Chapter 13-Amrin #2
I bit my lip hard trying not to laugh anyway because apparently my survival instincts had completely abandoned me where this male was concerned.
“Miss Cordoza,” Professor Kenna said smoothly, her attention shifting toward me at last, “unless you enjoy pacing administrative towers dramatically for recreational purposes, I believe your presence here is not a requirement.”
My face somehow became even hotter.
“Yes, Professor.”
The professor studied us both in silence.
Once.
Twice.
Long enough that discomfort curled low in my stomach.
Not because she looked angry.
Because she looked concerned.
That realization sobered me instantly.
Professor Kenna finally exhaled a long, measured sigh—the sound of a woman witnessing catastrophe unfold exactly the way she expected it to.
Then her gaze settled fully on Sten.
And the entire atmosphere changed.
The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop several degrees.
“Mr. Blau,” she said quietly.
Sten straightened automatically.
Not much.
Just enough for me to notice.
Which honestly startled me more than if he’d visibly flinched.
Because Sten didn’t strike me as the type to defer to anyone.
Yet something in Professor Kenna’s tone commanded immediate attention.
“You, however, are here for a reason,” she continued.
The words landed heavily.
Not casual.
Not rhetorical.
A reminder.
Sten’s jaw tightened slightly.
Professor Kenna stepped fully into the corridor then, dark robes whispering across ancient stone.
“I did not bring you to the Asgarheim Runevald Institute merely to sharpen your gifts,” she said. “You came here because your control was deteriorating.”
Silence.
My heartbeat stumbled painfully.
I glanced toward Sten instinctively.
His expression had gone still.
Too still.
Like he’d locked something dangerous deep behind his ribs.
Professor Kenna continued relentlessly.
“The weight of the power you carry is bigger than yourself.” Her green eyes sharpened. “You know this.”
The air around Sten shifted subtly.
Not visible magic exactly.
Pressure.
Like standing too close to an incoming storm.
“And yet,” she said carefully, “I watched you nearly lose yourself over a hallway altercation.”
“It wasn’t merely a hallway altercation,” Sten replied quietly.
Oh.
Oh gods.
That voice.
Low.
Controlled.
Barely restrained.
I felt it physically.
Professor Kenna’s gaze hardened.
“That is precisely the problem.”
The words cracked through the corridor like ice breaking.
“You do not get to decide when control matters and when it does not.”
Something ugly flickered behind Sten’s glowing eyes then.
Shame.
Gone almost instantly.
But I saw it.
And suddenly the pieces clicked together in horrible slow motion.
The possessiveness.
The intensity.
The way his emotions seemed almost physically dangerous.
The way the air itself reacted when he lost his temper.
Sten wasn’t simply powerful.
He was struggling with controlling his power.
And he didn’t tell me.
The realization hurt unexpectedly.
Professor Kenna folded her hands neatly before her.
“You are not the first Monster to arrive at Runevald believing instinct justifies recklessness,” she said softly. “And you will not be the first one destroyed by it either if you do not heed my words.”
My stomach twisted hard.
Destroyed?
Sten said nothing.
But the muscles in his jaw flexed once.
“Monsters might roam these halls, but none of you are feral beasts,” the professor continued. “You are the descendant of bloodlines older than most realms. Behave accordingly.”
The silence afterward felt enormous.
Heavy.
And beneath it all—fear prickled softly through me for the very first time.
Not fear of Sten.
Fear for him.
Because suddenly I understood something I hadn’t before.
The Institute wasn’t simply teaching him.
It was containing him.
Professor Kenna’s gaze finally softened slightly.
Only slightly.
“I will not watch another promising student destroy themselves because they do not respect the Fates or honor their destinies. You are here for a reason. Do not forget your reason,” she said quietly.
That one landed.
Hard.
I saw it hit Sten physically.
A subtle flinch beneath all that impossible composure.
Then Professor Kenna looked between us both one final time.
And gods—whatever she saw there clearly worried her.
“Alright then,” she murmured at last. “You may leave. But try not to awaken any ancient prophecies before midterms.”
The dry sarcasm almost eased the tension.
Almost.
Then she stepped backward into her office and shut the heavy doors directly in our faces.
Silence swallowed the corridor instantly.
I stared at the dark wood paneling for several long seconds trying to process everything she’d just implied.
Beside me, Sten had gone unnaturally quiet.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Worse.
Withdrawn.
Like he’d retreated somewhere deep inside himself.
My chest tightened painfully.
“She knows something,” I whispered finally.
Sten’s laugh was soft.
Humorless.
“Oh, Luna,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the closed office doors. “Professor Kenna undoubtedly knows many things.”
That should have alarmed me.
Instead, my attention drifted helplessly back toward him.
Toward the lingering silver rune marks beneath his cerulean skin.
Toward his glowing eyes.
Toward the way he looked at me like there was already an invisible tether pulling us together.
And gods help me—I stepped closer first this time.