Page 46

“How quaint,” she said, her voice low and venomous. “The little Vale thinks she understands the depths of what Sam and I are.”

Her smile sharpened as she leaned in even closer.

“Tell me, Elvana—has he shown you the scar on his left shoulder blade? The one he earned shielding me from a rogue incantation when we were children? Or has he told you about the night we spent together under the summer solstice moon? The one where he kissed me and said nothing in the world had ever looked more beautiful”

Her words were barbed, designed to wound, but I refused to flinch. Instead, I found myself studying the almost desperate gleam in her eyes, the way her fingers clutched the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened.

“I don’t need to know every chapter of his past to recognize the difference between being loved and being controlled,” I said, my voice steady. “What you call affection sounds a lot more like possession.”

Vivienne’s expression changed in an instant. Her polished exterior cracked, and fury surged beneath the surface. The goblet beside her hand rattled softly, wine rippling as invisible magic pulsed between us. Lydia shifted closer, her shoulder brushing mine in quiet support.

“You know nothing about love,” Vivienne said sharply. “Nothing about sacrifice. While you were still playing with nursery charms, I was binding my future to his.”

Her voice wavered for half a second before she pulled it back together, sitting straighter.

“The things Sam and I have been through... the nights, the pain, the promises—none of it can be replaced by a few stolen glances and cryptic conversations. Don’t mistake his temporary interest for something lasting.”

Her gaze locked with mine, sharp and unrelenting.

“You’re a novelty, Elvana. A distraction. And when he remembers what matters, he’ll leave you exactly where he found you.”

The dining hall's enchanted candles flared brighter for a moment, as if responding to the tension crackling between us. I could feel the eyes of other students upon us now, conversations hushed as they watched our confrontation unfold.

“Yet for all your claims of connection,” I said, voice low but clear, “you talk about him like he doesn’t have a mind of his own. Maybe it’s not me who can’t see Samael clearly. Maybe it’s you… who refuses to see him as anything but an extension of yourself.”

Bethany inhaled sharply beside me. The room felt charged, the air between us electric and close to breaking. Across the table, Vivienne’s polished mask cracked. For the first time, I saw real rage flash behind her eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re meddling with, Vale,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a warning. “The ties that bind Sam and me were forged in sacrifice long before you ever set foot in these halls with your wide-eyed naivety.”

I reached for my coffee, needing the motion to ground me. But her next words stopped me cold.

“Your family legacy—the Vale Sisters—you think it’s some grand adventure, don’t you? Some riddle to solve, some crown to inherit.”

Her laugh was brittle, sharp, and far too loud. It cut through the hum of the hall like glass shattering on stone.

“They burned down everything they touched chasing power they were never meant to wield. You’re not walking their path, Elvana. You’re sprinting down it. And when you fall, no one will be surprised. Least of all Sam.”

The cup in my hand rattled against its saucer.

“Don’t you dare speak of my family,” I said, each word quiet but rigid with warning.

Vivienne didn’t flinch.

“I know more than you think,” she said, her eyes glittering with something cold and unrelenting. “Ask yourself why Sam is always watching you. Is it love… or containment?”

She leaned in one final inch.

“The Academy is holding its breath, Vale. Waiting for you to do exactly what your ancestors did. Tear everything apart.”

Bethany shifted uncomfortably beside me, and I felt Leander's hand tighten on my arm—a silent plea for caution that I ignored.

I had had enough of Vivienne's venomous accusations.

With a dismissive flick of my wrist, I took a long, steadying sip of my coffee, determined to shut out her bitter words.

“Vivienne, enough,” I said, my voice like ice. The sharp edge of finality cut through every word. “Your jealousy and delusions don’t define me. And I won’t let you twist what I hold dear into one of your bitter little fantasies.”

I set my cup down with precision. The porcelain struck the saucer with a clean, deliberate clack—a sound that echoed like a closing door.

At that very moment, Vivienne's eyes flashed with fury.

Without a word of further protest, she slammed her hand onto the table, sending a jolt of anger through the room, and spun away from the table.

Her abrupt departure—her chair screeching on the floor as she stormed off—left a heavy void of tension behind.

Around the table, the reactions were immediate and varied. Lydia's mouth fell slightly open in dismay as she whispered, "Oh dear," her usually calm demeanor betraying a mix of shock and concern.

Leander frowned deeply, exchanging a worried glance with Bethany; his eyes, usually so composed, now hinted at the alarm creeping into his thoughts.

Bethany's fingers trembled as she folded her hands tightly in her lap, her gaze flickering between the departing Vivienne and me, clearly unsettled by the escalating tumult.

Just as I tried to reclaim a semblance of normality by focusing on the lingering warmth of the coffee on my tongue, a sudden, searing pain slashed through my chest.

What began as a subtle tremor—a delicate quiver in my limbs and a slight hiccup in my heartbeat—quickly escalated. I blinked in confusion and reached for my cup once more, intent on clinging to that small comfort.

Before I could secure another sip, an overwhelming paralysis gripped my body.

My hands, still clutching the cup, refused all commands.

A cold terror surged through me as my breath caught in my throat, as if invisible chains were tightening around my very soul.

My vision blurred, and the room began to tilt, the familiar voices around me warping into distant echoes.

I attempted to cry out, but no sound emerged as I collapsed from my chair, crumpling onto the floor while the world spun in frantic disarray.

Overhead, my wide eyes fixed in silent terror on the ceiling as I desperately searched for something—anything—to anchor my faltering consciousness. Amid the chaos, screams erupted across the dining hall.

Chairs scraped and toppled as students leaped from their seats, faculty members shouted orders, their voices straining to rein in the pandemonium.

Lydia reached out instinctively, her face etched with horror, “Elvana, what’s happening?

Someone help!” Amidst the clamor, I felt the icy grip of panic tighten around me, each heartbeat now a slow, agonizing throb echoing in my ears.

Then, through the tumult of noise and confusion, I discerned the sound of hurried footsteps.

Samael burst into view, his presence demanding immediate attention as he knelt beside me, pulling me into his arms. His dark eyes were alight with urgency, and as his hands began to glow with a fierce, otherworldly light, magic swirled in the air around him—tendrils of luminous energy coalescing as he chanted in a language that resonated deep within the very walls of my soul.

"Stay with me, Elvana," his muffled voice urged. I was barely conscious, yet his words cut through the haze like a beacon. His incantation was potent and ancient, the syllables forming a protective barrier around my faltering body.

I could feel the hex—the malignant force that had poisoned my coffee—being drawn from me.

Dark tendrils of corrupted magic rose from my body like writhing smoke, twisting and screeching in their futile resistance before they evaporated into nothingness, leaving only a lingering black mist that slowly dissipated into the air.

Then there was nothing, nothing but him, nothing but the sound of his rampant heartbeat in my thoughts. The smell of sandalwood and mint caressed me as everything went black. In the ensuing silence, the chaotic uproar of the dining hall receded into a background murmur.

I blinked through the haze, struggling to breathe, each inhalation a labor. My vision cleared gradually, and I found myself gazing up at Samael's concerned face. His hand was gently moving the hair away from my face as he held me close to him.

For a heartbeat, our eyes locked, and in that fragile, intimate moment, I could sense the unspoken bond between us—a connection forged in the crucible of danger and despair.

"I’m here, little raven," he murmured, his voice soft and urgent.

I managed a weak nod, my heart still pounding as I attempted to regain control of my scattered senses.

The warm touch of his hand was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, a lifeline in the midst of chaos.

All around us, whispers and cries of alarm swirled, and the dining hall was filled with a charged murmur of suspicion and fear.

Questions flitted through the air like frightened birds: Who had placed that hex? Who would dare endanger me in such a manner? The uncertainty was as palpable as the lingering scent of dark magic that still clung to my skin.

Even as faculty rushed to assist and students gawked in stunned silence, I felt a spark of defiant warmth between Samael and me—a fleeting intimacy that dared to bloom despite the peril.

His eyes, steady and earnest, promised that he would protect me, even as dark whispers of conspiracy swirled around the room.

Julian dropped to his knees beside us, his dark coils glistening with sweat as though he'd forced his way across the dining hall. His eyes, wide with alarm, scanned the chaotic scene before landing on me cradled in Samael's arms.