43. Chapter 43
Atticus
The library is almost empty as I move through the aisles with a book tucked under one arm, still replaying the last hour in my head.
It took a few days to arrange a time where we could meet in secret, but our first training session was a miracle. Arwen’s shield had held.
It wasn’t prefect but most non-Pride students struggle for months trying to grasp even the foundation of mental defense.
Their minds fight the concept. Mental shielding requires certainty, structure, and control over one’s internal world.
Pride builds those instincts from childhood as it’s built into our education curriculum.
Arwen picks it up in an hour. It’s curious…
I stop in front of the political strategy section, running my fingers along the spines while trying not to think about the way her face lit with triumph when she finally pushed me out of her head.
“You’re smiling weird,” she’d accused afterward.
“No, I’m not.”
“You really are.”
I’m sure I was. This girl has me wrapped around her finger.
I pull a book from the shelf for appearances.
The library is one of the few places in the academy where disappearing for long stretches doesn’t raise suspicion, and right now suspicion is the last thing I need.
If my father’s people notice gaps in my schedule, questions will follow.
And those questions will probably lead to Arwen.
The thought wipes the smile from my face.
I turn down another aisle toward the advanced governance texts when movement catches my attention. Tight brown curls bob further down the stacks.
Holly.
What is Arwen’s roommate doing in the Pride political wing? She wouldn’t be having classes in this area.
Holly catches my eye. Her expression loosens with relief before she schools it away. Then, subtle enough that most people would miss it, she tilts her head toward one of the private study rooms lining the far wall and walks away without another glance.
I stay where I am for several seconds, flipping through the book in my hands while I scan the library out of habit. A few Pride students sit scattered at the tables. Two second years near the windows. One of my father’s usual orbiters halfway asleep over a legal textbook.
I select two more books I don’t need and head toward the study rooms at an unhurried pace. When I slip inside and shut the door behind me, Holly is already pacing the floor.
“I need to talk to you,” she says. “It’s important.”
My pulse sharpens at once.
“Is Arwen okay?”
“She’s fine. I mean—not fine, but physically fine.”
“Holly,” I say, setting the books down on the table, “whatever this is, we need to be quick. People know who you are. If someone sees us sneaking into private rooms together, they’ll start connecting dots.”
“I know.” She drags a hand through her curls. “I just—I don’t know who else to go to.”
The seriousness in her voice wipes away my irritation.
I straighten. “What happened?”
Holly hesitates long enough that unease crawls up my spine. Then she says quietly, “Arwen told us why her powers aren’t working, and I’m concerned.”
“What? Her powers haven’t been working?”
“Not since she arrived back. But she figured out why a few weeks ago,” Holly says. “Or mostly figured it out. Her powers only work when Maddox is nearby.”
For a second, I genuinely think I’ve misheard her, but then my stomach drops.
“That’s impossible,” I say.
But even as the words leave my mouth, my brain is already moving through the implications with horrifying speed. The proximity bond. The way her power came alive in Gluttony after struggling in Greed.
Universe. If anyone discovers this—
“She’s vulnerable,” I say, dread creeping in.
Holly nods once.
I turn away, pressing a hand against the back of my neck as thoughts collide violently in my head. If she’s separated from Maddox, she effectively loses access to the one thing making powerful people hesitate before targeting her outright.
Holly folds her arms. “She’s trying to pretend it doesn’t bother her, but it does.
She still wakes up crying sometimes,” Holly says softly.
“After what happened in Greed and then Gluttony, she keeps having nightmares about being kidnapped, or losing control and hurting people. Not only is this leaving her vulnerable, but she’s not learning the control she needs to feel confident in her power. ”
I close my eyes, torn up inside that she is struggling so much and I can’t even get near her.
“She needs help,” Holly continues. “And she won’t ask for it because she’s spent her entire life believing she has to survive everything alone.”
The words are true. Arwen caries pain like it’s the cost of existing.
“No one has ever chosen her first,” Holly says quietly. “She has bonds now. She deserves people who actually act like it.”
Holly asks the question I already know is coming.
“Would your proximity affect her powers at all?”
I exhale.
“No,” I admit. “They never worked when we were trapped in Greed.”
Holly’s face falls, though she probably expected the answer. “So, she needs Maddox.”
The name of that emotionally constipated dick leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Unfortunately, she’s right.
Jealousy flashes hot and ugly through me before I crush it down. This isn’t about me. It’s about her safety. And whether or not I like it, Maddox is part of that.
Holly studies me. “I know you two hate each other.”
I sigh before she continues. “Arwen needs him,” Holly says. “And she’s never going to ask herself.”
Sitting down, I lean back against the chair, staring at the ceiling. The idea of helping Maddox get closer to her feels a little like volunteering to be stabbed repeatedly. But the thought of Arwen defenseless feels worse.
Much worse.
Finally, I nod. “I’ll handle it.”
Relief floods Holly’s face. “Thank you.”
She slips out first after checking the hallway. I give myself another minute before forcing myself back into the role of calm, composed heir to Pride while my thoughts spiral underneath.
I pull out my phone, and the call connects on the first ring. “What?” Maddox says. Straight to charming as always.
“We need to talk.”