Chapter 35 Thou Shalt Not Flirt with Manipulation
Thou Shalt Not Flirt with Manipulation
Arwen
The dorm door swallows me like a shadow, and Holly’s arms wrap around me before I can steady myself.
Her grip is fierce, as if holding me might keep me from disappearing.
On the bed, Tabby and Cleo sit with messy hair and long faces, silently waiting.
They look like they haven’t slept... or are hungover.
.. or both. Which, to be fair, I’m sure I look the same.
“What the hell happened Arwen,” Holly hisses the second she can stop groping me. “Where have you been? Atticus was here freaking out. We thought you were—” She stops, breath catches, and her face goes still as she composes herself. “Gods, are you okay?”
I let them herd me to my bed and sit—careful not to show them the burn marks on my wrists from the rope. My hands are shaking, and I feel like I could pass out, so I skip the theatrics and decide to tell them everything. As fast as possible.
I start with how Professor Gabriel kicked me out and told me to stay away after my embarrassing display of seduction tactics.
How I started spiraling as the bond felt like it was dismantling my insides, Brix’s confession that he can’t help anymore because it’s dragging him under, Ryker’s overheard words of truth and betrayal, my escape, capture and subsequent rescue by none other than Atticus Willshire.
When I finish my rant, I look to each of my friends… I’ve never seen them stunned to silence. Mouths hanging open. I’m secretly glad it’s taking them a long time to process too.
All three rush into their own rants. The force of their anger almost knocking me off my bed.
Holly is pacing, fists clenched. “I’m going to kick Ryker in his balls so damn hard his dad feels it all the way in Greed,” she promises.
Cleo’s knuckles are white where she grips her thigh; muttering under her breath, “Why would Brix say that? It doesn’t add up. This isn’t right. Something’s not adding up.” As if the idea is painful.
Tabby yells in outrage and is hilariously vindictive about the potion and her well-laid plans failing on Professor Gabriel. “These are tried-and-true techniques, Arwen. You should be basking in the afterglow of hot, sweaty professor sex. You must have done something wrong.”
I just want to hide under my bedcovers at the thought of it all. I do not defend the dignity of that plan.
“Hold on,” Holly stops her irate threats on Ryker’s body. “Did you say Sloth rebels kidnapped you?” The other girls stop too and look back at me. I may have rushed over the details of that part.
“Yes, I know leaving was stupid. But everything is okay. I got away. They didn’t do anything to hurt me.” I say, placating. I don’t want to linger on this topic.
“Wh.. What did they want?” Cleo asks, shell-shocked.
“I honestly don’t know. They were very cryptic about their plans… but they know that they have blown their cover by now. I doubt they are within a hundred miles of here anymore.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Holly says coming to sit by me and taking my hand.
Breakfast is a weird sort of battlefield. We eat in silence as we all process everything that has happened. Brix and Sly walk by us without saying a word and sit at a far table, pretending not to be a tableau of awkward.
Holly mutters that they still haven’t spoken.
Brix looks up right at me—there’s something raw and guilty in his expression that makes my chest contract.
I hate that he’s hurt. I hate that he’s struggling and that it’s my fault.
He quickly masks his face and looks away, going back to his conversation with Sly.
In the corner of my vision, I see Atticus walk in. He glides over and sits at our table as if this is the most casual thing in the world.
My eyes are as wide as saucers. He’s here. Sitting next to me. In public.
Heads turn. Conversations stutter. The room goes silent. I chance a quick glance at the table full of elite Pride freshmen that he usually sits at. Daphne and Camille shoot daggers with their eyes and then pretend not to notice. Slowly, everyone goes back to their conversations.
The awkward silence doesn’t last long at our table. Holly blurts, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I promised to help Arwen stay at the academy,” he says, dead calm. “We don’t have much time. I’m going to take every opportunity I can get to help work on a plan.” His words slice clean.
The table is… once again… stunned into silence. “So…” Atticus says carefully, “What is the plan?”
We stare at each other. Tabby finally says, “Well, Plan A through Plan Z blew up in our faces. We’re back at square one.
” It’s truer than any of us want. Atticus exhales, like he’s prepping for hard labor.
“Ok. So let’s start with plan A through Z then?
What have we tried that didn’t work?” My breath hitches and my eyes widen as I look at the girls with pleading eyes and minutely shake my head.
Atticus does NOT need to know that most our plans involved me trying to seduce him.
Nor does he know he’s not my only bond. He will have to stay oblivious on that front.
Thankfully, Holly catches my drift and says in a bored tone, “Who cares. They didn’t work. We need new ideas. You got any?”
Atticus looks at the table like he’s pondering something. “Maybe.” Then he turns to me while standing up to leave. “Meet me after class in the courtyard. I may have an idea.”
***
Faction history feels like walking into a trap. “You know the nightmare where you show up to class naked?” I ask Chloe as we get closer to the classroom. “Yeah…” she says.
“Well, this is like that, but instead of being naked, I was wearing a slutty schoolgirl outfit and trying to seduce my professor. Oh! And it wasn’t a dream.”
She hugs my shoulder in solidarity as we walk in. I expected to feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment, but I was not expecting the way his eyes found mine as soon as I walked in the door. And... his stare lingers. His eyes look heated and angry. Conflicting emotions.
I break eye contact first. Remembering his rough voice as it told me to stay away. He’s probably still angry from that interaction and aghast that I’d show my face in his class again.
I keep my head down, reading the words in my book as I count the second until this class is over. I’m the first out the door when the bell rings.
The day slithers by in classes and forced smiles. When the final bell rings, I force myself to stand. Sleep deprivation is catching up with me, but I don’t have time for a nap.
Gathering my things, the trek back to my dorm feels heavier than it should.
Words refuse to form, drained by the day, but fury spikes the moment Ryker struts into view, that insufferable cocky grin plastered across his face.
What makes it worse is my fated bond Alexi at his side.
I guess his warnings make a little more sense.
Every sob story I swallowed suddenly tastes like poison.
Nothing he said feels real anymore—if it ever was.
“Whoa, princess,” he says, walking up to me.
“Why do you look like you’re going to eat me alive?
” He looks at me with concern as he goes to put his arm around.
I dodge it and elbow into his gut as I spin out of reach.
He doubles over as the breath goes out of him, staring at me with annoyance and confusion.
Everyone around us stops to watch the show.
“Ryker, I’ve decided I’m tired of… Being. In. Your. Pocket.” I spit the words I overheard him say back at him as his eyes widen. “You should leave me the hell alone. Give my regards to your father. It sounds like Atticus isn’t the only pathetic puppet on Council strings.”
"What are you talking about?" He starts with an anxious look around.
"Just leave her alone, Ryker." Alexi responds, surprising me but not so much that I'm going to hang around to figure where this sudden protectiveness came from.
He looks at Alexi stunned as I turn and walk away. For once, people move out of my way.
I make it back to the dorm to change only to find the mirror in my room fogged. Someone has written in the condensation: I’m not ready for you to blow over yet, stormcloud. The handwriting has a jagged loop at the end. Maylo has been in here again.
“Is there no privacy?” I mutter to myself as I use my sleeve to wipe the words away.
“How is he getting in here?” I mutter. I lock the window, even though we are three stories up. The universe has gifted me the most psychotic bond in existence on top of all the other shit it has dumped on my plate. Clearly, he also knows of my attempted escape. Fantastic.
The courtyard is mercifully empty, as usual, when I arrive. My quiet place, where I used to stretch out, relax and pretend to be normal. Atticus stretches out on my bench in the sun. He sits up as I approach.
“I see why you like this spot,” he says.
“It is a pleasant spot when impending doom isn’t crowding my space,” I reply, sitting next to him.
He breathes in, and there’s a tilt to him—serious, careful. Like he’s weighing something in his mind. “I need to tell you about my ability,” he says. “It’s kind of necessary to explain my plan.”
I swallow. “Okay. I have to admit, I’ve been curious. You don’t show it off like some others.”
“Those with elevated powers won’t make a show of using them. A power no one is prepared for is more effective.” He says, staring at the ground before continuing.
He hesitates, jaw flexing like he’s weighing every word.
“My power… it lets me sense people. I can pick up on someone’s tilt.
What they’re leaning toward, what emotion is pulling at them, what outcome their instincts are reaching for.
It comes through as impressions, images sometimes, or just a… pull.”
My stomach knots. “So you can read minds?”
“Not their thoughts—don’t look at me like that.” His mouth twitches, almost a smile.
"It’s the shift in a person—their intention, their momentum. I read the sway of someone’s choices, not the thoughts themselves.”
He goes quiet for a beat, and something cautious shadows his features. “There’s another part,” he says finally. “A stronger part. Only my father knows about it.”
The air tightens between us.
“When I’m connected to someone—when I can feel that tilt—I can… shove it. Just a little.” His voice drops. “I can redirect someone’s will. Not mind-reading. Not puppeteering. More like catching a thought mid-fall and turning it in another direction.”
His throat works. “It’s dangerous. And I hate using it.”
I blink as I process what he’s saying. “You can command free will?” I whisper, almost in disbelief.
“In a way. But it drains me,” he admits. “It takes everything, and it feels... wrong. It’s easier to convince people without mental shields. And it’s also easier if it’s something small.”
Realization clicks. “The coffee. You made Jack, that rebel, deliver the coffee. And it had something in it?”
“Exactly.” He looks embarrassed and fierce at the same time. “Smaller tasks are easier. Convincing a man to deliver coffee is easier than convincing him to straight up attack another. I have to be careful.”
I stare at him. This is a power unseen for centuries. I can understand wanting to keep it a secret. It could create a lot of distrusts among those in power. It’s also terrifying. I hope he means what he says when he says he hates using it.
“So how does this play into your plan?” I ask.
He leans forward, eyes steady on mine. “I think I can use it with the Council to keep you at the academy. Not the entire Council, I doubt I could do that. But I think I’d only need my father.
If he supports it, a large majority of others will follow.
” His jaw tightens. “I’ll admit, it’s a long shot.
I’ve never used it on him. He has some of the strongest shields I’ve ever felt…
And if he figures it out- if he knows I tried to manipulate him- Universe, Arwen, I don’t even want to imagine it. ”
My chest is a mess of hope and terror. “This sounds insane,” I say, truthfully. “Dangerous. You could receive a punishment, or worse. I’ve already put enough people in danger chasing a place here. I can’t ask.”
He grabs my hand before I can refuse the words.
His fingers close around mine, not too hard, but firm enough that I don’t pull away.
There’s a steadiness in him that holds. “I’m doing this,” he says.
“I don’t care if it’s dangerous. And I know we have a long road ahead for me to earn your trust back, but you are my bond.
I’m going to protect you, like I should have all along. ”
I don’t expect the rawness on his face. “What changed?” I ask, “This whole time you’ve been adamant about protecting your reputation for your faction, for your future. I don’t know how to just believe that all went away? Why would you want to help me now?”
He exhales and looks away. “Because I’ve felt what it feels like when you are hurting. I felt my soul crushed when I caused you pain. I felt the miles that opened between us when I didn’t help. I felt you getting further and further away when you tried to run. It tore me apart.”
Stunned by his admission, I stay silent.
“I don’t think I can make it without you, Arwen.
When I’m near you—it feels right in a way my life never felt before.
I will not say I’ve fallen madly in love.
I know you wouldn’t believe me if I did.
We barely know each other. But I love what I have learned about you.
Every bit and piece of you I’ve learned is like a drug.
I just wake up every morning, dying to know more.
Dying to be near you. And when I deny that, it’s so painful I can’t think.
I don’t think I could physically handle your exile.
But more than that, I don’t WANT to lose you.
I’m tired of fighting the universe on this. ”
His hand is warm in mine. The bond thrums under my ribs like a butterfly. Each beat of wings, slowly mending and easing the pain of the broken bond. It feels so good, so right, but I know better than to trust pretty words now.
“I think it will take some time to build my trust back up,” I say. Truth, sharp and small.
“Then don’t trust me fully,” he says. “Trust me enough to let me try.”
I nod. This is reckless, stupid, and maybe delusional. We both know the stakes. We both know how ugly the consequences might be.
“Tomorrow,” I hear myself say. “Meet me before class. We’ll rehearse.”
He squeezes my hand once, then lets go. “Tomorrow.”
My palms burn where his fingers had been. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”