Chapter 15
Fifteen
A laire spun on her heel and stalked out of the room. An archway to the side led to a secluded garden filled with the same aromatic blooms as the atrium’s main hall.
Footfalls crunched on the gravel behind her. Heat rose at the base of her skull—she didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Her temper flared. Gods, the nerve. Sparks within her began to smolder into embers.
She’d made it into a maze of wildflowers when a hand closed around her elbow, yanking her back.
Looking up, she met the fuming stare of the dark prince. Good. Now he knew how it felt.
“Stop trying to spin my actions to justify your anger. It’s immature and pathetic. I was trying to do the right thing.” Dawson’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“You were just protecting your partner. Couldn’t risk a potential loss on your spotless record, right?” Her chest rose and fell rapidly. He stepped in because he had to. Because her failure would tarnish his reputation. Not because he cared.
It’s better this way.
His mouth twisted. “You’re not invincible, Alaire. Kole had you at a disadvantage.”
Wind kicked up the earth beneath her feet. “Magic is something else entirely.”
A vein bulged in his neck. “When he had his hands on you…” he growled, eyes wild. “I was going to fucking rip him apart.”
He leaned in until they were nose to nose. Fury swam in his gaze. He looked seconds away from ripping every blade of grass from its roots.
Dawson was all she could see. Her eyes flicked to his lips before snapping back up.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I’m capable of.” Anger simmered like hot coal beneath her skin. “I’ve survived more than you could imagine, seated on your high horse of nobility.”
“You take risks that aren’t bold—they’re reckless,” Dawson shot back.
“Reckless?” Alaire spat. “That’s rich coming from someone with access comfort and security most would trade their souls for.”
“Try thinking before you act. I assure you, it’s not a novel concept,” he said, eyes narrowing. “For better or worse, we’re stuck together. Partners are supposed to help each other.”
“And you’re going to help me? Yeah, right…” She scoffed. “You made it painfully clear from the moment I arrived that you despise the very air I breathe.”
“How many times will you carelessly charge into danger before it finally consumes you?” Dawson dragged a hand through his hair.
She tried not to note how it had come loose, framing his face in a dark curtain.
“Get your shit together, Alaire. If you don’t want my interference, stop putting yourself in positions that require it. ”
“I don’t see why you even care. All I am to you is a disposable human,” Alaire retorted. “Sometimes you have to act first and think later. Trust your instincts—even if it means burning to ashes to become something better, stronger, faster. Of all people, I mistakenly thought you’d understand that.”
Alaire’s words hung heavy between them. She drew in a shaky breath, chest heaving as a storm of anger and defiance built within her. Tingling spread through her fingers, palms itching with a sensation she’d never experienced—like a million tiny fireflies waking from slumber beneath her skin.
Energy stirred in her core and spread outward. It felt as if a crack had splintered open in some deep part of her, and what poured through was only a wisp of what lay within.
Without warning, the energy surged—fierce, wild, demanding release. Her fingers stretched before her, and a flicker of white-hot fire danced on her palm.
She stood frozen, shock giving way to fear. Since the night of the fire, she’d avoided open flames—they triggered her nightmares. But this felt different. A strange calm settled over her as she studied the swaying flame.
It was both searing and sublime. The spark sizzled on her skin without burning, leaving a trail of heat that sank deep into her muscles.
Her heart skipped. She had magic .
How was that even possible? She was human. Humans didn’t have magic.
The flame flickered and died like a star winking out in the night. A hollow ache bloomed in its place.
Her senses slowly returned, drawn back by the sharp inhale behind her. Alaire turned to find Dawson standing rigid, bearing witness to what they both knew was impossible.
His usual stoic mask had slipped, revealing unguarded astonishment. “You have magic,” he said, his voice laced with wonder—something she’d never heard from him before.
Dawson’s eyes, wide and searching, stayed fixed on her. And the way he looked at her in that moment somehow felt like more .
Silence stretched between them.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away, and that’s what scared her most. What they’d uncovered tonight was bigger than either of them.
“Did you know?” Those aquamarine depths searched hers with startling earnestness.
“No.” She shook her head. It was the truth.
A small kernel of hope flickered to life. She had magic—she could survive, learn, participate in class, fulfill her bargain. Live on her own terms, never beholden to anyone again.
A screech pierced the sky. Gargantuan wings beat overhead. Soaring above the water that surrounded the southern edge of Eclat Castle was a griffin—the Celestial Familiar of House Aetheris.
Alaire’s eyes widened in awe as the creature descended with immeasurable grace. Its robust body was cloaked in black feathers that gleamed beneath the night sky, its curved beak almost smirking at her.
She’d heard about the celestials for years, worshipped as direct descendants of the gods.
But this was the first time she’d seen one in person.
With the head and wings of an eagle, the rest of the griffin’s form gave way to the sleek, muscular build of a lion, complete with a tufted tail.
She was a goner.
“Careful,” Dawson warned. “He doesn’t take kindly to strangers.”
But Alaire didn’t feel threatened. She was still riding the high of discovery—of flame and power, of something impossible made real.
Emboldened, she stepped forward.
“His name is Beck,” Dawson said.
She reached out slowly, letting the creature decide. The griffin bowed his head in acceptance.
“How do you know?” she asked, not daring to take her eyes off the griffin.
“He’s mine .”
Of course he was. Dark, dangerous, and undeniably lethal. Just like his flier.
But the way Dawson claimed him—with quiet ferocity—made her breath catch. A traitorous lick of desire slid down her spine.
For one reckless moment, she let herself wonder what it would be like to be claimed with that same intensity, like nothing and no one else in the world mattered.
Alaire’s fingers trailed through the fine feathers on Beck’s head as she murmured soft, cooing sounds he seemed to enjoy. Her movements were gentle, reverent.
Dawson watched—speechless. Alaire couldn’t help but smirk.
She found a spot just beneath Beck’s neck that he liked. He leaned into her touch, nails scraping the earth. The more she scratched, the more he arched into her. A low rumble vibrated through his chest.
“He likes you.” Dawson cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. He looked toward the windows of the atrium.
“Whatever body rub you’re giving him”—his voice dropped, rough and uneven, his gaze lingering on her a beat too long—“he’s… enjoying it.”
Why did he sound so pained? Surely, he wasn’t jealous of his griffin.
Beck’s tail wrapped around her ankles, tugging her closer. She had to clutch his feathers to keep from falling over.
“He’s spectacular.”
“He is,” Dawson agreed. “I wouldn’t have survived my first year—amongst other things—without him.”
“Other things?”
She tried to disentangle herself from Beck, but he swung his beak around her. Alaire froze, worried he might peck at her. Instead, he nudged her arm, clearly urging her to continue.
A giggle escaped her lips; she couldn’t help it. This magnificent creature was a big ol’ baby.
“Turns out, the human can laugh.”
Alaire flipped him off. “She can. Though not because of anything you’ve ever done. That would require you to have an actual personality.” Soon, she’d be able to singe off his gorgeous raven locks.
“Why haven’t I seen more creatures around?”
“Connected to the Versaille Labryinths is a designated space for the celestials called the Sanctuaries. Enchanted to adapt to each creature’s preferred environment, the space provides them with whatever they need.
The celestials tend to make themselves scarce, emerging only for classes or when needed by their fliers. ”
She still hadn’t met Hadrian. Kaia was going to freak out when she saw Alaire’s magic.
Magic . Her pulse hammered against her throat as she tried to ignore the hollow ache in her chest, the absence of something she hadn’t known she was missing.
Humans didn’t— couldn’t —have magic. But the phantom heat still tingled across her fingertips, a reminder that everything she thought she knew about herself might be a lie.
Refusing to give Dawson another reason to see her as fragile, Alaire pushed the thought aside. Thinking about it wouldn’t help. Better to pretend her world hadn’t just fallen off its axis.
“So why is Beck here? And why are you in your leathers?” Alaire finally noticed, now that some of her rage had dissipated.
“Getting in some extra training.”
Alaire narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t buying that for one second.
“Or on official House Aetheris business. With Caius.” She crossed her arms. Caius had been in his leathers at the party too.
Dawson narrowed his eyes.
“Next time you guys want to be stealthy, I’d suggest one of you change out of your gear before showing up to a party—if you don’t want people putting things together.”
He exhaled heavily.
“So, are the rest of us allowed to go traversing off campus?” Alaire cast him a sidelong glance, already knowing the answer but savoring the chance to make him say it aloud.
“No,” he said curtly, his reply clipped and wrapped in that unwavering authority he wore like armor.