Chapter 6-Amrin #2
Years of disappointing powerful women had conditioned me well for this exact kind of scrutiny.
My mother, my aunts, my sisters—they all had that same look when they examined me too closely.
That subtle disappointment wrapped in elegance.
The expectation that eventually I would say something foolish and prove them correct.
“You were with Sten,” Professor Kenna said.
Not a question.
“He’s tutoring me,” I replied immediately.
Too quickly.
Too defensively.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even fully understand why I was rushing to explain myself.
Only that I suddenly felt fiercely protective of him.
Of us.
The instinct hit so hard it startled me.
Like something deep inside me recoiled at the idea of anyone misunderstanding him.
Or judging him.
Or taking him away.
My fingers twitched.
I looked down instinctively.
Blue light swirled around my fingertips.
Tiny sparks.
Lunar-colored magic dancing across my skin like liquid starlight.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
The professor’s gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
Interesting.
Not alarmed.
Just interested.
“Have you been sleeping any better?” she asked calmly.
The abrupt shift in conversation caught me completely off guard.
“What?”
“It was noted in your last housing survey that you were having difficulty sleeping.”
I blinked.
I genuinely didn’t remember writing that.
Then again, the Runevald housing surveys were absurdly invasive. Questions about magical fluctuations, dreams, emotional states, sleep cycles…
At the time, I’d assumed it was because the Institute sat directly atop intersecting ley lines that threaded through the skies of the multiverse.
Now? Now I wondered if they monitored students far more closely than any of us realized.
“Um,” I said slowly, still staring at the faint blue glow fading from my fingertips, “actually, yes, sleeping at night is always difficult for me.”
That much was true.
Because lately, sleep had become impossible.
Not because of anxiety.
Not entirely.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw silver-blue eyes staring back at me from the dark.
Because my body seemed painfully aware of Sten, even in his absence.
Because wanting him had become its own kind of insomnia.
“I was actually going to speak to my advisor about switching into more nocturnal classes next semester,” I admitted.
“Mm.” Professor Kenna folded her hands neatly before her. “A wise idea, Miss Cordoza.”
Something about the way she said it made my skin prickle.
Not strange exactly.
Just knowing.
“Tell me,” she continued smoothly, “has Sten been a satisfactory tutor?”
The question should not have made my pulse jump the way it did.
“Oh,” I said, trying for casual and failing spectacularly, “yeah. He’s actually quite brilliant.”
Understatement of the century.
Professor Kenna watched me carefully.
Too carefully.
“He designed an entire celestial mapping system,” I rushed onward, desperate to sound normal. “Like—an actual functioning inter-realm astronomy program. It overlays ley line activity and tracks celestial movement across multiple planes simultaneously.”
The professor looked unsurprised.
“Did he?”
“Yes!” I said, unable to stop myself. “I mean, it’s incredible. I had no idea he was—”
“Exceptionally gifted?” she supplied.
“Yeah.”
The corners of her mouth curved slightly.
“That does not surprise me, considering Sten possesses an intimate connection to celestial magic.”
She paused.
“Being a descendant of Máni.”
The name hit something inside my brain immediately.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
But enough to make me freeze.
Where had I heard that name before?
The word curled through my thoughts like smoke, stirring half-remembered memories.
Stories.
Books.
Something old.
Something mythological.
The professor turned slightly, robes shifting in the wind.
“Oh,” she said lightly, glancing toward the distant towers of Runevald, “look at the time. I’m due elsewhere.”
And just like that, she was leaving.
I stared after her.
Confused.
Because that had not felt accidental.
It had felt deliberate.
Like she’d wanted me to hear it.
Wanted me thinking about it.
Which only made me more suspicious.
It was considered deeply inappropriate at Runevald to discuss another student’s lineage or supernatural heritage openly.
Power was personal here.
Bloodlines, even more so.
So why would she casually reveal something like that?
Unless she wanted me curious?
The realization settled uneasily in my stomach.
“A descendant of Máni,” I muttered under my breath as I started walking again.
The name rolled around inside my head.
Familiar.
Gods, why was it familiar?
“Manny?” I whispered. “No. Not Manny, idiot. Máni.”
My thoughts raced as I crossed the torch-lit pathways leading toward the dormitories.
Máni.
Moon.
There was something about the moon.
Something ancient.
Something powerful.
I could practically feel the answer hovering just beyond my reach.
Like a memory trapped beneath water.
And underneath all of that confusion—underneath the questions and curiosity and dangerous fascination—there was something else.
Warm.
Certain.
A feeling I could not explain no matter how hard I tried.
Because every instinct I possessed kept circling back to the same impossible truth.
Sten felt right.
Not safe.
Definitely not safe.
But right in a way that bypassed logic entirely.
And that should have terrified me more than anything.
Instead, I felt something else.
Something that felt a lot like fate.