Chapter 9 #2
“Or it would be peaceful,” Alaire muttered, softening the jab with a faint smile.
The creak of the brass knob was high-pitched enough even for Alaire’s ears. Professor Leslie strode in. “Let’s begin with sorting your teammates.”
“I think she means our masters,” Alaire whispered to Kaia, who shook with silent laughter.
“Brynne and Hunter.
“Emmyth and Kaylin.
“Else and Elmyra.
“Lorsan and Alanna.”
One by one, Professor Leslie called names. Gazes met across the room, most of them affectionate and friendly. Everyone seemed relieved not to be paired with the albatross that was Alaire.
She shifted in her seat with each pair, the pool of options narrowing. She couldn’t?—
“Dawson and Alaire.”
The world dropped out from under her. No. Anyone but him.
Alaire jolted upright. “Absolutely not. I am not working with him.”
“Considering your lack of magical ability, Dawson is the most decorated veteran of his class and best equipped to assist in your training. This is nonnegotiable if you intend to pass my class.”
Across the room, the prince smiled, infuriating and smug. She wanted to drive knitting needles through his eye sockets.
Alaire refused to give Dawson Knox even the slightest inclination he affected her. Because he doesn’t. Instead, she sat taller.
Kaia stepped on her boot, fanning herself in a he’s-so-hot gesture.
Alaire widened her eyes and dragged a finger across her throat. Kaia was going to hear about this later. A swift kick to the shin would cure her of any wild ideas.
There was no way the spoiled prince would do anything but brood from the perch his ego had built him. He was dangerous and, more than that, an ass. She had no interest in being partnered with someone like that.
Professor Leslie cleared her throat to call the next pair: “Caius and Kaia.”
Alaire didn’t bother concealing the enormous smile that split her face. Karma was swift and tasted oh so sweet.
Until she saw Kaia’s throat bob as her grip tightened on her knees.
The brief taste of victory soured. Alaire leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Are you okay?”
Kaia blew out a slow breath. Her gaze dropped to the floor before she straightened, shoulders squaring. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I’m not exactly looking forward to being paired with cranky pants, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
The flicker of vulnerability disappeared as Kaia gave her a sly grin. “We could use this to our advantage.”
Alaire smirked. Knowing and exploiting Dawson’s weaknesses would only serve her interests. Every piece of knowledge was a weapon—and Alaire intended to be heavily armed.
Even the mightiest oak had its gnarls and cracks. Discovering those vulnerabilities—his impatience, or that stoic mask she was sure would slip when pushed far enough—would give her the upper hand.
I’m going to show you exactly why you should never underestimate me.
“You have twenty minutes to get to know your partners,” Professor Leslie announced.
She felt the weight of his gaze before she saw him.
When she turned, he loomed over her like a cloud blotting out the sun, lips curved into a smirk—just enough to be insufferable, not enough to be charming.
“Get up. We’re going to the Serenity Gardens,” Dawson said abruptly, his tone brooking no argument.
She tilted her head, crossing her arms. “Serenity Gardens? Didn’t take you for the zen type.”
“Charming. But no. We’re going. Stop wasting my time.”
“Why?” she asked, not moving. “What’s wrong with staying here like everyone else?”
“The Serenity Gardens,” he repeated, words clipped. “Unless you’d prefer to argue with me for the next twenty minutes?” His voice dropped slightly, a challenge curling at the edges. “Although I’m starting to think you would enjoy that.”
Her pulse stuttered, but she covered it with a smirk. “You caught me. Nothing thrills me more than following orders from a fae with a superiority complex.”
His jaw flexed, the only sign her words had landed. “Did you forget Professor Leslie’s instructions? I’m training you, which means you defer to me.”
“And did you forget this partnership is supposed to foster loyalty and trust?” she shot back. “Newsflash, Dawson—barking orders doesn’t inspire either.”
His gaze raked over her, deliberately sizing her up. “You’re going to make this miserable, aren’t you?”
“I thought that was your job,” she replied, standing up and brushing past him.
Alaire rubbed her fingers against her scalp. I cannot work with him . Not for one second.
“The gardens, now, novice. Don’t make me repeat it.” He didn’t look back as he strode ahead.
His strides were annoyingly long, forcing her to jog every few steps. She muttered a string of insults under her breath.
“Why the gardens?” she asked as they passed through the castle doors into the fresh, overcast day. “Planning to bore me to death with plant trivia?”
Dawson didn’t even glance at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But perhaps a change of scenery will make you less… irritable.”
“I’m not irritable,” she snapped.
The garden’s manicured, haunting foliage glowed faintly in the soft light.
Dawson led them to a secluded alcove with a bench surrounded by deep, dark purple-to-black flowers, creating pools of burgundy.
The air was cooler here, the noise of campus only a distant hum.
Black anthuriums hung overhead, forming a dark, intimate canopy.
It could have been a peaceful retreat—if not for the company.
Alaire’s gaze landed on a cluster of obsidian dahlias, their petals almost velvety as they swallowed the light. Beside them bloomed black-fringed tulips and wicked witch coleus with leaves the color of dried blood. Clusters of midnight roses added to the display.
“Those suit you,” Alaire remarked, nodding toward the roses. “Dark, broody, and full of thorns.”
Unique and beautiful too.
His head tilted slightly, gaze fixed on her with unnerving precision. For a moment, silence stretched, thick and charged. Then, softly: “Careful, Aerendyl. Someone might think you’ve been paying attention to me.”
Alaire angled her body away and snorted, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Trust me, Knox, I’d rather take notes on dirt.”
“Feel free to call me ‘Most-Revered-Premiere-Lord-in-waiting,’ if you prefer.”
Her cheeks burned. He’d heard them.
Dawson settled on the bench, posture relaxed, eyes locked on hers. Heat spread like magma through her veins, leaving her flustered and strangely exposed under the weight of his gaze.
“How exactly did you con your way into a spot at Aeris Academy?” he asked, deceptively light.
His question yanked her right back to reality.
“If I had to con my way anywhere, I promise it wouldn’t be here with you .”
His turquoise eyes narrowed. “And yet, here you are.”
Dawson rose from the bench, stepping closer. She hated how aware she was of him—his height, the way his leathers clung to broad shoulders, the roll of his throat when he swallowed, the faint scent of frosted evergreen and salted wind, and mostly, how instinctively she was drawn to him.
“Here I am,” she said steadily despite the flutter in her stomach. “Doing what I’ve been told. I do not want to be here. Perhaps you could get that through your obnoxious skull.”
“You are not one of us,” Dawson stated, ignoring everything she’d just said. “Everyone knows it.”
The doubt ignited instantly, but she refused to let him see it.
Alaire stepped closer until barely a breath separated them, the floral scent doing nothing to soothe the irritation buzzing beneath her skin.
“And where should I be, then, prince ? Locked away? Serving your kind like some obedient little human?”
He didn’t flinch at her proximity. Tension crackled between them. “Anywhere but here,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down.
Dawson’s gaze swept over her like he was taking stock of every inch. It wasn’t leering—it was assessing, calculating, like he was searching for cracks in her armor.
He leaned even closer, and her body hummed in appreciation. His voice dipped low, a dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “What are you hiding, Alaire? Why are you here?”
Two could play this game. Alaire gave him a rueful smile as she brushed a hand over his chest. “Maybe I enjoy the thrill of ruffling fae feathers.”
He blew a breath against the soft shell of her ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Good thing I never play to lose,” she said, leaning into his body heat, her heart pounding too fast for her liking.
“When you fail, it’ll be because you tripped over your own ego.”
Her pulse stuttered as he splayed a hand against her back, pulling her closer, their eyes locked, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“You’re obviously speaking from experience.” Her head felt light.
The tension between them was suffocating now. He didn’t move, his breath mingling with hers. His eyes raked down the curve of her face, then the slope of her neck.
“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, stepping back just enough to reclaim some space.
She hated how her body registered the loss, the sudden chill where his heat had been. It was ridiculous. Infuriating.
“Professor Leslie made a mistake pairing us together,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Alaire caught a glimpse of the abstract lines of his tattoos.
Before she could respond, he turned sharply, heading toward the garden’s edge. She should’ve let him go—should’ve been glad to be rid of him.
“Finally, something we can agree on!” she yelled at his retreating figure.
Her gaze followed him, drawn unwillingly to the way the muscles in his back moved as he walked away, tension hinting at the barely restrained energy. She hated that she noticed—hated that she wondered what it would take to break that icy composure.
Dawson stopped suddenly and turned, catching her watching. His eyes darkened, a spark of something treacherous flickering there, and he tilted his head slightly as he prowled back toward her.
For the life of her, she couldn’t make herself move.
“Something you want to say, Aerendyl?”
He was so close now that the toes of his boots brushed hers.
Alaire swallowed, her mouth dry. The question hung between them; a challenge laid bare. She looked away first, her gaze landing on the array of dark and twisted plants around them. “I wish one of those would sprout legs and bite you. Might do us both a favor.”
His smile widened, making her blood simmer. “Careful, Firework. Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you’re the one who wants to do the biting.”
Her jaw dropped. “You?—”
“Relax, Aerendyl. I’m only pointing out that your eyes have been glued to me for the past thirty seconds.” Dawson let out a low chuckle.
“You’re one to talk. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how yours are always on me, Knox,” Alaire shot back. “If I was looking, it was only while thinking how euphoric it would feel to punch that grin off your face.”
“So you were staring,” he drawled, eyes lighting with mirth.
Alaire opened her mouth to fire back, but something in his expression stopped her. The grin was still there, but it had lost its spark, like a mask slipping back into place. She didn’t know him well enough to understand what had changed—only that it had.
“You’re not the first to wish harm on me, Aerendyl. Nor will you be the last.” His voice was calm and detached, but there was weight behind it, something deeper he hid well.
The confession caught her off guard.
“What happened?” The words slipped out before she could stop them; her curiosity always got the better of her.
“None of your business,” he said, clipped.
Alaire rolled her eyes. “Right. Of course. How stupid of me to expect you to be remotely amicable for two seconds.”
His gaze snapped back to hers.
She scoffed. That’s what she got for trying to be empathetic toward a fae, of all things. “Keep your secrets, Knox. I couldn’t care less. But don’t expect me to play the obedient partner. I don’t take orders. Not from you. Not from anyone.” Her frustration became a living entity within her.
“Is that so?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Because from where I’m standing, you seem desperate to prove yourself.”
“Must be exhausting, hauling around an ego the size of a kingdom and expecting the rest of us to carry it.”
“Are you offering, Firework? You’re a pretty distraction, but you’ll burn out soon enough,” he sneered, rocking back on his heels.
“Don’t call me that.” Vitriol laced every word.
He smirked, cruel and sharp. “Hm… not fond of that. Even better.”
Alaire’s blood boiled. She couldn’t endure him for one more moment. Spinning on her heel, her hair whipping around, she snapped, “We’re done here.”
He didn’t follow, just called after her, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She didn’t look back as she stormed out of the gardens, gravel crunching angrily beneath her boots. The distance did little to cool her temper; the fire raged inside, fueled by every word he’d thrown at her.
As the Serenity Gardens disappeared behind her, swallowed by the campus buildings, Alaire’s stride didn’t falter.
If Dawson Knox thought he could intimidate her, he was in for a brutal awakening. She bowed to no one, least of all an ice-hearted fae brute who probably loved only himself and a blank piece of parchment for a personality.
Alaire didn’t head back to class—she couldn’t handle sitting through another minute pretending to care. She’d rather face the consequences of skipping. After all, consequences were something she’d become excellent at handling.
Game on, prince .