin.
Raelan, Alina’s knight and dragon shifter fiancé, stands stoically in the corridor, like a statue made of gold.
When he sees us, one of his dark brows arches in the corner, his eyes narrowing. “Where are you two going?”
Poppy opens her mouth to tell him, but I quickly sling an arm around her shoulders and say, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sir Ashvale.”
His brow arches a little more. “You know I worry about all of you.”
“We know,” Poppy says softly. “We’re just going to the library.”
I smile and roll my eyes. Poppy has a thing for always listening to authority figures. Lyra and I have been trying to train it out of her, but so far, no luck. At least I know my stepbrother won’t ever take advantage of her soft nature.
As frustrated as I was with him last year, I think he’s been good for Poppy. She’s come out of her shell a bit more, and she seems happy, though I know they miss each other, with him being in Faunwood for his apprenticeship.
“The library?” Raelan tips his head. “Isn’t it closed?”
Poppy pulls a key from her pocket and holds it up. “Not to me.”
A low laugh rumbles out of Raelan, and he shakes his head. “I should’ve known.”
“So, do we have your permission to leave?” I ask, and Raelan flicks his gaze to me. Some of his mannerisms remind me of Isis; it must be his reptilian side coming through.
“You’ll do what you want regardless of what I say.”
My lips pull up into a smile. “Right you are.”
I tug Poppy away, and she waves and says, “Bye, Raelan.”
He just shakes his head again, his mouth quirking up on one side.
Poppy and I descend the north tower, passing a few other students on our way. At the bottom of the stairwell, we take a connecting corridor that’ll lead us to the library.
“Have you visited Aric?” Poppy asks as we walk, our boots making light thumping sounds on the stone underfoot.
I shake my head. “No. I spent all summer working on my essay for the Arcanum Collective.”
The reminder sends a bolt of frustration through me. I still can’t believe Professor Azula wants me to rewrite it. I’m not sure I even know where to start.
Refocusing on Poppy walking beside me, I ask, “But you have, right?”
She nods. “He’s doing really well. And he seems happy.” Her eyes get that faraway look that they always get when I talk to her about Aric, and she smiles. “I’m excited to see him for Yule. Mama and I are already planning to take a few days off from the café and make a trip to Faunwood.”
“That’s a big deal,” I say as we turn a corner into another connecting hallway. “She never closes the café.”
“I know. It’s really nice of her to want to take a trip with me.” Poppy’s face falls a bit. “Though I do feel a little guilty.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I say, jostling her shoulder as we walk. “She could probably use the break. You both work too hard.”
This gets Poppy to smile.
It’s already evening, so by the time we make it to the library, the sconces along the walls have flickered to life, and the hallways are lined in bands of light and shadow.
Poppy triple-checks to make sure no one is around before she eases her key into the lock and opens the library door for us.
It’s a little bit eerie, being in the library when it’s dark and abandoned.
But Poppy doesn’t seem to mind, and I follow her around while she searches for books on orcish languages, using the glow from Aric’s mom’s ring to light her way.
My gaze flicks to the iron gate keeping students out of the upstairs area: the restricted section. “Hey, did Miss Mai give you a key to the restricted section?” I ask Poppy.
She glances at the locked gate and shakes her head. “No. Why?”
I shrug. “I’ve always wondered what’s up there.”
Poppy refocuses on her search. With each book she pulls from the shelf and examines, I feel static building in my veins—my magic growing frustrated with being contained. Sometimes it’s like this, and it’s hard to settle it down.
“Okay,” she says after finding a few books and hugging them to her chest, “I think I have what I need. Thanks for coming with me.”
“Of course, Pops. I’ll be your partner in crime anytime.”
Back out in the hallway, Poppy locks the library door, but before we can head back to our dorm room, I say, “I think I’m gonna go to the spire for a while.”
Poppy tips her head at me, her glasses catching the firelight from a nearby wall sconce. “This late? Are you sure?”
I nod. It’s the one place on campus—besides the elemental magic practice room, which’ll be locked at this time of evening—where I can practice my magic freely, and the itch beneath my skin tells me I need to go let out some of this electricity, or I’ll be unsettled all night.
“Yeah. I won’t be long. You okay getting back? ”
She nods and lets out a quiet sound between a sigh and a laugh. “I’ll be fine. You’re all too good to me.”
“No such thing.” I pull her into a hug, detecting the scent of peppermint clinging to her hair, and then we part ways, with Poppy heading toward the dormitory towers and me walking in the direction of the elemental magic wing.
I don’t pass anyone on my way there, and the quiet only serves to amplify Professor Azula’s voice in my mind: Someone who’s steadfast and controlled and will be able to contribute to the advancements and achievements of the guild.
I can be that; I can control my magic. It’s just going to take a bit more practice.
In response, my magic flares, sending a skitter of electricity across my skin.
It’s been doing this lately, seeping out when I don’t mean for it to.
Storm magic is difficult to contain, and there aren’t any other storm practitioners in my year—or even in the academy right now.
Sometimes it feels like I have to figure everything out on my own despite being surrounded by peers and professors.
But even my advanced elemental magic professors, like Professor Azula, aren’t fully trained in the path of storm magic.
It makes me feel like a liability some days, like an accident just waiting to happen, one storm away from ripping everything apart.
Deep in thought, I climb the stairs to the Skyreach Spire and throw open the door, expecting to be greeted by a cool late-summer breeze.
Which I am.
But I’m also greeted by a shock of pale skin beneath the moonlight and a glint of steel as a blade slices through the air.
I stop abruptly, and by the time the door swings closed behind me, the man has already turned and is looking down his nose at me.
And it’s Professor D’Arques.
Without meaning to, I take in the sight of him: a lean, firm chest; defined core; and a toned V of muscle leading down—
My eyes track lower, and then I immediately stop them and flick my gaze back to Professor D’Arques’s.
And he’s staring—no, glaring—at me.
An odd tingle of defensiveness and . . . excitement goes through me.
“Professor,” I say in way of greeting, drawing myself up and shaking off the surprise at finding him here. “Sorry for interrupting.”
A slight movement draws my focus—his fingers tightening around the bejeweled hilt of the sword.
Given the look on his face, I could almost be convinced that he’s determining whether or not to drive that blade right through me.
Could he really be that upset about our debate in class today?
Maybe he hasn’t had a lot of argumentative students.
Or maybe he’s just upset that I interrupted him.
“Miss Vandermere, is it?” His tone is a mixture of sharp and disinterested.
The moment his voice tickles my ears, my magic flares again, sending sparks snapping along my fingertips before they discharge into the stone at my feet.
What the fuck?
My magic is acting odd, sharper and more rebellious than usual.
Professor D’Arques’s gaze darts down for a split second, following the flash of my sparks against the darkness surrounding us, though he says nothing as he meets my gaze again.
I’m immediately frustrated that he just witnessed me losing control, especially after our argument in class today.
Giving my fingers a quick flick, trying to dispel my magic, I narrow my eyes at him, returning his glare. “You remember me.”
There’s a slight twitch at one corner of his mouth, like he wants to frown, but he quickly wipes it away. “After our discussion, it would be hard not to.” He lifts a hand and runs it through his thick dark hair, pushing it off his forehead.
His body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, and my eyes track his muscles again despite me trying not to.
Seeing him in class today, it was impossible not to appreciate his . . . everything. Sharp cheekbones, impossibly dark eyes, a physique that begged me to stare.
And that was with his clothes on.
He seems to notice at the same time that he’s still unclad, though he doesn’t appear bothered.
Slowly, he backs away from me, going to retrieve his tunic.
A tinge of disappointment goes through me when he slips it on over his head, and the feeling is somewhat surprising.
It’s been years since I was interested in anyone.
Granted, this academy is full of boys who’re still playing at being men, so my disinterest isn’t that shocking.
But Severin D’Arques is firmly out of the territory of boyhood. One look from him tells me that. And now I’m curious how old he actually is. One hundred? Two? With vampires, it’s almost impossible to tell.
“You’re a swordsman?” I ask as he retrieves his blade from where he placed it to put his shirt back on. We don’t need to have conversation, yet I find myself wanting to keep him here just a moment longer.
“Perhaps at one time,” he says, not meeting my gaze. “Though not anymore.”
I wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t.
“Good night, Miss Vandermere.” He nods his head to me, and then he’s skirting around me, staying far enough away that I’m almost offended.
I remain where I am until the door into the stairwell closes and I’m left alone.
It’s time to focus on what I came here for.
When I lift my hands, I find tiny, almost imperceptible sparks zipping across my palms, tickling my skin as though I just reached into a spiderweb.
Yet again, I wonder why my magic is acting this way.
Control, Professor Azula whispers in my mind.
Control. If I want to get an invitation to join the Arcanum Collective, I must have control.
Which means I need to stop wondering how Professor D’Arques looks without his clothes on and start practicing with my energy sphere again.
But that’s much easier said than done, especially when my magic still feels like it’s reaching for him, even now that he’s gone.