Chapter 16 #3
“I did take advanced healing last year, and sometimes I forget the more intricate of the spells, but the important ones remain,” he said.
“It’s not such a struggle,” he said after much deliberation, “to heal yourself, except for the fact that when you do so, it depletes your mana, so right now I’m quite weakened and will be for the foreseeable future.
Well, an hour at least. But I’m not going anywhere. Are you?” He chuckled.
“Why would I be going anywhere? It’s the girls’ dormitory,” she said, and blushed as she realized the situation.
She was wearing shorts and a camisole, no bra underneath.
It was dim, dark, and she was alone with the guy that she’d had a crush on ever since the first day when he had shown everybody the eldritch horror that swam in the lake.
“I think you’re sweet,” she said, mustering all the courage she had.
He smiled at her.
“You’re no damsel in distress, Lesya,” he said. “So why did you take it?”
He stood up and leaned against the wall, stretching his legs, stretching his arms. He took out a vial of something from his pocket and drank it. He sighed deeply and then looked back at her.
“Do you want a rejuvenating potion? It would be pointless, seeing as you’re already rejuvenated. But it’s got a nice blueberry taste. Here, have a sip.”
She sipped. It was quite strong.
“Are you deliberately giving me alcohol?” she asked.
“Why? Is that a bad thing where you’re from?” Cassian laughed.
“I’m from Lynsfeld. Everybody drinks at Lynsfeld. Don’t tell me you’ve never been there,” Lesya said, taking another sip from the vial. “But I’ve never drunk anything like this.”
“Of course you haven’t. It’s one of my own concoctions,” Cassian said, taking the vial back from her, stoppering it, and putting it back in his pocket. “This is Cassian Veilmonte’s fix-it elixir.”
“I like the name. Are you interested in pursuing a career in potions?” Lesya asked.
“Potions? Fuck no,” Cassian said. He had the air of confidence that a senior does. He was really sure about what he wanted, and he sounded so serious in his pursuit of what he hadn’t mentioned just yet. “It’s alchemy I like.”
She knew it. She knew that he would say that. She had sensed it from him the first day that she had seen him. He had the intellectual distinction of an alchemist. It was there in his stature, in the way he wore his spectacles and observed everything with great intricacy.
“You like alchemy too? I live for that subject!” she said, standing up, feeling excited.
Compared to him, she was underdressed, but he didn’t seem to mind that.
In fact, he let his eyes linger over her chest and then at her thighs, and he stood there, taking her in.
She blushed and looked away, catching her reflection in the cupboard pane.
Her hair was a mess, all black and running along her shoulders, her eyes were very puffed up from crying, and her cheeks were red from embarrassment and feeling suddenly so hot.
But underneath all of that, she was still her, and she liked what she saw, and she knew that so did Cassian.
“You know what’s my dream job?” Cassian said, walking around the empty dormitory.
“I would like to teach alchemy one day,” he said.
“Preferably here. But I do want to travel to Romania. They have such magic there that we can’t even understand.
They can do alchemy with dragon scales. Control a scale, control a dragon.
That’s how they used to ride dragons back in the day.
In fact, listen, Rosefield. What if I told you that every time somebody tamed a horse, or somebody tamed a dog, or trained a cat, it was sympathy at play.
It’s the way people fall in love with each other. It’s how we take on each other’s pain.”
“I just learned about sympathy today,” Lesya said excitedly. “Professor taught us how to set fire to oak wood.”
“Well, the professor is sometimes unhinged, but don’t let that take away from his brilliance. He is a great teacher, and thanks to him I will be pursuing alchemy in a more serious capacity. I have already applied to Romania for higher studies.”
“You’re leaving?” Lesya asked with worry.
“Oh, not anytime soon. I’m still here for this year. Still got to wind up my studies in Umbrveyl. Still got a lot to learn.”
“Can you teach me how to duel?” Lesya asked. It was not that she was reaching out for help. It was that this was the only guy offering it to her.
“Lesya Rosefield, I thought you would never ask,” Cassian said, puffing his chest in faux-pride.
“I’m not as good of a duelist as I am an alchemist. But that should tell you how good of an alchemist I am that dueling is my second-best trait.
Am I being cocky? Fuck that. I am being cocky.
Tell you what. Do you know about Riovan? ”
Her eyes lit up with recognition. She leaned closer and whispered, “Have you been down to the forest? Have you perchance seen what I’ve done with the little cottage?”
He laughed. “You do know it’s haunted, right?”
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
“Well, if nobody’s flung you against a wall in there, then I guess Riovan’s soul, or his haunted spirit if you will, must have really taken to you. Nobody else has been able to step inside there for a long time.”
“What about you?” Lesya asked.
Cassian gave her a devilish grin. He whispered very close to her face, “I’m the one spreading all the rumors so that nobody would bother that place, and I’m really surprised that you went there and cleaned up the whole place. It was supposed to be my refuge. Now I know that it’s not just mine.”
A series of images flashed through Lesya’s mind. All of them pure potential of what could happen. She flushed red, and bit her lip and looked away.
“You like what I did with the place?”
“Oh, I loved it,” Cassian said. “In fact, we can practice some dueling there if you want. Tomorrow’s Saturday. How does that sound?”
“That depends,” Lesya said, raising her eyebrow at him, smiling good-naturedly. “You say your dueling comes second to your alchemy. How good of a duelist are you really?”
“Well, I will tell you one thing about myself, Lesya,” Cassian said, leaning against her.
“I don’t play fair when it comes to something that I want.
As for your answer, I’ll demonstrate it tomorrow, but not like that motherfucker Barrowhane.
And don’t worry, I’ll look after you, and I’m not gonna let this thing slide.
What Barrowhane did, I’ll get back at him for you. ”
He leaned closer, and it looked as if their faces might touch. But then he pulled back.
“You smell nice,” he said, smiling at her.
“Thanks,” she said, her breath treading shallow.
“I’ll see you tomorrow in the evening at Riovan’s shack,” he said, giving her a nod and a smile, then leaving the dormitory.
Relieved of her pain and bathed in the envy of all the other girls in the dormitory, Lesya had had a very good night that night. She had excused herself to the Voltaire’s wing and was thankful to see that it was abandoned.
She had closed the door, and she had laid herself down on a sofa overlooking the window.
She had closed her eyes, thinking about the way Cassian had healed her, and how Cassian had been standing so close to her, and how they would be alone tomorrow.
And she touched herself. She moaned as she touched herself, thinking deeply of Cassian, thinking of his strong forearms, of his tall height, of his broad shoulders, of his red lips.
She touched herself and she moaned, and she did not know it yet, what she was doing.
Unbeknownst to her, it was a kind of sexual alchemy.
Something that would change the course of her life, starting tomorrow.
* * *
The next day, there was a lot of hushed whispers and murmurs in the dining hall. Some of the faculty members were also eating at the dining hall’s faculty table because it was a Saturday.
Professor Eldric, Elara Moore, all of them were seated and enjoying bacon and eggs, toast, beans, tea, coffee, when suddenly a really frazzled-looking Professor Barrowhane stepped in through the door. Lesya and Trisha, sitting side by side drinking orange juice, saw him at the same time.
It was said, or rather rumored, that early that morning, Professor Barrowhane had a fight with another faculty member. For all intents and purposes, nobody knew the name of this faculty member, but witnesses said that it was the ghost of Balthazar.
Now, the thing about the ghost of Balthazar was that it was a real person, but it remained reclusive and never actually taught the lesson that he was supposed to teach, which was a history of House Balthazar.
This was not the same Balthazar as the guy who had founded House Balthazar.
This was three generations down, his great-great-great-grandson.
He had died on campus, and that’s why he was here as a ghost. He gave one lecture per year, and only then became corporeal.
For the rest of the time, he remained shut in his history library near the undercroft.
The rumor went that Professor Barrowhane was coming back to the campus after his morning walk and exercise when Balthazar the Fourth had instigated him and lured him toward the undercroft.
The rumor went that the first spell had been cast by Balthazar the Fourth, and that afterward an angered Professor Barrowhane had tried to subdue the ghost, but to no avail.
And now everybody could see what the ghost had done to Professor Barrowhane.
His body was bruised purple, and he was missing a few teeth.
There was blood on his forehead, and he was walking with a limp.
He grunted as he walked, and suddenly, as he tripped and fell on his knees, a lot of the students whom he had tortured yesterday started laughing.