Page 18 of Self Studies

I balled my hands into fists and glanced at Ram. Brown curls framed his pale oval face. A sprinkling of freckles should have given him charm, but the knowing smirk on his thin lips destroyed the illusion. Muddy yellow rims accent his brown eyes.

I started shaking. Damon died. The only good thing to come out of it was my new freedom, but this didn’t feel like freedom. I watched Advisor Crow move back around to his desk. His eyes never left me as he sat. Ram hadn’t backed off. He pressed against my shoulder, physically moving me closer to the food.

I flinched back, but his steel grip didn’t budge. An amused glint flitted across his face.

“Ram,” Advisor Crowe said sweetly. “Back up.”

Obediently, Ram’s meaty frame left my personal space. My thoughts fought against each other. I existed to serve my master’s every need. He’d told me the world without him was cruel. And it was. My roommates were awful. My fellow students had been cold, many of them laughing at me, I suspected. Even the teachers hadn’t given me a smidge of help.

But in a lot of ways, he’d been wrong. Sapphire-eyes’ humor-filled gaze flitted through my memory. Alice’s kindness. A stranger left me food. Professor Garnet embraced his pain rather than used me. Even that kid gave me a cloth to counteract whatever landed on my face.

I might not be as special as Damon made me believe. Naïve, awkward, and clueless were all words I’d heard whispered multiple times today. All of them were probably true. But I wasn’t stupid. Or at least I hoped I wasn’t stupid.

My shoulders straightened. I gripped the bottom of the hoodie and pulled it as far down as it could go. “I’m not looking for a new master.” As the words left my mouth, my thoughts filled with doubt, but I didn’t take it back.

“That’s good. Those types of situations are illegal,” Advisor Crowe said with a smile. “I want you to trust me. I want to give you your confidence back. You’re an uncut diamond, Aphrodite. I’m simply watching out for you. The Charbon Institute only has a fifty percent survival rate. I don’t want you to be on the wrong side of that. If you want to leave your hoodie on, that is fine. The food’s yours.”

I eyed him. “Do I need to eat it here?”

Advisor Crowe’s face fell. He pursed his lips. “No, of course not. If eating elsewhere will make you more comfortable, by all means.” He sat back in his chair. “My only aim is to toughen your skin. This institute will constantly be testing you, judging your reactions to see if you’ve become a better person. You’ve lived such a sheltered life; I fear for you. I’m your friend. I want to help you.”

He paused, waiting for my reaction, but I didn’t have one. All of this was too much. What even was a better person?

“Your paperwork’s being held up by the MA,” he continued. “The people that ruined your life. I will keep you updated as best I can.”

Not knowing what else to do, I reached forward to slide the note excusing me from class off the table and into the big pocket of my hoodie. I made sure I had both men in my vision as I picked up the plate.

Slowly, I backed out of the room. Ram opened the door for me before moving away from it and back into my field of view. I didn’t take my eyes off the two until I was in the middle of the hall. I gave my advisor another hard look before spinning on my heels and high-tailing it out of there.

I looked up as someone side-stepped to avoid running into me. Professor Garnet’s bushy eyebrows furrowed, but I didn’t stop.

The moment I spied a door that went outside, I took it. Sunlight kissed what little of my skin it could find. Sitting against the warm stone wall, I inhaled my meal without tasting it.

Advisor Crowe wanted something from me. Was it paperwork holding up my uniform and book lists? My very ability to eat? Or was it something else? He’d seemed so genuine at the end as if he’d not realized how uncomfortable he’d made me. If he meant to use me, he wouldn’t have let me take the food. Unless this had been a big lesson in trust so he could help me learn what the right choices were.

I wanted to scream.

‘The only good thing about the MA is their size, my Aphrodite. When things grow too big, they become less effective. That’s why we must stay small. Potions, runes, the occasional client. Like you did as a baby, we’ll fall through the cracks of their political machine.’

He’d always giggled and looked at me as he said that. I never understood why it was so funny. And I didn’t understand it any better now.

* * *

Intro to Herbology, which I never returned to, was followed by lunch.

With a full stomach and a new thirst for knowledge, I spent the time in the library reading about the Institute. It had been founded soon after the magical blast that changed the world. The building itself was Romanian. The gothic castle had been dismantled, transported here, and reassembled by some wealthy family who later lost their money and had to sell to the banks. That’s how the MA got it. The author described, in great detail, how they utilized both magic and technology to retrofit the building to suit the remote Alaskan tundra. I found myself skimming names and logistics, looking for something more.

I didn’t care about the building; I wanted to understand what was going on inside of it. Time flew by, and once again, the tritone of time got my heart racing.

After replacing the book on the shelf, I glided into the sea of students, honestly excited for my first class of the afternoon, Alchemy. One of the only things I truly loved. Like meditation and runes, I’d been mixing potions before I could walk.

The alchemy department took up an entire wing of the Institute. I slowed my steps, marveling at the colorful quilts lining the stone walls. A few framed beakers, books, and board games peeked out between overlapping shelving in the busy texture.

I’d still not reached the alchemy lab when the foghorn blared. Tearing my gaze away from the distracting walls, I jogged the last few feet to the end of the hall. I struggled to pull the big door open. When I managed, what few voices had been talking stopped, every person noted my entrance. I shrank into my hoodie.

The largest classroom yet, rows and columns of thick, heavy, free standing tables took up the middle with three students at each table. They already had their books out and opened, along with a collection of beakers and a few portable stovetops. I swallowed and eyed the vaulted ceiling that arched above me.

“No one, especially a new pink slip, may be late to my class.” A dry woman’s voice echoed in the space, dragging my attention to the front of the room.

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