Page 22 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty (The Legacy of Aquila Hall #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DOROTHEE

After spending the rest of the Halloween night with Jesse in the ominous library, I buried myself in bed under my duvet for all of Sunday. I continued to switch between my bed and the bathroom floor.

On the morning of November first, I emptied whatever was left in the pit of my stomach into the toilet, puking my guts out. Processing everything had been manageable until I started questioning it all after I came down from my adrenaline high. The memories sharpened, and I vividly recalled reliving Gwyneth’s death. How she had tried to kill me and used my trust against me.

Adding to that, I hadn’t slept for the past two nights. Every time I thought about the possibility of dying by the end of the school year, my heart raced. Strangely enough, I felt a spark of happiness stir inside me. Finally, there was something to look forward to. I knew that if our research failed, I might end up six feet under, but as crazy as it sounded, I felt like I finally belonged somewhere. I couldn’t wait to uncover all the secrets the woman I was named after had kept hidden in her heart.

“Miss De Loughrey, could you repeat what I just said?”

That was, of course, assuming I survived history class with Professor Kane.

I straightened my spine and looked at the blackboard behind him. It was freshly cleaned, giving me no clues about the topic.

“I apologize, Professor. I wasn’t listening.”

Professor Kane pushed off the desk he had been leaning on and approached my desk. He glanced at my empty notes and sighed.

“I noticed. I said that in three weeks, we’ll visit the Catholic Church in Owley, where Pastor Richard has offered us access to the church’s documentation from the trials.” His dark eyes burned with disappointment as he recounted his words. “I want to have a word with you after class,” he added before turning back to the front of the room.

After such a hellish weekend, the first reward was detention. Wonderful.

I made every effort to participate during the remaining ten minutes of class, but Professor Kane ignored my raised hand every time until the bell rang.

When Maisie walked past my desk as class ended, she whispered, “we’ll be waiting for you.”

I packed my bag and waited until everyone else had left the room, bracing myself for Professor Kane to assign detention or an extra assignment. He was strict and never let anything slide. In fact, he seemed to enjoy wiping smiles off students’ faces. Despite this, he was an excellent teacher. His explanations were engaging, and his strict methods pushed students to master even the most difficult topics.

“Got a lot on your mind lately?” he asked.

I frowned and clutched my papers to my chest, expecting my detention date. “What do you mean, Professor?”

Kane leaned back in his chair and propped his legs on the desk. Though strict with us, he didn’t seem to follow his own rules.

“You’re a good student, Miss De Loughrey,” he said. “I hate to admit it, but you’re probably one of the most enthusiastic students I’ve had in years. You notice things that others overlook.”

I was surprised by his words. I knew I was good at history, it was my favourite subject—but I hadn’t expected him to acknowledge it.

“Thank you, Professor…?” I replied hesitantly, the words sounding more like a question.

“I won’t give you detention for zoning out in class because I know it won’t affect your grades. But if it happens again, you will face detention. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

I hurried out of the classroom before he could change his mind.

“Detention?” Maisie asked as soon as she saw me.

“Nope,” I said with a proud smile. “He said I was an enthusiastic student and let me off the hook this time.”

As we headed to Latin class, Nathaniel, with his arm draped around Maisie’s shoulders, scoffed, “don’t get too comfortable. He did the same with Naomi last year, and the next time she was late, she got three days of detention in a row.”

Naomi and the others weren’t in Kane’s class this year. The history class was so large that the students had to be split, with Professor Wadsworth teaching the other group. From what I’d heard, Wadsworth’s classes were easy and boring. As tough as Kane was, I was glad to be in his class.

“I’ll be careful,” I assured them as we entered the Latin classroom.

The day has been exhausting so far, and it was only three in the afternoon. The first two classes were fine, but the rest were utterly draining. My mind felt all over the place, unable to focus on anything, and every piece of information seemed to slip away as soon as it entered.

With exams approaching, I didn’t have time to dissociate.

I stared down at my notes, trying to tune out the noise of younger students running and screaming in the hallways during their break.

Jewels melted ivory

Gift of peace born in rivalry

Cradled in the palms of the star’s blood.

The cryptic words Maisie’s grandmother had left us were baffling. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had a clue about what they meant.

On Sunday, when I was still buried under my blankets, Maisie had brought stolen chocolate croissants to cheer me up. We spent hours talking about the future, the sight, and everything in between. She apologised repeatedly for dumping so much on me during Halloween and explained why she had been afraid to involve me all these weeks. After hearing her out, I forgave her.

An icy wind brushed against my skin, pulling my attention to the window.

Down on the campus grounds, a familiar figure with jet-black hair walked toward the stables. He wore tight black trousers, a turtleneck, and tall boots. Even from behind, I could tell he looked good.

Archer.

At Aquila, his sport was riding. Since the school’s previous riding instructor was still recovering from an injury, Archer had temporarily taken over the role in exchange for extra college application credits. Naomi had once caught me watching him like this and found it hilarious. I, however, was mortified by that.

Through the stable’s small window, I saw Archer stroking the glossy coat of his black horse. He seemed so gentle with the animal. It was an odd but captivating sight.

“Do you have an interest in the sport of riding?”

The voice startled me. I flinched, caught mid-stalk, and my cheeks burned.

Quickly, I shut my notebook and turned toward the familiar voice. Around a metre away from me stood Chadwick, his papers in hand and an amused smile on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Dorothee,” he said politely.

I managed a nervous smile, desperately hoping he hadn’t noticed my peculiar notes–or that my attention had been on the boy in the stables rather than the horses themselves.

“No need to apologise, I was just caught off guard,” I said, pulling my legs off the wide windowsill and sitting up straight.

“You once mentioned your love for animals. Maybe you should think about joining Mister Kingstone in the stables?” Chadwick continued, after nearly making me jump out of my skin. For a split second, I thought he might be another ghost, ready to push me out the third-floor window.

“Aquila, unfortunately, only provides contact with animals in the stables through the horses,” he went on, his tone lighter. “That would be your only opportunity to be near any animals, unless, of course, you count the occasional deer crossing your path in the woods on their desperate quest to find Snow White,” he joked.

I couldn’t help but snort at the imagery.

Chadwick had strangely grown on me, and although I knew it was inappropriate, he felt more like an older friend than my psychologist when we talked. It was refreshing to speak openly with someone who understood my perspective without brushing me off as a na?ve child.

Coming to Aquila Hall had answered so many of my questions, but it had also gifted me Anwir Chadwick, who was unlike any psychologist I had encountered before. His sessions were informal, yet deeply impactful. I almost wanted to go back to meeting him three times a week, sitting with tea and my favourite cookies as he listened and offered advice.

Unlike others in his profession, Chadwick didn’t intimidate me by taking notes or analysing me with a piercing, clinical gaze. Occasionally, he’d even share snippets of his own life.

He wasn’t married and had no children, which wasn’t surprising given he was only twenty-seven. He’d confessed to loving psychology ever since he was a student at Aquila, which he attended on a scholarship at fourteen. That opportunity had later secured him a place at Cambridge, thanks to his astronomical academic performance.

One thing I’d noticed about him, even without him mentioning it, was his obsession with neatness. Everything about him and his surroundings had to be impeccable, his office, his attire, even his perfectly groomed black hair.

I tried to refocus on our conversation, realising I had spaced out again. “I don’t think riding would be for me. Besides, I’ve already decided to join archery,” I said.

When it came to choosing a sport, badminton had been Maisie’s suggestion, but it wasn’t for me. Archery had always fascinated me, ever since my grandmother told me stories about a legendary archer when I was a child. Picking it felt like a way to honour her tales. And to push myself out of my comfort zone.

Chadwick smiled and nodded. “Ah, yes, you’re right. I’d forgotten you’d already chosen your sport.”

His lack of urgency told me he wasn’t here by chance, and I decided to get straight to the point. “What is it?” I asked innocently, hoping whatever he needed wouldn’t take too long. I still hadn’t worked up the courage to approach Archer about our planned lesson, and time was slipping right through my fingers.

“During lunch, I spoke with a few of your professors,” Chadwick began, his tone soft but concerned. “They mentioned you’ve been different today—quieter than usual. You’re not typically shy in class, and I just wanted to check in. Is everything all right?”

His concern made me feel small, but I pushed back the guilt. “No—I mean, nothing happened that made me go quiet again. It’s just been a bad day. I’m still recovering from Halloween, a good but exhausting night, and the number of exams we have before Christmas is making me a little nervous,” I lied.

It wasn’t entirely false. The looming exams were daunting. But I wasn’t about to spill everything about my real worries. Not to Chadwick, not to anyone.

He didn’t seem entirely convinced but nodded gently. “Exams can be stressful, but try not to let the fear of failure weigh on you too much. With your love of learning, I’m confident you’ll do well.”

He turned his wrist to check the time before meeting my gaze again. I stood up, feigning a sense of urgency. “Thank you so much for your kind words. I think I’m already feeling a little less frightened,” I said with a light laugh, grabbing my backpack. “And thank you for checking in on me. I'm actually excited. My grandmother is calling me tonight, and I’m meeting with a friend who’s helping me with a subject I’ve been struggling with.”

One of those statements was a lie. I had called Archer my friend, and I was sure that if he had been present to hear it, he would have grimaced.

Even though he had saved my life twice, calling him anything more than a classmate—or perhaps a friend of a friend—felt strange. I wanted to get to know him better, to figure out why I was so inexplicably drawn to him. But his demeanour made it nearly impossible. Just the other day, I’d seen him laugh at something Jesse had said, but the moment he noticed me standing in the doorway, his expression turned cold, retreating behind that infuriatingly stoic mask of his.

Chadwick nodded, his usual kind smile never wavering. “I hope your grandmother is well. And good luck with your studies. You know my email address, and you know where to find me. If you ever need someone to listen, I’m always here.”

“Thank you,” I replied sweetly, making an effort to sound as calm and collected as possible.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Chadwick said, stepping aside to let me pass. Then he turned on his heel and walked toward the west wing, where most of the classrooms were.

Without a second thought, I jogged down the marble stairs, hoping to catch my ghost tutor, though I definitely needed to come up with a better nickname for him, before he disappeared into the stables. If he took off on his horse again, I’d lose another day of precious learning and progress. Which is a hard no for me.