Chapter 38 Devotion and Discipline #2
I think of the times I dissociate, searching for numbness.
“Sometimes it doesn’t have to. How long can one be expected to remain strong if they’ve lost everything?
If they’re unsafe? Or beaten? Unwanted? Perhaps the person with power doesn’t directly steal their strength, but they create conditions that erode it.
I don’t think we can pretend they don’t intersect at some point. ”
“What do you think, Professor Whitlock?” Professor McGuiness’s gaze shifts to the open door where Holden stands.
My heart stops, wishing I could take back my words that sound too much like an admission.
Holden steps into the room, slow and deliberate, his eyes never meeting mine. “I believe there is danger in power without discipline. And there is tragedy in strength without purpose.”
His words scatter barbs across my skin.
A slow smile spreads across Professor McGuiness’s face. “It’s been too long since I’ve had you in class, Mr. Whitlock. Have you met Miss Breslin? Her insatiable curiosity reminds me a bit of you, especially with how she likes to question every side of a situation.”
“He’s my Runes professor,” I say flatly.
Holden’s jaw flexes as he nods. “Yes. Actually, that’s how I found my way here. I’ve been tutoring Miss Breslin in Alchemy and Runes to help her get caught up, and I was expecting her five minutes ago.”
“My fault,” Professor McGuiness says as he clasps his hands and smiles. “I enjoy hearing her thoughts and experiences.” He turns to me. “I hope Mr. Whitlock is challenging you. You have a bright future, Miss Breslin.”
His compliment stuns me. Undoes me.
“I look forward to discussing the cost of leadership with you tomorrow,” he adds, locking his drawer with a wave of his hand.
I step back as I bid him goodbye, and nearly lose my balance as I come to a full stop to prevent colliding with Holden.
Panic sweeps through me as my gaze shoots to his arm, ensuring I didn’t get close enough to graze him and order my own death sentence.
I audibly sigh at the absence of the dark line.
Holden’s dark gaze narrows on me. “Let’s go, Miss Breslin.”
Awkwardness coils around me, tight as a noose, each of my movements wooden and forced.
“I would hardly consider your trainings beatings.” Holden’s voice is as icy as his posture.
My pulse spikes. Unlike Kai and Lochlan, Holden hasn’t witnessed the monsters of my past. He has only mindwalked while we practice echoes, when I carefully select and craft the memory.
I’m shocked he doesn’t know.
Even more so, I’m grateful.
Yet it feels like another weight—something that can be exploited.
“It was a hypothetical conversation.”
He tilts his head ever so slightly, his scrutiny sharp enough to pierce my skin.
“Hey, Bri,” Wynn calls, tearing my attention to where he and Everett are standing across the breezeway from where we’re standing. “Did you get a pass? You want to go to lunch?”
Holden shifts—just slightly—a calculated move to distance himself.
I shake my head. “I have a couple more weeks of tutoring sessions.”
“You can bring your homework Sunday when we go to Portelina. It’s a couple-hour drive each way,” Wynn says.
Absently, I nod.
“Did you hear back on the position at the library?” Gideon asks.
“Not yet.”
Holden’s head snaps, his stare so intense it’s a brand, but I refuse to acknowledge him.
“I have to get going, but I’ll message you guys.” I wave before turning toward the brick building where the Runes class is, Holden two steps behind me.
“You applied for a job at the library?” Holden asks the moment the door closes.
The sweet-and-spicy scent of lunch hits me before I take in Lochlan, already seated.
“Yes,” I reply curtly, slipping into my seat, which is carefully positioned far enough from the other two that our feet and legs don’t risk brushing.
“Why?” Holden demands.
My chest tightens.
“Are the accommodations provided not meeting your standards, Witchling?” Lochlan drawls, laying a napkin across his lap.
A lump grows in my throat that I shove down with a hard swallow as I face him. The past six weeks have dulled some of the terror I feel in his presence. “Just remembering my role.”
“Which is what, exactly?” One dark brow lifts, his silver eyes fixed on me with that particular brand of patience that feels more like a trap than curiosity.
“While I appreciate everything that has been provided,” I try not to grit the words so they sound genuine. They are, but I also feel forced to be grateful, and for that, I’m anything but thankful. “I came here with nothing.”
“You barely touch your closet,” Lochlan retorts. “You wear the same three sets of workout clothes and barely more here to Thornhurst.”
The vulnerability his harsh words uncover is unexpected.
“I didn’t ask for all of that. I didn’t mean for anyone to feel obligated or…
” I shake my head, hating the heat that consumes my cheeks, revealing just how uncomfortable I am with the lavish gifts.
“I don’t want to get a job to buy more clothes. ”
“Then what do you want the money for?” Holden asks.
“So that once you discover whatever brought me into your orbit and resolve it, I can pay you back for everything. The clothes, the crystal link, the food…” I gesture to the meal in front of me. “All of it.”
Holden stares at me, but rather than mirth or anger, I’m pretty sure it’s regret shading his dark eyes, and that makes me feel a whole new level of vulnerability that threatens to crack the veneer of control I’ve somehow managed to maintain before he shakes his head.
“It’s yours. You don’t need to worry about paying us back. ”
My eyes grow hot and clouded with a thin sheen of tears that I refuse to shed as I press my thumbs to my second knuckle. “I appreciate that, but I can’t accept.” I clear my throat. “Also, while we’re cleaning house, you guys don’t need to wait for me to eat. It’s unnecessary and ridiculous.”
Lochlan’s stare is another brand, but like earlier with Holden, I avoid looking at him as I open the cardboard box, finding pasta dotted with vegetables and smothered in a rich cream sauce, a salad, and several moonberry tarts that have my mouth watering as my heart tries to recall its rhythm.
“Your suggestion has been noted,” Holden murmurs, opening his lunch. “And dismissed.”
A slow grin spills across my features, but neither of them looks amused.
“Eat,” I declare, picking up a tart because if nothing else, I’ve learned waiting for dessert is a waste of time.
And maybe waiting for answers is, too.