Page 63

Where the Stars Bear Witness

W e moved together through the dance—his steps measured, mine a beat behind, like we were made to follow this rhythm. Around us, laughter and magic shimmered in the air, but it all faded into something quieter. Something intimate.

His lips brushed near my ear. “Do you want to sneak away?”

I blinked. “What?”

He leaned back just enough to meet my eyes, and the look in his made my breath catch.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Somewhere quiet. Away from all—this.”

I hesitated only a heartbeat, then nodded.

“All right.”

We slipped from the dance floor together, weaving through the gathering with practiced ease. At the great doors, Professor Maximort stood like a fortress—tall, grim, and impervious in his perfectly pressed robes, his wild eyebrows twitching as he scanned the crowd for signs of mischief.

Samael didn’t slow. He approached with a polite nod, his tone crisp and smooth.

“Professor Maximort. I’m escorting Miss Vale to the lavatories.”

Maximort gave us both a brief once-over, unimpressed but unbothered.

“Five minutes.”

“Ten,” Samael countered with the faintest smile. “She is wearing heels.”

I stifled a laugh behind my hand as the professor waved us past with a grunt, already turning to reprimand a pair of third-years trying to smuggle out extra champagne.

The hallway outside the ballroom was dimmer, quieter. The festive sounds dulled behind the heavy oak doors.

Here, the magic of the ball was still present but stretched thin—replaced by candle sconces and the distant echo of patrolling armor.

Samael moved beside me, his pace quickening as the sound of clanking metal grew louder.

“Enchanted suits of armor are patrolling the first floor tonight,” he said under his breath, guiding me toward the shadows of a tall column. “They’re designed to detect malicious intent—powerful wards, dark spells, that sort of thing; but they’ll still stop you for breaking curfew.”

We peeked around the corner.

A towering suit of steel marched past on gleaming sabatons, a halberd clutched in one iron fist, its visor glowing faintly blue.

“They’re mostly harmless,” Samael whispered. “Though not very good at conversation.”

I smirked. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Make it to the grand staircase. Once we’re on the upper levels, we’re out of their jurisdiction.”

“That sounds suspiciously rehearsed.”

He gave me a sideways glance, his grin all sharp charm. “Let’s just say I’m well versed in remaining unseen.”

We moved in sync, darting between columns and slipping down the side corridors. Every time one of the enchanted suits passed, we paused—flattening against cold stone or ducking into alcoves, holding our breath like children sneaking sweets past curfew.

Once, we nearly collided with a pair of fourth-years trying to make their own exit, but they saw Samael’s expression and veered off in the opposite direction without a word.

Finally, we reached the base of the grand staircase—a sweeping spiral of marble and gilded railings that wound up into the darker floors of the castle. No guards. No footsteps. Just silence and shadows.

“Come on,” Samael whispered, tugging my hand.

We climbed together, careful and quick. The air grew cooler as we ascended, and the candlelight dimmed behind us until only moonlight, through tall narrow windows, lit our way.

At the top, he pulled me gently into one of the upper corridors.

It was quieter here—emptier. The high arched ceiling stretched overhead like the nave of a cathedral, and the stained-glass windows spilled colored moonlight across the floor in soft pools.

I laughed under my breath, the tension melting into something warmer. “Where are you taking me?”

Samael looked back at me, and the mischief in his eyes was replaced with something deeper. Something quiet and sincere.

“I want to show you something.”

So, I let him.

Because in that moment—with my pulse steady and the castle asleep beneath us—I would have followed him anywhere.

We moved silently through the upper halls, the castle humming beneath our feet like a sleeping beast. The higher floors always felt older somehow—less polished, less watched. It was the part of the Academy where magic didn’t just exist—it lingered.

Samael led us through a narrow corridor tucked behind a tapestry of the first Headmistress, her embroidered eyes glinting with subtle disapproval as we passed.

At the end of the hall stood the door to the Divination Tower—circular and ancient, its wood blackened with age and carved with the runes of far-seeing. A faint shimmer of wards glowed across its surface.

Samael didn’t hesitate. He lifted his hand and murmured a low, smooth incantation. I recognized only part of it— Fractura Sigillum. The lock gave a soft click, and the door creaked open as though sighing in surrender.

We stepped inside.

The divination classroom was breathtaking under the night sky.

The tall, domed ceiling arched above a crystal skylight, revealing a clear night sky dusted with stars. Dozens of scrying orbs hovered in the air like suspended planets, each one glowing with soft light.

Samael turned to me in the silence, his hands finding my waist. He lifted me effortlessly, seating me on the round table in the center of the room like I weighed nothing at all. The cold wood pressed against the backs of my thighs through my gown, but I barely noticed.

He stepped between my knees, the heat of his body anchoring me.

His hands cupped my face as he leaned in and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed.

Then he pulled back, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat.

“I wanted something that would help protect you when—if—I wasn’t able to,” he said quietly, “but I didn’t want to give it to you until it was the right moment.”

From his pocket, he withdrew a blood-red velvet box, its surface glinting in the low light.

He opened it slowly.

Inside lay a ring like nothing I had ever seen.

It was crafted from moon-silver and obsidian—intertwined in fluid, delicate arcs that danced like flame frozen mid-motion. Set into the center of the band was a gemstone: a faceted garnet, the color of deep wine, glowing faintly with inner light.

A single, whisper-thin chain extended from the ring, curving gracefully up and around to connect to an elegant cuff meant to rest on the wrist—its design echoing crescent moons and runes too ancient to decipher at first glance.

It wasn’t just beautiful. It was alive.

I reached out with trembling fingers, brushing the surface of the garnet.

“It’s enchanted,” Samael said, watching my expression carefully.

“The stone is bound to a spell of warding. The chain is woven with charm runes—it’ll shield your mind against unwanted intrusion. Not forever,” he added with a small smile, “but long enough to keep you safe when you need it most. It acts similar to a mental shield.”

My throat tightened. “You made this?”

Samael shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “No. I saw it in the enchanted trinket shop in Mistholm—the one we all wandered into.” He hesitated, then added, “The moment I saw it, I thought of you. I almost didn’t buy it. It felt—too much, but I couldn’t walk away.”

His thumb brushed lightly along the edge of the velvet box. “I asked the shopkeeper about the enchantments. He said it was immensely powerful. Created by a mage who hasn’t sold anything in years. The kind of thing that chooses its owner.”

My heartbeat stuttered.

I reached out with both hands, and he gently took them.

With slow, deliberate care, he slipped the ring onto my finger, the cool metal settling there like it had been waiting.

The chain unfurled elegantly, curving over the back of my hand like liquid silver before he fastened the delicate cuff around my wrist.

It shimmered under the moonlight pouring through the skylight above us—beautiful, intricate, almost otherworldly. The garnet at its center glowed faintly, as if recognizing me.

It felt like a promise.

Like something intimate and unspoken, bound not just by enchantment, but by intent.

I stared down at the way the chain stretched over my hand, delicate as moonlight, how the garnet pulsed once—subtle and warm—as if reacting to my heartbeat.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My voice came out smaller than I intended, but it carried everything I felt. Awe. Gratitude. The ache of being seen.

Samael’s gaze searched mine, quiet and serious. No smug grin or half-sarcastic remark. Just—sincerity.

“Thank you,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” His voice was steady, but there was something fraying around the edges. “You have no idea how hard it is for me not to want more when I’m around you.”

My pulse stuttered.

The words hit like a spell—delicate but consuming, curling through me in waves. I stepped forward, closing the last of the space between us, my hand still holding his.

Then I pulled him into me and kissed him.

Not carefully. Not shyly. Not like I had something to lose.

This kiss was different. Urgent. Fierce.

His mouth met mine with hunger, his hands tightening around my waist, then roaming higher—splayed along my back, tugging me closer until I was pressed fully against him. My fingers tangled into the open collar of his shirt, sliding across warm skin and the faint ridges of muscle beneath.

He let out a sound—half growl, half breath—as I leaned deeper, wrapping my legs around his hips as he stood between them.

The kiss turned hot, frenzied. His hands found the small of my back, then lower, pulling me toward the edge of the table, holding me there like he never wanted to let go. His lips traced a path from my mouth down my neck, lingering just beneath my jaw, and I gasped as his teeth grazed skin.

“You haunt me,” he said, barely a breath between you. “Every glance, every word—you're under my skin and I can’t shake you.”