Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ARKEN
Good fucking gods. Why am I even here?
It was only a couple days into this awkward attempt to carry on with daily life: me, returning to my studies, and Kieran, resuming his normal responsibilities with the Elder Guard.
The last week or so of frantic and frivolous fervor had felt like a fever dream, and though I knew the axis of my world had been irrevocably altered in a matter of days, the rest of the realm had continued on, bustling about with business as usual.
As it turned out, there was more in this life for Kieran and I to do than simply each other, no matter how petulant I was currently feeling about that.
Four more hours.
At least this return to normalcy didn’t include plans to return to my own bed any time soon.
I had a lunch break and one more lecture after this, and then I would be back in his arms. Four hours, and then I could return to our own private domain—where all was right in the world, and everything made sense.
“The limitations of human arcana have been studied extensively over the years, and while most theories purport that…”
This was a topic that would usually have me enraptured, hanging off Scholar Sykes’ every word.
It was a subject I very well should have been paying attention to, and not just for the sake of my fastidious notetaking habits.
This was the whole reason I was here, was it not?
To delve deeper into arcane theory, to dig into the rare and ancient knowledge stored within these walls, in hopes of better understanding what made me such an anomaly.
And yet the compulsion that had driven me to Sophrosyne in the first place had been rather quiet as of late, my urges to research and learn now content to simmer while other, more compelling discoveries kept me occupied.
You’re being absurd, Arken.
That was Amaretta’s voice, not my own—but I didn’t disagree with my mentor’s omniscient specter. I knew this was ridiculous, and that I was a fool to waste any of this time—the invaluable knowledge granted through the finest education this realm had to offer.
The self-awareness wasn’t doing much for me. I found it to be more of a burden than a blessing, truth be told.
Something, something, ignorance is bliss.
I was hardly wanting for bliss, though. I had been drowning in it lately, and I could think of little else. And thus, here I was, forty-five minutes deep into a two-hour lecture, quill in hand but inkwell untapped.
The parchment before me was as blank as Percy’s limpid gaze—the heir who was, regrettably, assigned seating next to me in Arcane Theory this quarter.
The young Lord of Gales wasn’t paying much attention, either—preferring to create miniature whirlpools in his inkwell and abusing his Air arcana to flick folded-up parchment back and forth with Cypress Glass on the other side of the room.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one retaining fuck-all from this presentation.
Oh gods. I have something in common with Percival Zephirin.
It would be one thing if I were still struggling with what had happened to me in the Wyldwoods.
Both the scholars and my peers were giving me a wide berth—even Percy and his sycophants withheld their typical snide commentary in my presence.
If only my lack of academic ardor was a lingering side effect from my brush with death.
That, at least, would be a socially acceptable excuse for my behavior.
Logic would suggest that I had every reason to detach and disassociate—that the vicious scars the dark creature tore through my torso would be more than enough to leave me haunted and struggling to return to form.
But the truth was that if it weren’t for those scars granting me a physical reminder each morning as I dressed for the day, I may very well have forgotten all about that deadly daemon’s attack by now.
Far, far more important things had come to pass since that nightmare somehow delivered me into a dream.
Four more hours.
Though admittedly, I did have to wonder—were it not for that violent night forcing us both to play our hands, would Kieran and I have ever crossed the line?
Would we have eventually given in to this? Or would I have spent the rest of my life never even knowing what it truly means to live?
Four more hours.
Four more stupid, irritating, arduous hours before Kieran was supposed to get off shift, and I would be wrapping up my final lecture of the day. Four more hours until I could get that man where he belonged: naked and in my bed.
Fucking Hel, the mere thought of it had my cheeks heating, muscles tightening as I pressed my thighs together, torrid visions from the last few days dancing through my mind.
I truly didn’t know how I was expected to focus on the inane details of modern arcane theory, not when my most recent memories left me panting and breathless.
“…Miss Asher?”
Shook from the reverie, my gaze snapped up to meet that of my educator, a bemused expression on his face. To be fair, I was usually a rather active participant in this course.
“Oh. Apologies, Scholar Sykes—what was the question again?”
“Of all the known means to amplify arcana, only one has proven stable enough to remain legal in Atlas to this day, though it is rarely used. Can you tell us what it is?”
It took me a few seconds longer than usual to wrack my brain, but then I answered. “The Ahnki. The ancient Aetheric runes, created by the gods—typically reserved for arcane combat in times of war, or for large-scale spellwork such as city wards.”
“Very good, Miss Asher,” Scholar Sykes replied with a curt nod. “Now, the Ahnki…”
I couldn’t help myself. My mind drifted right back to Kieran, his mouth, and that perfect fucking cock until our lecturer found himself interrupted by a measured rap at the door.
The room broke into quiet murmurs as the scholar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I assumed it was Teagan, his perpetually-late teaching assistant—but what I saw peering over the man’s shoulders was most decidedly not the scholar in training.
Kraiggson? What the Hel is he doing here?
I recognized the guardsman immediately, but a moment of silence fell over the classroom as everyone else observed the highly irregular disruption to our lecture.
The two men at the door had a brief exchange, voices far too low for me to eavesdrop—and then Grant handed Scholar Sykes a small, cream-colored envelope sealed with the emblem of the Elder Guard.
The guardsman’s gaze drifted past the scholar for a moment, finding mine in the crowd.
His mouth thinned into a straight line, his expression indecipherable as he dipped his chin, offering a slight nod in my direction. Not slight enough, unfortunately.
Godsdamnit, Grant.
This cohort was already particularly prone to gossip, as evidenced by the hushed whispers now exchanged by those paying attention.
Exaggerated rumors had already been flying about over what, exactly, had happened the night I was spotted bleeding out in the captain’s arms as he’d carried me to the infirmary.
None of them had the nerve to talk to me about it, of course—but they were certainly talking about me.
Laurel had confirmed as much. My cheeks flamed furiously as I felt every single gaze in the godsdamned lecture hall turn toward me.
But my concern over petty chatter was immediately replaced with unease as Grant took his leave, because his expression had been grave—and now, there was no small amount of concern on Scholar Syke’s face as he approached my desk.
Fuck. Please be okay.
“A message for you, Miss Asher. The guardsman mentioned it was somewhat urgent, so please feel free to take your things and step outside if you’d prefer to read this in private.”
Urgent? Gods, please no.
As my anxiety rose, there was a slight tremble in my fingers as I accepted the envelope.
“I take it you may need to leave early, which is fine. Master Zephirin can share his notes from the remainder of the lecture in next week’s session, or I can have reading notes sent by end of day.”
“I’ll take the reading notes, please,” I replied, my mind too preoccupied to point out that I would rather attempt to swallow a textbook whole than trust notes taken by Percy.
Still, I gave the scholar an appreciative nod and kept my head tucked low as I gathered up my things, tossing them haphazardly into my book bag.
I strode down the college hall after taking my leave, my mind still racing, worried for the worst as I found a familiar alcove and tucked myself into the bay window seating for a touch of privacy. My fingers were still trembling when I slid a nail beneath the sealing wax, holding my breath.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be—
Good afternoon, Little Conduit.
“Oh, you motherfucker,” I groaned.
I was going to kill him.
In case you couldn’t tell…I fucking miss you. And since I was so firmly instructed to cease my habit of sending you mail sprites in the middle of your lectures, I’m sure you don’t mind me finding alternative means of communication.
And in my defense, Kraiggson’s been annoying the shit out of me all day. I needed to give the kid something to do.
But I digress…Care to swing by my office for lunch this afternoon? —K
Rolling my eyes but also relieved enough to bite back an idiotic grin, I rummaged through my bag for a spare scrap of parchment and a pencil.
Gods, you’re such a bastard. Did you really have to send a guardsman IN UNIFORM? Half of my classmates probably think I just got summoned for a tribunal, or that I’m getting my ass tossed in a jail cell again.
Also, if you need to give Kraiggson something to do, might I suggest: Jeremiah???
I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you haven’t eaten anything today, so I’ll pick something up on the way. What would you like, you absolute menace of a man?
Once I handed off the scroll, Hekate was gone and back within another minute.
Unlike certain impatient, one-eyed bastards, Jeremiah is busy doing his job.
And I don’t know, honestly. Surprise me? I am admittedly starving.
I told you to eat breakfast, idiot.
Beg your pardon? I most certainly did indulge in the most important meal of the day. Consider my ego bruised that you don’t recall.
Did you at least get something on the way to work?
No ma’am.
Ew. Gross.
Don’t call me that, I’m only twenty-three.
I’m aware. So, are you coming by for lunch, or are you gonna stay in the hallway and continue to lecture me about my inconsistent eating habits?
I’ll be there in half an hour.
Do try to be gentle on the freshlings in the interim. You get awfully grumpy when you’re hungry.
Let the record show that they’re supposed to be scared of me. Intimidation is part of my job description.
Give your bird a rest and let me go get us lunch, you loquacious fiend.
My bird?? Excuse you? Her name is Hekate.
Kieran!
Fucking pedant.
See you soon, gorgeous.
Fates help me. What the Hel was I supposed to do with this man and his audacious nonsense?
Go fetch him some sustenance, I suppose.
Rolling my eyes again, I hoisted my bag back over my shoulder and made my way toward the Market District.