Page 47

"What in the seven hells happened?" he demanded, kneeling beside us. His fingers sparked with defensive magic, ready to counter any lingering threat. The intricate patterns woven into his robes glowed faintly, responding to the residual dark energy that hung in the air like poisonous fog.

"Someone tried to kill her," Samael replied, his voice unnervingly calm despite the storm brewing in his eyes. His arms tightened around me protectively, and I felt a fresh wave of warmth course through my still-trembling body.

Julian's gaze darted to my half-empty coffee cup, understanding dawning on his face.

"Hexed drink," he muttered, not a question but a grim confirmation.

He reached out, his hand hovering above the cup as he closed his eyes in concentration.

"This is old magic. Ancient. Not something you'd find in any Academy textbook. "

The crowd parted once more as Edric approached, his silver eyes gleaming like cold stars in the dimming light of the hall.

Edric moved with deliberate silence, each step measured and precise.

His medium brown hair fell loosely around his face, partially concealing his expression, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze as it locked first on me, then traveled to the cup, and finally settled on Samael.

"You sensed it just in time," Edric observed, his tone betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"Barely," Samael replied tersely, still cradling me against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat—rapid and strong—belying his outward composure.

Edric knelt on my other side, opposite Julian, forming a protective triangle around me. With elegant efficiency, he produced a small vial from an inner pocket of his robes. The liquid inside shimmered with an opalescent glow, catching the light in hypnotic patterns.

"Drink this," he instructed, his voice low enough that only our small circle could hear. "It will neutralize any remaining traces of the hex and ease the aftereffects."

I hesitated, my recent poisoning making me wary of consuming anything. Edric's pale silver eyes met mine, and for the briefest moment, I glimpsed something unexpected—genuine concern, quickly masked behind his usual enigmatic facade.

"I wouldn't offer it if I wasn't certain," he added, the faintest hint of gentleness softening his words.

With trembling fingers, I accepted the vial. The liquid tasted of starlight and frost, and as it slid down my throat, a cooling sensation spread outward, chasing away the burning remnants of the hex.

Leander came to stand behind Julian, his face contorted with distress. "Who would—"

"A question we all share, Mr. Sterling," came a commanding voice that silenced the entire hall in an instant.

Headmistress Grimrose stood at the threshold of the dining hall, her tall figure casting a long shadow across the floor.

The emerald green of her robes seemed to absorb the candlelight rather than reflect it, creating an aura of unearthly authority as she swept forward, silver hair streaming behind her like moonlight on water.

Every step she took was measured, deliberate, the silver embroidery on her sleeves catching the light like captured stars.

"Stand aside," she ordered, and students parted before her like a tide receding from shore.

Headmistress Grimrose knelt beside me with surprising grace for a woman of her stature, her piercing violet gaze sweeping over me before shifting to Samael.

"Mr. Norwood," she acknowledged, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Your swift action appears to have saved Miss Vale's life."

Samael inclined his head slightly but did not loosen his protective hold. "The hex was ancient, Headmistress. Necrotic in nature, designed to consume from within."

Headmistress Grimrose’s gaze lingered on me for a long, silent moment as the opalescent remnants of the hex faded from my senses. I could still feel the cooling tingle along my skin, a lingering reminder of the terror that had just passed.

Around us, the murmurs of anxious students dwindled into an expectant hush as she rose, her presence commanding immediate attention.

"Stand aside," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for dissent. The students obeyed, parting like water before her, until only our small group remained—a fragile island of guilt, relief, and unspoken questions.

I stole a glance at Bethany, who, with wide eyes, clutched her plate, her features etched with concern. Behind me, Leander’s expression was a mixture of relief and lingering worry as he glanced repeatedly between me and the still-intense figure of Samael, whose protective stance had not wavered.

Then, almost imperceptibly, my peripheral vision caught sight of someone at the edge of the dining hall.

Bethany’s voice, barely above a whisper, broke through my thoughts.

"Elvana, look…" She nodded subtly toward the doorway where Vivienne now stood, her usual confident mask replaced by an expression so unfamiliar it made my heart clench. The way Vivienne’s eyes darted about, scanning the hall with a dark, unreadable intensity, was enough to send a chill down my spine.

Headmistress Grimrose’s voice cut through the silence once more, authoritative and unyielding.

"I have heard enough," she declared, her tone leaving little room for debate.

“All those not directly involved—faculty and students alike—are to leave the dining hall at once.” Her authoritative command pierced the silence of the room.

“Gentlemen, see to it that Miss Sloane, Miss Westcott, and of course Miss Vale are safely escorted to their dormitories as soon as Miss Vale is able to stand." Her intense gaze swept over our small group, and I felt both chastised and strangely protected under her command.

Samael's hand tightened around mine as he rose to support me.

His quiet assurance, though still laced with the urgency of what had transpired, provided a comforting counterpoint to the cold admonition that had just been delivered.

"You’re safe now, little raven," he murmured, his tone soft but resolute, and I could see a flicker of determination behind his dark eyes.

Leander shifted his weight, casting a worried glance toward the exit as if to ensure that none of the curious onlookers would follow too closely. "We'll get you safely back to your dorm," he promised, his voice trembling slightly with the strain of unspoken responsibilities.

I nodded weakly, feeling the remnants of the hex’s chill slowly ebb away, replaced by a fragile warmth sparked by the care of my friends.

The dining hall, once filled with raucous celebration and lively conversation, now lay heavy with the weight of recent events—a mix of relief and suspicion that clung to every shadowed corner.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed as she watched the group begin to disperse.

For a moment, I thought she might step forward, but Headmistress Grimrose’s firm glance at her sent her scurrying into the corridor.

It was as if the Headmistress’s mere presence banished all dissent, reducing even Vivienne’s ferocity to a simmering threat in the distance.

In the ensuing quiet, as the remaining students filed out of the hall, Samael lifted me as though I weighed nothing at all—effortless, cradled against the steady rhythm of his breath.

My body, still aching and foreign from the hex’s aftermath, welcomed the warmth of his touch, the strength in his arms, the unspoken promise in the way he held me.

I let my head fall gently against his chest, the fabric of his silk shirt cool beneath my cheek, the familiar scent of him invoking a pleasant calm throughout my body.

We didn’t speak at first. We didn’t need to.

Our eyes met; fleeting glances laced with meaning I couldn’t yet name.

Beneath the veil of silence, there was a current—of vulnerability, of gratitude, of something dangerously close to longing.

I could feel the tension in his shoulders, not from carrying me, but from something deeper. Something he wasn’t saying.

When we reached the threshold of the corridor, he paused and turned back toward the others. “Leander. Julian. Edric,” he called over his shoulder, his voice quiet, but commanding. “See Lydia and Bethany safely to their dormitory. Stay with them until they’re behind locked doors.”

Leander didn’t argue—none of them did. Julian gave a curt nod, and Edric’s silver eyes lingered on me for a beat too long before he turned to escort the others.

Lydia hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Elle… if you need anything, anything at all, you call for me, alright?” Bethany offered a small, soft smile. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared the life out of us.”

I smiled, weak but sincere. “Thank you. Both of you. Good night.”

“Good night, Elvana,” Lydia said gently. “We’ll talk in the morning.” With that, the trio led the girls out of sight, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Then we were alone. Just me and Samael. The silence between us now felt different—more intimate. He adjusted his grip on me, his arms firm but careful, and began walking again, his long strides steady and purposeful.

“You don’t have to carry me the whole way,” I murmured, though even I could hear the weakness in my voice.

“I do,” he said, too quickly. “You’re still recovering. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Something stirred in my chest at the way he said it—an ache that had nothing to do with magic or wounds.

“I don’t understand how that could happen in the middle of the dining hall,” I said quietly. “With everyone around. I didn’t even feel the hex until it was too late.”

“I do,” he replied, jaw tightening. I felt the tension ripple through him. “And that’s what worries me.”

I looked up, trying to read the thoughts behind his expression.

“You think it was Vivienne?”

Samael hesitated. “I think it was someone who knows you. Someone with access. Someone who wanted to send a message.”

I swallowed. “What message?”

“That you’re not safe,” he said, his voice low. “Not even in the heart of Mystral.”

His eyes met mine again.

“They’re wrong. Because you’re not alone. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A beat passed. The air between us pulsed with the weight of his words.

"You saved me," I said. “That hex… it was tearing me apart from the inside. I felt it in every bone.”

Samael’s gaze softened. “I’ve seen curses like that before. Centuries old, built to bypass wards, bypass resistance. It was crafted to be subtle. Silent. And fatal.”

I shivered, and he instinctively held me closer, as if shielding me from a danger that had already passed.

"You said it was necrotic," I murmured. “That it was meant to consume me.”

He nodded. “Yes. Worse still, it wasn’t meant to kill quickly. Whoever did this wanted to watch you suffer first.” The thought sent a chill down my spine, but even then, I couldn’t look away from him. There was something in the way he held me, the way he looked at me—raw, exposed, almost human.

"I don’t know who I can trust anymore,” I confessed. “Everything feels like it’s unraveling.”

"You can trust me," Samael said, and this time, there was no hesitation. No edge of mystery in his voice. Only truth. "Regardless of whatever else you believe about me—believe that.”

I didn’t respond immediately. I wasn’t sure I could. Though I nestled closer into him, letting that fragile thread of trust tighten just a little more.

As we crossed the Courtyard to the dormitories, the stones cool and silent beneath his boots, he moved with practiced precision, navigating the path as if he’d memorized every turn, every lantern’s flicker.

Samael carried me up the spiral steps in silence, each footfall echoing softly against the stone walls. The world outside was a blur of shadows and whispers, but in his arms,

I felt a cocoon of safety, a sanctuary from the chaos. His grip was firm yet tender, cradling me as though I were something precious, something worth guarding with his life.

When he finally stopped at my door, he didn’t set me down right away. He just stood there, holding me in that quiet space between everything we’d said and everything we hadn’t.

"Are you afraid to let me go?" I asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

His eyes met mine, a mixture of vulnerability and determination swirling within their depths. "Terrified."

In that moment, the fear, the danger, the darkness swirling just beyond the walls—it all fell away, leaving only us, suspended in something fragile and electric. He set me down gently, reluctantly, as though doing so severed something unseen between us.

"I’ll stand guard until dawn," he said, his voice a soft promise in the dim light.

In spite of everything, I found myself believing him.