I turn my head toward the voice. He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I force a smile back, stretching my lips into something that barely passes for friendly.
"Zeythria, I wanted to introduce you to someone."
The air in my lungs snags, refusing to move. I glance behind him, and no one. My gaze darts around. Empty. No one in our radius. I manage to drag in a breath and lift a brow at him.
He notices my wandering eyes, his smile faltering as he turns, finding nothing but air.
"He was just here..." Thar's voice dips with confusion. "I swear."
I widen my smile, letting it tug at my lips, my eyes never leaving his.
"Who was just here, Thar?" I ask, feigning curiosity.
The way his breath hitches when I smile doesn't go unnoticed.
"Draevon. My cousin."
My smile stiffens, an involuntary flicker. My brow tightens for half a heartbeat. How did I not notice him? He was right there…
But it's only a matter of time before we properly meet.
I school my expression, turning that almost-frown into something softer.
"I'm sure we'll cross paths soon enough."
His grin returns, nodding eagerly.
"Let me help with your bag."
I blink, a laugh catching awkwardly in my throat.
"No, it's fine."
But he holds my gaze, something intense flickering behind those sea-glass eyes.
"Really. Let me."
I shake my head quickly. "It's not heavy."
I couldn't let him touch it. Not with what was inside. I didn't even know what kind of abilities he truly had, what if he could sense something, or see through things, or worse?
He reaches for my bag, and my stomach twists. I can't let him
The strap slips from my hand. His fingers close around the handle, never brushing the fabric itself. Relief floods me, but it's sharp and bitter. Too close.
I plaster a smile onto my face, pretending it doesn't matter, pretending I don't feel his gaze lingering on me like a weight.
"It's fine, really," I murmur.
He studies me for a beat too long, then shrugs, casually slinging the bag over his shoulder like it's nothing more than dead weight.
He didn't touch the fabric. He couldn't have sensed anything. It's fine. It's fine.
"Shall we?"
I don't wait for his answer. My boots scrape against the stone as I stride ahead, the echo of his footsteps following too close behind.
Several minutes later.
The faint, musty scent of old books fills my nose as my feet step onto the smooth, cold marble floor of the academy's halls. The polished surface reflects pale light from lanterns mounted high on the walls, their flames flickering, casting dancing shadows that seem to move with a life of their own. Thar falls into step beside me. My eyes dart around, landing on the clock mounted near the classroom door.
5 MINUTES.
I flick my gaze back to Thar's.
"Thank you for helping me, Thar. Hope it wasn't stressful for you," I say, forcing a casual tone.
I press a finger to my lips. He leans in closer as I lean back, seeing his face carefully, a strand of his hair swishing across his face, his cyan eyes locking onto mine. I glance at the clock behind him.
4 MINUTES.
"Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?" he states quietly but loud enough for me to hear clearly.
The question catches me off guard. My gaze drops to his hand as he lifts my bag by the handle, careful, deliberate, never touching the fabric. He places it gently on my desk, almost like it's fragile.
The moment it's down, I yank it towards me, heart pounding. Too close.
I swallow. "About what?"
3 MINUTES.
He smiles, an easy, amused curl of his lips. "I've always been curious about the Mondalines. I mean, how do they survive without any form of power?"
My stomach knots up. I hadn't properly made up a cover story for my supposed ability yet.
"We… we learn to survive," I answer carefully. "They may not have powers, but we have strength. And we can fight."
His expression goes blank, eyes narrowing for a moment, but then he bursts into a loud, sharp laughter, echoing in the quiet room, leaving me stunned and lost for a beat.
"Ah! Is that why they're so strong-willed, despite being the weaker ones?"
His laugh sends a chill through my spine. I instinctively step back, biting down on my lower lip until I taste blood. My fists clench. My eyes narrow, pupils shrinking.
I lock my gaze onto his.
His grin falters, then vanishes entirely.
"Pardon me," he says, chuckling awkwardly. "It was just… unexpected. In a city of lowlifes."
"Is that what you believe?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, eyes sharp.
He shrugs. "I mean… Draevon had a hard time down there. Maybe they're underestimated."
1 MINUTE.
My muscles tense. What would Draevon be doing in Mondaline?
"Did he suffer any injuries?"
Thar raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Just curious," I add quickly.
He waves a hand. "Just a scratch. A stab wound on his palm. Don't worry, the guy got burned to ashes."
He says it like it's nothing.
10 SECONDS.
I shake my head slightly. "Why was he attacked?"
He leans lazily against the desk, meeting my eyes.
5 SECONDS.
He doesn't answer.
3 SECONDS.
"Well-"
2 SECONDS.
"How did-"
1 SECOND.
"You-"
THE BELL RINGS.
The classroom doors burst open as students rush in, their chatter and footsteps filling the once-silent classroom.
Thar grins, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"It's always this strict. You'll get used to it," he says, winking.
I tilt my head, watching the way the cool light catches in his cyan eyes, bright, sharp, unreadable. I force a small smile, unsure of how to respond to a look like that.
I look away, and suddenly my chest tightens painfully. My pulse spikes, adrenaline flooding my veins.
His presence. I can feel it.