Chapter 8
My stomach drops. Seren swears under her breath. I snatch the parchment from his hand, carefully not to touch his fingers. He notices. I unfold it. The ink is silver and official.
By order of Professor Thorne and Dean Starling, bonded pair Valentina Starling and Valerius Draven are reassigned to advanced supervised integration periods during third lesson until further notice. Third lesson. That's now.
My eyes fly to his. "My mother approved this?"
"Apparently."
Professor Thorne I expected. My mother? Never. The parchment trembles slightly in my hand. I hate that Valerius sees.
"I'm not going," I say.
Valerius arches one dark brow. "Then enjoy explaining to Thorne why you ignored an official order."
"Enjoy standing there alone." I retaliate.
"I would." He answers back. The honesty irritates me more than it should.
Seren plucks the parchment from my hand and reads it quickly. Her expression darkens. "This says supervised. By who?"
"Thorne," Valerius says.
"Of course," I mutter.
Seren looks at me. "Do you want me to come?"
Valerius answers before I can. "No."
Seren glares at him. "Still not asking you."
"It's fine," I say quietly.
"It is aggressively not fine." She corrects me.
"I know. But I'll go." Because what choice do I have?
That is the thing about Arcana Academy. It wraps orders in elegant script and calls them opportunities. It pushes students into danger and calls it training. It binds me to Valerius Draven and calls it necessity.
Seren squeezes my arm. "Come find me after." Her eyes say more than her words do.
"I will." I say.
Valerius turns without waiting. I follow because refusing to move would only make me look afraid.
Behind us, Eli says lightly, "Have fun, you two."
Valerius does not turn. "Eli."
"Yes?" Eli's expression changes.
"Stop speaking." He commands, and he listens.
Luc says nothing, but when I pass him, he watches my wrist. Not my face. My wrist. A cold thread slips down my spine. I pull my sleeve lower. Valerius notices it too.
We walk in silence toward the east corridor. Students part around us, and I hate every second of it. Before last night, people stared because I was powerless. Now they stare because ancient fire made a spectacle of me. I can't decide which feels worse.
Beside me, Valerius moves like none of it touches him...
Maybe it doesn't. Maybe when you are born powerful enough, the world's attention feels like weather.
Annoying sometimes. Harmless if you know you can survive the storm.
The corridor narrows after the courtyard, forcing us closer.
My cloak brushes the air near his arm. Heat slips through the bond mark in response, subtle but immediate. My pulse answers before I can stop it.
Valerius's hand flexes at his side. I see it.
"You feel it," I say before I can think.
His gaze remains forward. "Feel what?"
"You know what." I say.
"Be specific, Starling." I hate my name in his mouth. I hate that some part of me waits for him to say Valentina again.
"The mark," I say. "When we're close."
His jaw tightens. For a moment, I think he's going to deny it. Then he says, "Yes."
The answer is so direct it steals the next breath from me. I knew it, I look at him, he doesn't look back. "What does it feel like?" I ask.
His eyes flick down toward me, sharp and unreadable. "Why?"
"Because I'm trying to understand what's happening." I admit.
"And you think I do?" He gives me a confused look.
"I think you understand more than I do." I say, feeling vulnerable and ashamed to even have to admit to that.
A bitter half-smile touches his mouth. "That isn't difficult."
The insult stings. I stop walking. He takes two steps before realizing, then turns back. The corridor around us is mostly empty now, sunlight falling through high windows, dust floating like tiny sparks between us.
I lift my chin. "If working with me is so unbearable, go tell Professor Thorne. Tell my mother. Tell the council. Tell the Flame, if you're brave enough to insult ancient fire to its face."
His gaze darkens. "I didn't ask for this either," I continue, voice low but shaking.
"I didn't ask to be humiliated in front of the whole academy. I didn't ask to feel something burning under my skin every time you stand too close. I didn't ask for your magic to look at me like it knows me when I don't even know myself."
The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Valerius goes completely still. I realize what I said a second too late. His magic to look at me like it knows me.
His eyes sharpen. "What did you say?"
I sigh. "Nothing."
"No." He steps closer. "Say it again."
"I was angry." I say trying to change the subject.
"Say it again, Valentina." My name in his voice sends a shock through the mark. Not warmth this time, a spark.
I inhale sharply. So does he. The space between us tightens until I can feel it pressing against my ribs.
He is close enough now that I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
Close enough to see the faint flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.
Close enough that the scent of smoke and cedar wraps around my throat and makes my thoughts blur at the edges. I should step away but I don't.
His voice drops. "What do you mean my magic looked at you?"
I swallow. "In the training hall." His jaw flexes. "It moved toward me," I say. "Not like an attack. Like..." I struggle for the word. Like recognition. Like hunger. Like a hand reaching in the dark. "Like it wanted something," I finish.
The silence after that is brutal. Valerius stares at me with an expression I can't read. His face gives me nothing, but his eyes—his eyes aren't cruel now.
"Shadowflame doesn't want," he says.
"Then what was it doing?" I ask.
His gaze drops to my mouth again. Not a stare, a slip. A fracture in control. The bond mark pulses hard enough that I almost flinch. He looks away instantly, anger flashing across his face as if he's furious with himself.
"Nothing," he says.
It sounds like my favorite lie. Before I can answer, a door opens at the end of the corridor.
Professor Thorne appears. "Must I send a written invitation for you to enter?"
Valerius steps back. The cold air rushes between us. I hate how much I notice the absence of heat.
"No, Professor," I say quickly.
Valerius says nothing. We follow Thorne into a room I have never seen before.
That should be impossible. I have lived at Arcana Academy for six years.
I know its corridors, its staircases, its hidden study alcoves, the window in the west hall that sticks when it rains, the portrait on the third floor that gives terrible advice,
the servant passage near the library that Seren and I used in second year to sneak honey cakes after curfew but I have never seen this room.
It sits behind a plain wooden door in a corridor used mostly for storage, yet inside it opens into a circular chamber lined entirely in black stone.
No windows. No portraits. No branch banners.
Only a single warded circle carved into the floor and three lamps burning with white flame. The air feels older here.
I slow at the threshold. Valerius notices. So does Thorne. "Inside, Miss Starling." I step in. The door closes behind us with a soft thud that sounds too final. Professor Thorne moves to the edge of the circle. "This chamber is used for unstable bond assessments."
"Comforting," I mutter.
His gaze cuts to me. "Would you prefer I lie?"
"No." I say in defeat.
"Good. I dislike wasting lies on intelligent students." The compliment is so unexpected I blink. Valerius's eyes flick toward me. I ignore him. Professor Thorne gestures to the circle. "Both of you. Center."
I look at the carved lines on the floor. They are not like the south hall's training wards. Those were silver, neat, academic. These are deeper, carved into the stone itself and filled with some dark metal that catches the white flame strangely.
"What kind of ward is this?" I ask.
Thorne's mouth moves almost imperceptibly. Approval, maybe. "Containment and revelation."
Valerius stiffens. I notice because the bond notices. A dark pulse brushes the edge of my awareness, gone before I can understand it.
"Revelation?" I repeat.
"Reactive bonds often hide their true instability until placed under controlled strain," Thorne says. "This ward reveals points of pressure."
I take a slow breath. "And what does that mean for me?"
"It means you will stand still." He says.
"Everyone keeps giving me very impressive roles." I say. Valerius's mouth twitches.
Professor Thorne's eyes shift between us. "Mr. Draven, you will summon Shadowflame again."
"No." His refusal is immediate. I look at him. So does Thorne. Valerius's face is hard. "We already know what happens."
"We know the first stage," Thorne says.
"It reached for her." He says reminding him of what happened last time he used his shadowflame around me.
"And you stopped it." Thorne reminds him.
"Yes." He nods.
"Why?" Thorne asks.
The question slices into the room. Valerius goes still. I look at him before I can stop myself. His expression doesn't change, but something in the bond tightens. Not heat. Not anger. Warning. "Because uncontrolled flame is dangerous," he says.
"Your flame was controlled." Thorne suggests.
Valerius's eyes darken. "Until it wasn't."
"Why?" A muscle jumps in his jaw. Professor Thorne steps closer.
"Shadowflame responds to emotional energy. Fear. Rage. Pain. Desire. It feeds, shapes, burns. You are trained to command it before it commands you. So I ask again, Mr. Draven. Why did your controlled manifestation respond to Miss Starling?"
Silence. My pulse beats too loudly. Valerius's gaze flicks to me. Only once but enough, enough for my mark to warm, enough for Thorne to notice.
His eyes drop to my sleeve. "Interesting," he says quietly. I suddenly hate that word. Valerius does too, judging by the way the air darkens around him. Professor Thorne turns to me. "Miss Starling. Remove your cloak."
My stomach tightens. "What?"