Chapter 17
The office was suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with tension that hadn’t yet broken.
Thorn’s gaze lingered on the young girl hiding slightly behind Tehvan, her small hands clutching the edge of his cloak like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Her hair was unruly, a tangled brunette mess, dampened by the mist from the sea.
It framed round rosy cheeks, and her big blue eyes and pout displaying the innocence of a child.
For a fleeting moment, a tender look came over his face, like a hint of something close to sadness.
But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Tehvan shifted, opening his mouth to speak, but Thorn cut him off with a swift, raised hand. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice was calm, but the command in it was unmistakable. Tehvan moved again, instinctively, to answer for her, but Thorn’s sharp gaze held him in place.
The little girl peeked out from behind the cloak, her grip tightening. “Elora,” she squeaked, her presence as tiny as her.
Thorn’s lip contorted into a brief scowl, his eyes darting to Tehvan with quiet disdain before returning to the girl. “Was that always your name?”
Elora blinked, then gave a tiny shake of her head.
Thorn’s head tilted ever so slightly. “What was your name before?” She shrugged, a small, helpless motion. Her fingers wound tighter into Tehvan’s cloak, knuckles white against the fabric. Thorn’s eyes never left her as he spoke. “Her age?”
Tehvan straightened. “Nine. She was with The Snatchers.”
Elora recoiled at the word, her small body trembling. Thorn’s gaze flicked momentarily to the reaction before he turned away, his expression unreadable.
He shifted, motioning toward an old woman standing by the door. “Take Miss Elora to the dormitories and get her settled in.” Thorn checked the parchment on his desk. “Put her in the room with that mutt... Arria.”
The woman inclined her head obediently and started to take Elora’s hand. The girl hesitated, gripping Tehvan’s cloak with all her strength until he bent down, murmuring something in her ear. Slowly, she released him, her small hand sliding into the old woman’s grasp.
Immediately after Elora was gone, Thorn’s demeanor changed, his calm, indifferent facade dropping. His pupils darkened as they locked onto Tehvan. He was no longer hiding the fury that simmered below.
“What do you think you’re doing, Tehvan?” Thorn’s voice was low, dangerous, like he might strike the man depending on his answer.
Tehvan stepped forward, cautiously. “Let me raise her,” he said, his eyes pleading, though he remained firm. “Separate from your control.”
Thorn simply stared at him, incredulous, as if Tehvan had spoken something utterly incomprehensible. Then he barked a humorless laugh. “You want to raise her? You’re using her,” Thorn said, the accusation hanging in the air. “Don’t think I don’t see what this is. A stand-in for Flora.”
“You’re wrong.” Tehvan said, firm and clipped.
Thorn scoffed. “She looks just like her,” he snapped. “And the name—don’t insult me. Flora. Elora. It’s the same damn name. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Tehvan’s mouth was a thin line. “Her name was Florence. You were the only one who ever called her Flora.” He paused, drawing in a slow breath. “I named Elora after Eloranda Veyne. The scholar. Not my daughter.”
Thorn’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’re lying to yourself. You’re lying to her. Do you think bringing in a street orphan will make up for your failure? That you’ll get it right this time?” He moved closer, the space between them shrinking, his presence looming.
Tehvan’s fists clenched at his sides, his expression hardening, though the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “This isn’t about replacing Florence. But… But I want a second chance. I want to be better.”
For a long, tense moment, the room was silent. Thorn’s eyes bore into Tehvan’s, anger radiating from every inch of him. The stillness grew thick, suffocating, and then, finally, Thorn spoke.
“They’ll hate her,” he said coldly. “She’ll be an outcast, marked from the start. They’ll resent her for being treated differently.”
Tehvan’s head shook slightly, as if trying to convince himself more than Thorn. “But she’ll be protected. She’ll be safe.”
Thorn turned his back on the professor, his gaze drifting to the intricately carved window. From the yard below, a child’s laughter floated up, light, fleeting. His expression darkened. Slowly, he pivoted, lips curling into a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Fine,” he said, drawing out the word like a blade sliding from its sheath. “But on my terms. Or not at all.”
Tehvan’s body stiffened. “What terms?”
“Every time she falls out of line, when she earns a punishment, a different student will take it in her place. One of her friends, perhaps. If she makes any.” His eyes glinted with a dark promise. “They’ll suffer because of her. Can you live with that?”
Tehvan’s face twitched, but he didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched between them, the unspoken weight of the bargain sinking in. Finally, Tehvan gave the smallest nod.
Thorn continued, his voice dropping lower, more sinisterly.
“And if she fails the trials, and is forced to remain here as a ward, she will belong to me. You will forfeit all access to her.” He closed the gap between them, the weight of his nearness pressing like a shadow over Tehvan.
“You will lose your daughter all over again.”
Tehvan swallowed hard. “What if… what if she passes the trials?”
Thorn chuckled. “Then she’ll serve The Empire, like the others. But she’ll never be welcomed into this family.” His eyes narrowed. “I will never see her as my niece.”
Tehvan stood still, his shoulders slumped in defeat, the bargain hanging between them like a death sentence.
“Do you agree with my terms?”
Tehvan closed his eyes. “Yes, brother.”