Chapter 15
Fifteen
Kieran
Rather than letting Headmistress Harbi end our meeting prematurely, Tristan kept us in that tiny parlor with its roaring fire for another twenty minutes.
He regaled us with his reports of my father’s “battles” like the death tallies shouldn’t mean anything. But they do. They mean everything.
Or maybe he just needs to pretend he holds a strategy superior to anyone else’s.
He certainly isn’t the kind of man who’d let Harbi dictate his movements.
He bowed to her as long as it suited him and did so with thinly veiled condescension.
When Tristan decided he’d given as much information as he cared to give, or when he got tired of hearing his voice, he nodded and flicked a hand to the door.
“Meeting adjourned.” He shot Harbi a narrowed gaze. “Unless there’s anything else you’d like to add?”
They lock eyes for a tense few seconds before I grab Tristan by the forearm. “Let’s go, cousin.”
He shrugs me off and steps out the door before anyone else. It’s hardly large enough for him and his ego.
Normally his posturing would grate under my skin.
No matter how many times I tell myself to get used to it, to not let it bother me, somehow it always does.
Tristan has the singular ability to annoy me more than any other living creature.
Even my father. Maybe because like me, Tristan is young enough to have a choice. And he’s chosen poorly.
We were born into the family of one man’s unchecked ambition, but Tristan didn’t have to fall in line.
He wants to. He likes it.
The hydra leader was captured… the news swirls in my head.
One hand on the banister, I curve higher off the main floor, stumbling over the threshold to my room. Mental and emotional exhaustion turn my limbs to wet rags, wrung out by invisible hands.
The reports are awful and expected. I don’t need to be a part of the fighting to understand the tolls.
Our information didn’t work, I tell Mozi.
Meaning?
As you already heard. My voice is dry in my head. He found the hydra leader.
Feeding Ryson false information was a gamble anyway. We knew he’d explore every possible lead. Not to mention he has scouts of his own.
Mozi isn’t as bothered by the news as I am.
My fingers shake on the door handle. His scouts are more thorough than we bargained for.
That’s why they are still alive to deliver the news.
The dragon makes a great point. Steeling myself, I step inside my bedroom and hastily shut the door behind us.
The space is nicer, larger, than any of the others.
This hall specifically boasts nicer accommodations than the rest of the students at DragonSpear enjoy because status buys many things.
A mattress sized for a king and a desk still leave plenty of maneuvering room.
The private bathroom is the best of the perks.
Everything is done in masculine earth tones with black and gold accents. The stone floor is cut through with wide swaths of red and blue rugs absorbing the stomp of footsteps.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I flick the faucet on, splashing frigid water against my overheated skin. I’m surprised it doesn’t steam.
You did what you could, Mozi chides. It would look suspicious if you didn’t attend your first year at the academy.
I understand the necessity of putting on a show but how can I forget about the people I can’t protect? The problems I can’t solve and need to? I don’t have the power to do anything about any of it.
I dropped pertinent pieces of false information, a trail leading nowhere, for my father to follow. If he bit, it made no difference. He eventually found the right trail and the golden egg at the end. The loss of the hydra leader is a massive blow to my own budding resistance.
If a man of his years and reputation falls to Ryson, then what hope do I have?
The water runs clear and cold and I shove my head underneath the stream, eyes closed, letting the chill infuse my bones. Frost in the marrow is better than caring when no one else does.
Maybe Headmistress Harbi—a massive maybe—but she’s not in a position to stand against Roman. No one is.
I sag, gripping the edge of the white porcelain bowl. Finally I straighten and cut the water.
The man in the mirror’s reflection is tired and it shows.
My cheekbones have hollowed out and the smudges beneath my eyes will only deepen the more we burrow into this war, this role. Determination forces me to hiss out a breath, my nostrils flaring, and turn away. A change of clothes and a cat nap will work their usual miracles.
Astrid and I have more training tonight and a meeting with several students who show potential empathy to our cause. It’s always stressful to approach others, who may feel inclined to let Tristan know what I’ve said, if they want to get on his good side.
We may look similar enough to be brothers but no one in their right mind would choose to get on his bad side.
Get a grip on yourself, Mozi warns. Our work isn’t done.
And what is the dragon up to today while I paste on a happy face?
More important political maneuvers than you can imagine, young one.
I turn the corner and pull up short at the flash of gold against my pillow. My stomach drops.
Evie smiles, crooking a finger, leaning on her side in a nest of blankets. “Hello, Kieran.”
Oh Ether, not now. Not blasted ever.
You didn’t lock the door behind you?
Mozi chuckles in my mind like this is my fault alone, and he’s right, but his disappearing act leaves me alone in the room with a hungry predator. The glint in Evie’s eyes leaves no room to imagine anything other than her real motives.
I lean against the bathroom door with my arms crossed over my chest. “Yes?”
The hard tone doesn’t put her off. If anything, it incites Evie to more drastic measures, and I’ll have to be careful how I play this.
She bats those long black lashes at me, her lips slightly pursed, and pretty pink. “Come sit with me. I want to talk to you.”
She shifts and the motion sends her dress sliding off her thigh. The expensive material glides like silk in a soft shade of sunrise yellow to complement her skin tone. Her muscles are supple, soft, perfect.
Evie knows it.
She does nothing without understanding how it will work to her advantage, except when she’d slapped Morgan. That felt like an anomaly born of passion rather than logic.
“I’m comfortable where I am. What would you like to talk about?”
Unease flickers over her features before she schools them into a normal smile. “So many things.”
My stomach drops further than physically possible.
“Another time. I think you need to leave.”
Her brows draw together, and she pushes herself up into a half reclined position. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then I’ll have to have you removed, and I’m sure neither one of us wants the notoriety that will bring,” I say.
There’s steel under my slightly mocking tone. This is the worst time for her to make a move. She sensed my weakness and punched.
Instead of listening, her grin turns indulgent. “You don’t have to play coy with me. We both know exactly where this is going.”
“Yes, with you leaving.”
My chest tightens. This is the last scorched situation I need to deal with.
Evie is gorgeous and competent. She is strong where it matters, intelligent enough to know when to move and when to freeze, and she comes from a noble family with deep ties to the kingdom.
But I’ve got no interest in her, and I never have. Any stolen embraces in the past, any teasing kisses, came from my father and her family trying to set us up to “join the families.”
What an archaic nightmare.
If I upset her, she’ll whine to her family, who will tell my father.
It will become an issue.
I know if I get close enough, she’ll smell like jasmine and soap. Her skin will be supple and dip underneath the skim of my fingers. I know with a blade in her hand, she’s ruthless.
None of those things matter right now. My focus centers on getting her out without pushing her to anger or tears or a letter home.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Evie drops onto my pillows with a soft sigh, her arms flung wide, her hair a golden halo around her head. “It’s you and me, Kieran. You know we’re meant to be together. Why do you keep putting it off?”
I hate those words especially when they’re strung in the same sentence. Meant to be. Talk about archaic. Romance is nothing but a story ready to die with the first lick of dragon fire. There is no such thing as soulmates, forged in the womb of the Ether itself, designed to be together.
I have no capacity left inside of me for complications like romance or anything comparable.
I force myself off the wall and carefully approach the bed like I’m facing down an angry basilisk ready to climb me like a tree. “Evie.”
“Kieran?”
“You’ve got a crazy notion in your head that now is the right time.”
My mind scrambles for something better to say, something that will alternately let her know there’s no way in the Void I’m sleeping with her but let her down gently. Does such a balance exist?
I bend until we’re eye level and Evie slides onto her opposite side with her head cradled in her hand. The cut of her dress gives me an up close and personal look at what she strategically displays, but I don’t let my gaze stray.
“You’re making a pass at me,” I add in an undertone.
“Is it working?”
“Now isn’t the right time. I think you know it as well as I do.”
I glance at her dress and the way the material hugs her waist, showing off her assets to perfection. The gorgeous buttery yellow also plays off the rich tone of her eyes and deepens the blue to glowing turquoise. Yes, perfection, in every way.
It should matter. It does not.
“Then when will it be the right time?” She creeps closer until our faces are inches from each other. “You are always too busy to make the time.”
Moving away will send her the wrong message. Kissing her will damn me further.
There’s tension in my muscles from holding myself still. It would be easier if I felt attraction.