Chapter Twenty-Five
Avari
The energy wrapped around my body like sticky glue, clinging to my skin and clothes as though it were reluctant to let me go, before vanishing the moment I stepped into the dark room.
My erratic pulse throbbed at the base of my throat, as my horrific imagination worked overtime, coming up with increasingly deranged ways they might train their students.
They wouldn’t dismember me, would they?
In my mind the place was anything but ordinary, yet the room resembled a regular portal chamber.
Slightly more opulent than the ones at the school I attended, as the brick walls had been embellished by massive portraits with shiny, golden frames depicting people I didn’t know.
Thick velvet curtains covered the back wall, though with how stuffy it felt, I had a sneaking suspicion there was no window.
‘How did you get that clearance?’ A tall, muscular woman asked in an accusatory tone, appearing on my side and snatching the key from around my neck.
I summoned it back into my hand just as easily. ‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?’
‘This key belongs to royalty and upper ranks; you are neither,’ she hissed. ‘Give it back before I take it from your severed hands.’
Though I never used my flames in battle, I bet I could have scorched her stubby fingers before she managed to lay them on me.
Whether it was Anya’s violent predispositions rubbing off on me or my tired brain pushing me toward danger, the idea brought a smile to my face that the strange warden didn’t appreciate.
‘You would sever my hands?’ I asked with a chuckle. ‘That’s unnecessarily drastic, don’t you think? Besides, would you kindly use your brain cells? Out of all the places I could go with this key, would I choose the War College for a forbidden stroll?’
Her eyes widened, constricted, then returned to normal as a sour scowl pulled her scarred face downward. ‘Who the fuck are you? Speak before it gets ugly,’ she warned before unsheathing her knife.
And perhaps it was my stupidity or a complete disregard for consequences, but with a quick twist of my hand, I summoned her blade to admire the carvings. ‘Pretty.’
‘You–’ she hissed, charging at me like a bull before a simple declaration stopped her in her tracks.
‘I’m a Nightborn,’ I said proudly, fixing my posture.
‘Lies!’ the woman screeched, staying away and typing away on her phone, glancing at me what felt like every second.
‘Message Isaac while you’re at it. He’s the reason I came here and received your overwhelmingly pleasant welcome in the first place.’
She demanded, ‘Isaac who?’
I didn’t actually know. ‘The combat professor.’
The girl erupted into a fit of wicked laughter. ‘I don’t know what sort of god complex you have, little girl, but mark my words, show him respect, or he will destroy you.’
‘Should I bow when I meet him, then?’ I mocked her devotion.
‘Your funeral,’ she responded cheerfully. ‘Turn left; his office is at the very end. Give me my blade back before I gut you with it.’
Horrendous wretch. With my newly discovered knack for teaching people manners, I decided to bewitch the blade to hover in the air just outside her reach.
Turning back, I attempted to sound innocent when I instructed, ‘It will stay this way until you admit you’re rude and take your frustrations out on undeserving visitors. ’
The miserable warden shouted something obscene, but I was long gone and on my way to Isaac’s office. Laughter bubbled in my throat as I imagined her struggle.
The corridor stretched on for what felt like an eternity, its polished wooden walls too tempting not to touch.
It wasn’t nearly as embellished as the portal room, yet it was far more modest than my imagination had conjured.
It was also unnervingly quiet for such a massive war school. Not what I’d expected at all.
At last, I reached it. Isaac's office. I knocked and waited but nobody answered. Then I plastered myself as close to the door as possible and took a long whiff to see if his scent lingered inside. It was something I had found myself doing a lot lately since my sense of smell was becoming stronger.
But either using my nose as a guide was leading me astray or… could he have forgotten about our training? One thing was certain: I wasn’t going back to the portal chamber anytime soon, which left one perfectly reasonable solution.
As I twisted the door handle, a scowl crept across my face. For a moment, I hoped it would be open, but a part of me expected a challenge. Considering Isaac’s reclusive nature, I found it peculiar that he left it unlocked.
I slipped inside, remaining quiet as if it made a difference.
The space was homely and warm; bookcases as tall as the walls encapsulated the office and had been stocked with so many tomes my eyes struggled to settle on anything in particular.
The luxurious mahogany wood created a cosy atmosphere that didn’t quite fit this place.
So that’s where his woody scent had come from.
Iron, wood and something sweet, I couldn’t pinpoint.
A framed photograph of five people rested on his desk. Isaac stood at one end, smiling, while two women embraced in the centre, with a man on either side of them.
‘My family,’ he said quietly, yet his voice carried through the room. My clumsy hands nearly dropped the photo frame, I saved it just in time to put it back as he neared his desk with a smirk. ‘You found my office, I see.’
‘A very pleasant portal warden directed me toward it.' A note of bitterness stuck to my voice that piqued his interest.
‘You portalled in?’ Isaac’s eyebrows quirked. ‘Lucricia doesn’t appreciate strangers.’
‘Yeah, I noticed. What a miserable—’
He assessed me. ‘Portal duty is a punishment for lesser crimes. She stabbed one of the students.’
She looked like the type to stuff somebody’s pet, but stabbing seemed right up her alley too. ‘Psychos aside, was there a reason you moved the session here?’
The swivel recliner groaned under his weight as he outstretched his hand toward the wall.
‘You kept complaining you know nothing about the Isles; take your pick of the books that will tell you everything there is to know,’ he said as pride sparkled in his bright eyes.
‘Besides, the academic year started again, so sometimes it might just be easier to meet here. Unless that’s a problem? ’
‘Not a problem.’ My voice rose an octave as I imagined how unpleasant the other students must be. ‘Didn’t you get hired to train me in the shadow craft, though?’
‘I’ve researched what I could find on recovering from blood witch draining. I think it might take a while until your shadows recuperate.’
Hearing him confirm my suspicions stung. ‘Doesn’t that mean you’re off the hook? It’s not like you wanted to teach me anyway.’
‘I didn’t want to teach a pampered princess. Things changed,’ he sounded genuine.
Something about the confession tickled my pride.
‘Then you’re not as impartial to my charm as I thought,’ I joked, looking back to the first time we met and how I cussed him out.
He leaned back. ‘Never claimed to be, you menace. You have a way of being annoying in ways that humour me. Go figure.’
I chuckled. ‘Lies.’
‘Huh?’
‘You don’t have a sense of humour.’ I accused him, trying to keep a straight face. ‘My theory is your muscles take up so much oxygen, it doesn’t leave enough for your brain to function the way it’s designed to.’
Isaac looked stunned, struggling to get his words out. Crossing his arms over his chest, he flexed, twisting his mouth as though he were fighting a smile. ‘I’m yet to meet another person who feels as comfortable insulting me as you do.’
Was I being too much?
I didn’t think so, with how smug he was usually, he could use somebody giving him a slight reality check. Though it wouldn’t hurt to know where I stood. ‘Is that your way of saying I need to stop?’
‘No, quite the contrary, I find it amusing,’ he drawled, flashing his perfect teeth. Could a woman be jealous of a man’s beauty? He was too perfect. So polished and prepped.
Maybe instead of teaching me how to use shadows, he could train me in becoming classier.
Though the more I observed him, the more it seemed his ideal appearance was designed to lull people into a false sense of safety around a predator capable of crushing them without remorse.
I’d heard enough about him to know he was capable of terrible things…
It fascinated me just how depraved he truly was.
Diverting my gaze to the wide window, I made my way there to sit on the wide windowsill. It overlooked a neatly kept rose garden in the shape of a maze. ‘My insults amuse you?’
He stood, took off his jacket and hung it over the backrest of his chair before making his way to the opposite side of the windowsill.
‘The fact you feel comfortable enough with me to insult me this freely does. Also, the fact that your mind obviously bookmarked my muscles as something worth mentioning.’
‘This is the lack of oxygen talking,’ I said very seriously. ‘Maybe you need to unbutton that tight collar; your shirt seems to be making you delirious.’
‘Listen, Ava, if you want me to take my shirt off, all you need to do is ask,’ he murmured without a shred of shame.
Shit, I backed myself into that corner. Why was he even entertaining this troublesome conversation? ‘I thought you said you were busy? Yet, you suddenly have time to strip for me, something doesn’t add up. Maybe we need to crack open the window, some fresh air might help you.’
Mischief danced in his eyes. ‘The vision of my shirtless torso making you too hot? It’s okay to admit defeat, I’ll gladly open the window so you can cool down your urges.’
‘I urge you to—’
Someone knocked on the door, and a moment later it swung open. People just walked in here?
‘Oh.’ An elegant woman in a tight dress stopped in her tracks. ‘I wasn’t aware you had a visitor. One of the prospective students?’