Chapter 23
Thou Shalt Not Swing Blind
Arwen
Ispread my books out across the long oak table, determined to make the most of the quiet. The library smells like old parchment and dust, which should be comforting. It isn’t. My brain keeps wandering to places it shouldn’t—certain faces, certain bonds I’m pretending don’t exist.
I stack my books and convince myself that studying is possible.
The universe disagrees.
Of course, Atticus Willshire, golden boy himself, walks in. Pressed uniform and hair that probably cost more in product than my entire wardrobe. He walks right up to the table in front of mine, acting like the entire library is one giant throne room built just for him.
He doesn’t even look at me as he pulls the chair out, its legs scraping across the floor. Trailing right behind him is the same girl I saw him fencing with last week. She lowers herself down beside him, like she’s auditioning to be his crown jewel.
They settle directly across from me… out of every table in this library.
My stomach drops, then flips. I force my gaze back to my notes.
I don’t exist. They don’t exist.
“Atticus,” she purrs, leaning far too close for someone interested in school notes, “you didn’t tell me you were this good with translations.”
“There’s more to me than you think. You might be surprised at what I can do… if I choose to show you.”
I can hear his smile and flirty tone. He knows I’m here. He knows I’m listening.
I grit my teeth, eyes locked on my text, rereading the same damn line three times. The words blur into nonsense.
She twirls her pen like it’s a strand of hair. “Oh? Care to show me?”
He chuckles, low and smooth. “Depends. Some demonstrations are… better in private.”
Her laugh rings out, just a little too loud for the hushed quiet of the library. Heads turn. My jaw clenches.
I slam my book shut, the sound cracking through the silence. Atticus glances at me—just for a fraction of a second—like he knew how close I was to snapping. Then his attention flicks back to his study date, as if I’m air.
Fine. Two can play invisible.
I slide my notebook into my bag, slow and deliberate.
My pulse is buzzing, hot, crawling under my skin.
Studying here is impossible. But sparring?
That I can do. I deserve to throw something sharp after surviving this circus.
And my mid-term grades were impressive, so I can afford a break from studying.
I tug out my phone, thumbs flying.
Group Chat
Me: Studying is a lost cause. Who’s up for sparring?
Holly: Been itching to knock someone on their ass.
Brix: Count me in.
Sly: Wait, are we talking friendly sparring or bloodbath sparring? I need to mentally prepare myself.
Me: Casting grounds in 20.
My grin is sharp as I sling my bag over my shoulder.
As I stand, I don’t bother hiding the scrape of my chair this time. Let them hear it. Let him hear it. I catch Atticus’s eyes once more, that smug curve tugging at his mouth as if he’s won, as if he knows exactly how much he’s under my skin.
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a glare, I just walk away. Keeping my spine straight, and my head held high, I’m already picturing the satisfying crack of impact when I land my first strike.
I walk toward the casting grounds, my thoughts raging at Atticus. What the hell is he playing at? I’m giving him what he wanted—space, distance, silence. Could he really be this cruel, or is there something else pushing him to torture me like this?
“Ah!” I stumble backwards as an arm grabs me from behind and yanks me into a classroom.
Not this time. I’m ready.
I drive my elbow hard into Alexi’s gut and flip him over my shoulder. He crashes onto his back with a heavy thud.
“I can’t believe you’re at this again,” I snap, anger rushing hot through me.
He’s wheezing, struggling to breathe from the impact. “No… different… sorry…”
His voice is raw, broken between gasps.
“You’d better get it together right now and tell me what this is about,” I warn, fists tight at my sides.
He pushes himself up onto his knees, catching his breath. “Wow, Wrath girl—you pack a punch.”
“Wrath girl?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. “Did you not even bother to learn my name?”
“Of course I know your name!” he fires back, his anger finally matching mine. “I remember everything about you I can learn at a distance. The bond wouldn’t let me forget if I tried.”
The way he says it twists something sharp in me. As bad as my bonds are, it’s clear his are tearing into him too—maybe worse. But I don’t trust him. Not after the last time. The sour taste of that encounter still clings to me.
“Tell me what you want right now, or I’m leaving,” I say.
“I just wanted to warn you,” he says, bracing himself. “Rumors are swirling about you and Ryker. You probably think I’m a piece of shit, but this… it’s not a good idea, Arwen.”
I bark out a bitter laugh.
“Seriously? This is a warning about another guy? Last time you cornered me in a classroom, you basically tried to bribe me into sleeping with you. I think I’ll take my relationship advice from literally anywhere else. Do you even understand what a relationship is—being from Lust?”
His jaw tightens. “You know nothing about where I come from.”
His voice trembles with anger and something else—shame, maybe. “I felt horrible last time. This is my first year here too. Things are… different where I’m from. I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m sorry.”
For once, he sounds almost human. I’ll give him two minutes.
“I don’t actually want you to get hurt, Arwen,” he adds, softer. “I just wanted to give you a warning. And now I have. So… I’ll just go.”
He walks out before I can reply, leaving me standing there, my mind spinning in a complete 360.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from Holly.
Holly: Where are you?
I snap back into motion, shove the confusion down, and hurry toward the casting grounds.
***
The thud of fists on padded gloves echoes across the training field. My knuckles sting as I snap forward with another jab, only for Holly to catch it easily and shove me into the motion of a quick uppercut.
“Good,” she says, circling me like a hawk. “Now pivot on the balls of your feet, not your heels—yes, there. You’ve got the strength, Arwen, but you’ve got to let it flow.”
I grit my teeth, sweat dripping into my eyes. I drive forward, punch after punch, trying to lose myself in the rhythm.
“And speaking of flow…” Holly smirks, dodging. “How are things flowing with Ryker?”
I stumble over my own feet. “Focus, Holly. Left hook or right?”
“Left—and don’t think I didn’t see you flinch at his name.” Her eyes glint as she blocks me. “He’s been sending you flowers and notes like he’s auditioning for a tragic romance.”
“Not talking about this,” I mutter, ducking under her swing.
Beside us, Brix and Sly spar harder, fists cracking into pads with sharper force.
“Our dorm is a garden of flowers at this point.” She laughs.
When Holly says flowers, Brix’s jaw tightens, and his next punch slams harder into Sly’s ribs. Sly stumbles, swears under his breath, but Brix only squares his shoulders and swings again—fast, brutal.
From the sidelines, Tabby leans toward Cleo with a raised brow. “Someone’s working out their feelings,” she whispers.
Cleo’s gaze flicks from Brix back to me, her snort edged with something less amused. “You think?”
“Eyes up!” Holly snaps, tapping my chin when my guard slips. “That so-called date must be distracting you.”
“It wasn’t a date,” I say, countering with a jab.
“Sure,” Holly drawls. “Because friendly get-togethers always happen around romantic ponds.”
Heat crawls up my neck, and my punch lands harder than I mean it to. Holly shakes her hand out and laughs. “Hit a nerve?”
Another crack—Brix’s fist colliding with Sly’s shoulder. Sly staggers back this time, scowling. “What the hell, Brix?”
“Keep up,” Brix mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking toward me for half a second before cutting away.
By the time Holly calls it, we’re all breathless, sprawled across the grass, chests heaving. Sweat shines on our skin under the sinking sun.
Cleo drops onto her back with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. We get it. You don’t want to talk about your date—”
“Friendly get-together,” I cut in, wiping my face with my sleeve.
“Right,” she says. “Friendly get-together. But we’re worried about you. We’re past midterms now. We’ve slowed down on the research, having hit multiple dead ends, but… you don’t seem as anxious as you were.”
I stay silent.
“Will you at least tell us if Ryker’s actually going to help? So we don’t feel like we’re just waiting for the sky to fall?” she says.
Their stares weigh heavy on me. I take a long breath. “You’re right. It hasn’t been fair—keeping so much from you. Especially after everything you’ve already done for me… but I promise, it’s not what you think.”
Tabby sits cross-legged, leaning forward. “So spill.”
I nod, throat tight. “I spoke with the Dean a few weeks ago. She wanted a status update. Things didn’t go well when I told her nothing had changed. But I’ve been thinking…”
They watch me, waiting to hear my idea.
“Originally, they said if I can’t manifest my sin power, I’m out. I know that. But… maybe I can still convince them to let me stay here, even if I don’t manifest a sin. So, I’ve been lining up allies.”
“Ryker,” Holly says.
I hesitate. “He said he might be able to help. And… we’ve gotten closer as friends. I think he’d stand in my corner.”
“Friends,” Tabby echoes with a smirk. “Friends who leave flowers.”
Brix’s fist digs into the grass beside him, knuckles whitening.
I push past the heat in my cheeks. “I’ve also been tutoring Maddox again.”
Sly lets out a whistle. “Bold move, cozying up to the mafia heir.”
Cleo jerks upright, her smile gone. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Cleo.” My voice softens. “I avoided him for so long because of what happened in your city. But he wasn’t involved. And… he could be more useful than we thought. He’s agreed to help me try a potion that might bring out my powers.”
Cleo uncrosses her arms, eyes softening. “I’m not upset, Arwen. I just worry. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Not fully,” I admit. “But I trust his skill. And right now, I need every chance I can get. He also may advocate for me with his father, although they don’t seem super close.”
Tabby hums. “A potion. Risky.”
“Maybe. But it’s something. And…” I pluck at the grass between my fingers. “As much as I hate Atticus, and as little as I know Maylo, I think if I were gone, they’d feel it. Their bonds with me would fray too. That has to matter to them. And they have influence with the Council.”
For a beat, no one speaks. Then Holly nudges my shoulder, softer than usual. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Arwen. We’re here. Even if it gets messy.”
Sly leans back on his elbows, squinting at me. “Just don’t forget who’s already fighting beside you while you’re out making deals.”
Cleo sighs, grabbing my hand. “Just—be careful. Every person you drag into this makes it riskier.”
“Risky’s her thing,” Tabby says with a grin, breaking the tension.
I laugh despite myself, but my gaze flicks to Brix. He sits a little apart from the rest, jaw tight, fists still curled in the grass like he’s waiting for another fight. His eyes never meet mine.
And though no one else calls it out, I feel the heat of his silence like a bruise pressed deep into my skin.