Page 8 of House of Ydril

Chapter six

IscoffasIfling another useless book at the wall of my room. It’s been three weeks. Three fucking weeks since I first walked into this room and found a bunch of crap that I first believed, no,hopedto be some kind of treasure. Legacy left to me by my parents.

That hope didn’t grow smaller even after I asked around and found out that it was all sent to me using untraceable magic. Not even after I realized that there really is no note, no signature, nothing. But now, now that I’ve gone through it all only to confirm that it’s just a whole shitload of books…

I keep sitting on the floor, throwing daggers at them.

Now, my room is cozy, cozier than any room I’ve ever slept in. The bed looks like it may as well be from the sixteenth century, but the mattress is brand new. There’s a TV hung on the wall opposite to it and I even have my own bathroom. Add to it the view of the overgrown garden from the window behind the armchair and you get everything a girl could ever want in a room.

But it’s small. And the tall piles of books lying around make it so I can’t take two steps without stubbing my toe on one of them.

Of course, that’s not what’s actually pissing me off. I’ve lived in houses with locks on fridge doors and I haven’t been this fussy about it, I reason with myself as I push off the floor. I pick up the innocent albeit shabby volume I just took it all out on. Crouching, I take it in my hand and stroke its silver-embossed title.The Second War of the Elements, it says.

I scoff. If nothing else, I can be sure that none of this was sent to me by anyone I know, even if they did manage to get their hands on powerful, untraceable magic. Lisa would’ve told me when I asked her. Marlene? My boss ain’t got time for anything other than work. And the rest… Well, let’s just say my former foster parents are much better at taking than giving.

I let out a sigh and look out the window. It’s haunted by a lot of bad memories, but I still miss my old life, at least what I made of it after leaving the system. Going for my midnight runs. Doing actual meaningful work instead of attending classes about magic I can’t even use. Going for drinks with Lisa instead of just texting as I waste away alone in my room, no actual connection to anything or anyone in my new ‘home’.

Which also means I’ve no one to help me figure out who the fuck sent me these mystery books.

I stand up and turn on the TV. I throw myself on my bed, deciding to spend the remaining time before the first class of the day distracting myself from everything that’s slowly driving me crazy.

Remote in my hand, I start flicking through channels like crazy. Nothing seems interesting enough to tear my mind away from my ruminations. Until I pause on OTV. It’s one of the human channels dealing exclusively with the Originals. Famous Originals, that is. They couldn’t care less about the regular shifter, vampire or fae.

And of course, who looks at me from the screen? Andreas Faust himself. Or the Dark Prince, as the tabloids like to call him.

I listen to the newswoman reporting on his latest comings and goings. “...seen walking out of the Academy grounds for some fresh air.”

For crying out loud, why are they all so fucking obsessed with him, I think to myself as I squint to take a better look. But the photo they’re showing right now is too grainy, so I pull out my phone to look for images online.

Back in the days of my own obsession, when I still had the posters, sometimes, I’d focus on his lips because they looked like someone took a lot of time sculpting them to perfection. Other times, I’d focus on his hands, especially when the fingers would be caught running through his hair. And from time to time, I’d even take the time to scrutinize his perfectly tailored shirts and waistcoats. He seems to still lovethose.

But these days, more often than not, my eyes stay fixed on his. It’s that look in them that I have to blame for it, the look that left me utterly confused when I found myself standing in front of him for the very first time.

I know people. I’m used to putting together an entire character assessment from the tiniest glimpse of contempt in the corner of the mouth, or the slightest nervous movement when someone’s name is mentioned.

Hegives me nothing. Except for the overwhelming urge to know more, apparently.

One I’m not stupid enough to act on, of course. He’s not just a vampire,

But I honestly don’t mind that it’s powerful enough to help me waste more than enough time before my class starts.

Because, by the time I tear my eyes away from his photos and glance at the clock above my desk, I’m already three minutes late.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s really not okay that you’re doing this to yourself, Quinn, I scold myself as I fling the door open even before I’ve finished pulling my sweater over my head. Professor Gamal hasn’t exactly warmed up to me, even without me disrespecting him like this.

Walking as fast as I can without breaking into a sprint, I nervously fidget with the runes around my neck. By the time I’m barging into the classroom, everyone else is seated, the scrawny Professor Gamal’s voice already scratching at my ears. “Who can tell me which set of Runes is the trickiest to control?”

He barely finishes the sentence before his eyes dart to me trying to sneak into one of the rows of seats facing his pulpit. “Ah, Miss Longborn. Proving that the early bird indeed does catch the worm.”

I fight to keep my face expressionless as I sit down. “I apologize for being late, Professor.”

“Apologies mean little when one has so much to catch up on,” the professor says, referring without a doubt to the fact I haven’t been able to answer any of his questions so far. “Well?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Um,” I start, listing the different types in my mind in search of some logical answer. My hand darts to my own set. “Maybe the Creator’s Runes?”

“Maybe?” the professor repeats after me as he looks at me from under his bushy eyebrows. “Is that the best you can give me?”

“I think it would make sense,” I start, fighting not to get discouraged by the mocking chuckles the other students let out. “I mean, considering that they contain Genesis, the rarest and trickiest of all seven runes.” At least that’s what it said when I looked them up after my ceremony.

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