8. Annalise
Chapter eight
Annalise
My face buries into my crossed arms as exhaustion sweeps over me, and if I thought there was any chance of Korr actually letting me fall asleep right here, I would take it. But right on cue, he clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him.
"Here's that pickle you wanted," he says, passing me the juiciest looking green piece of heaven I've ever seen.
"Thank you," I say, sounding meeker than I wanted to since expelling all of my energy with that show of false bravado outside.
Korr nods, a flicker of something—sympathy? Amusement maybe?—in his eyes, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.
I take a bite of the pickle, the crunch practically echoing in the uneasy silence engulfing us. As soon as the bold, tangy juice hits my tongue, I let out a soft sigh of relief, the taste giving me a hint of normalcy in this never ending fucked up situation.
Korr remains standing, watching every bite I take with a quiet intensity that's not quite intrusive, just…contemplative.
"Is it…okay?" he asks, somehow looking more nervous now than when he was standing toe to toe with Tyr.
"It’s perfect," I reply, my taste buds more than satiated. "A good pickle really can fix any problem."
Gods, the jokes Mattey would be making if he were here right now.
The corner of Korr's mouth twitches, the barest hint of a smile, but he reins it in as he leans against the counter, crossing his arms like he does at the beginning of every class.
"I know this situation isn't ideal, but Dean Stevens has decided you need to stay—here—until track night. She doesn't want you doing all of the stairs and walking needed to get to classes.
"The walking? My classes are further from here than they are from my barracks room?"
"They are…but you won't be attending classes in person for a few more weeks.”
A few weeks.
“You’ll be moving enough all around campus, so you need to be able to eat, drink, and shower between classes without crawling up and down stairs while your body is still healing.”
“That won’t be a problem, I can get healing tonics from—the healers,” I say, barely catching myself.
“By healers, I’m going to assume you mean Sasha. Not only is she the one who said you can’t have healing tonics, but I would strongly advise against it while her position here at Scion is on such thin ice.”
“What? Why? She saved my life!”
Korr chuckles a little, but it isn’t warm.
“She did…with regulated tonics…that she’s been brewing redline—unapproved and unsupervised—in her room all year.”
Gods that woman is impressive.
“And to answer the other part of your question, due to the severity of your internal injuries, she was forced to give you much more than any Arcane Healer would have ever allowed a single patient to receive before...calling it.”
“You’re saying they would have let me die?” I balk, horror and incredulity fully setting in.
“I’m saying—and if you tell anyone this, I’ll deny it—but I’m saying that it’s a damn good thing Reyes insisted on calling her rather than taking you to the infirmary. And for her sake, it’s a good thing the King holds her parents in such high regard.
“But while one of the medications you’re taking is helping to flush your system, giving you another healing tonic on top of what is already in your body could be deadly. Which, unfortunately, means you are stuck with natural healing and pain meds.”
The words land like a brick in my stomach as I stare at him, hoping for a break in the facade that doesn’t come. “You’re…serious.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. Of fucking course he doesn’t.
“Heaven forbid he give me any real information,” I send Tyr down the bond, knowing he’s already listening.
“Probably rationing his words for all the lectures and insults he’s planning to spew in his classes this week,” Tyr mocks, and I’m instantly back in the arena, Korr making comment after snappy comment, ripping on my inability to fight and my proclivity for ending up on my back.
“So what, I’m just supposed to…sit here?” I gesture vaguely around his house, annoyance written on my face for him to see. "Is the plan to keep me captive so I don't kill any more of Scion's precious spoon-fed shits?"
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't take the bait, continuing as if I hadn't protested at all.
“We’ve arranged for all of your coursework to be given to Matt, who has volunteered to bring it here for you every afternoon."
At that, my shoulders relax a fraction. Not entirely cut off from the world, and not forced to find a way to sneak out of Captain Asshole's house.
"Thank you. That will really help," I say, meaning it almost as much as I meant it when he gave me the pickle.
"Yeah…" he says, before quietly muttering, “Totally not another excuse for him to be out here."
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
The word is immediate—and a bald-faced lie.
I narrow my eyes at him, unwilling to drop something that clearly gets under his skin so easily.
“You know, for someone who seems to dislike Matt so much, I’m surprised you let him come over as often as he said you did.”
Realizing that may open the door for him to change his mind, I add, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful you do, Sir, I'm honestly a little surprised you two are getting along so well.”
Slowly, he lets out the longest breath known to mankind.
“He’s not exactly easy to deal with when it comes to you, ya know?”
“What do you mean?”
His mouth tightens, and he’s obviously already regretting his slip up.
“I put runes on every door and window in this house the second day you were here,” he says, frustration settling deeper into his voice. “I was only at the arena for an hour—”
I have to fake a yawn, my hand covering the smile spread across my face, but I already know where this is going. “Uh-huh…?”
“When I got back,” he continues, voice flat in a way that says he's still pissed about whatever happened, “he was asleep next to you in your bed.”
I force my eyebrows to shoot up in surprise, but if I even try to talk, I will break any pretense of shock.
“None of the runes were disturbed,” he adds darkly. “And he refused to tell me how he got in.”
I try—and fail—to stifle my laugh this time, even as Korr glares daggers at me.
“Care to let me in on the joke?”
“No joke, but I wouldn’t recommend wasting your time trying to solve that particular mystery if I were you,” I say between breaths. “He’s been doing that since we were kids. My dad was never able to figure it out either.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Oh come on, Sir,” I grin. “If he wanted to murder you in your sleep, he’d already have found a way, and we’d be far, far away from here.”
Korr’s stare somehow gets even flatter.
“That didn’t seem to work out for you two last time you tried that, did it?”
His words slice at my skin as a deep snarl rattles the house.
I shouldn’t be surprised he read through our files.
"I'm fine. I promise."
“You’re right. It didn’t,” I say, voice going cold and distant once again as I force memories of that day from resurfacing.
“Ms. Corvin—Annalise, I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean it like that," he pleads, but it’s the truth, and he did.
“Is there anything else I need to know, Sir?
“Annalise—” Korr tries again, but when he sees the lack of interest on my face, he clears his throat and falls back into his normal, frigid tone.
“Like I said, Matt will be bringing your coursework by for most of your classes for you to complete it here.
Since worksheets can't teach you how to become a stronger fighter, we’ll begin training one-on-one to get you caught back up in Combat Class starting next week, if you're feeling up to it.
“Lorenson's aware that you won’t be able to ride for at least a couple more weeks, so you’ve been instructed to stay with Tyr as much as possible outside of your classwork hours."
"At least I get to see you more while I'm in this prison."
"As much time as you want. I'll burn his house down if he tries to stop you…preferably while he's asleep inside," Tyr snarls.
“Captain Lin and Major Halden are adamant about bringing you your Ghost Walking assignments themselves…” he trails off.
I’m surprised he even knows I'm in that class, considering the level of secrecy, but I keep my mouth shut.
The first rule of interrogation I ever learned from my dad is that people hate silence. Given enough of it, they’ll rush to fill the space. Guilty people especially—spilling more information than anyone asked for just to break the tension.
I was thirteen when I learned that trick, but back then, it wasn’t some clever tactic in a training exercise; it was survival.
I’d been caught sneaking into the kitchen for an apple after being denied dinner, and my dad liked to make the beatings last.
The silence was the worst part of that night. Standing there, waiting for the first hit, trying to guess how bad it would be this time.
So I talked, anything and everything I could think of: apologies, excuses, promises I knew he wouldn’t even register. None of them lessened the blows. None of them made him stop any sooner.
Regardless, that night, I learned that silence is a weapon. And I won't arm another man with anything he can use against me.
After a long, tense silence, Korr continues, losing the battle he doesn’t even know we’re engaged in.
“They've agreed to come by in the evenings to give you time to work on your other schoolwork, and in case you need to rest.”
He stops like he’s gone over everything, though the elephant is stealing all the air from the room.
“And Vanguard?” I ask.
“It's being dropped from your schedule. You’ve already bonded with a dragon, and have no reason to be in that class for the next month and a half when your track is already secure.”
A rush of relief passes through me before his words register.
“It will be? But it hasn't been yet?”
His nostrils flare, and I mentally add it to his list of ticks he has when he’s irritated.
“There's been some…debate…about whether or not you need to finish out your class until track night. Neither Kael nor Renwick are interested in forcing you back into their class, nor will they give you homework while you heal from an incident that took place right under their noses,” he practically spits.
“Finally, people with logic enter the conversation.”
“That’s bullshit!” I practically yell at both of them. “I won’t be as capable in the field when I leave the academy if I don’t finish out that course.”
“Faren—”
“Miss Corvin, you survived—”
If looks could kill, Korr would be nothing but ash at my feet.
“Sir, with all due respect to your position and rank, don’t try to tell me what I’ve survived. I lived it, replayed it aloud for my friends, and am suffering from the consequences more than enough without you fumbling through whatever you think I went through."
“What are you doing?” Tyr pushes, knowing how uncomfortable the thought of facing my instructors and classmates in the area where it all began again.
“Obviously, I don’t want to go to that class, but I need to. Not only do I need those skills after I graduate, but I won't let their actions consume me."
Steeling myself, I continue, my voice more sure than it's felt all day. “I will take this week to continue healing, and then I will be attending classes again. In person. I’m not asking for permission."
Korr stares at me in disbelief as Tyr’s pride pulses through the bond.
“I will make the argument for you to return to in-person classes, including Vanguard, in two weeks, under one condition,” Korr says too calmly, and I already know I’m not going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth.
Again, I wait in silence, and again, he breaks first.
“You’ll do extra training with me—without argument—once you've been cleared.”
“Matt will—”
I barely get the words out before his hand is shooting up in the air, a simple finger raised to silence me before the argument I have at the tip of my tongue has a chance to find voice.
"I'm sure he will, but he doesn't have the training or years of experience I do. You graduate in a few months, and training with me in addition to your other classes will give you the best chance in the war."
His fingers drum against the countertop, patiently waiting for me to say something. But I'm still processing everything that he's just said.
“Annalise, those are my terms if you want me to talk Dean Stevens into letting you back in classes. She’s going to be firmly against it so soon after you nearly died, but at least with those conditions, I can tell her you’re making some intelligent choices.”
Without another solution, and unwilling to put Sasha in an even worse spot, I let out a sigh of defeat. “Guess I live here now.”
“Temporarily."
"Obviously," I say, too tired to question who will be counting down the days more, him or me. Gods, I can't even imagine how long it took for him to come to terms with this arrangement.