Page 13 of A Dusk Of Stars

I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe now the effects of all that magic will finally wear off. I lean against the tapestry, lift the sole of my boot onto the wall under its edge and take the very first sip of the drink in my hand and turn my attention onto my colleagues.

It makes my eyebrows shoot up, when I realize they’re searching the web for info on Bane.

Then again, it’s with a comment about him that I interrupt them, so who am I to talk? “He doesn’t exactly strike me as a businessman,” I say.

Without looking up from his phone, Carrel says, “He’s ex-military. Then he went into the sportsbooks business and expanded the empire from there.”

Ex-military? It does sound like an actual qualification at least, but… “Yeah, he doesn’t exactly strike me as a soldier either,” I protest, but it feels stupid admitting it’s because of the movie-star quality.

Nolan shrugs and Carrel just shoots me a confused look.

It’s at that moment that Nolan’s phone pings, he checks the message and then looks up at us with a victorious smile on his face, motioning at Professor Ahearn, one of the Academy’s most prolific gossips. “I know why it was him they hired.”

We both nudge him to go on.

“He’s here to teach Finn.”

“Finn who?” I ask with a frown.

Nolan smiles with a spark in his eyes. “The hopeless son of King Brennan.”

“So it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” I say with a shrug, “and he’s here on some kind of duty. Sounds better than I thought it would be.”

Nolan looks at me like I’m crazy. “This is an obscenely rich man who’s so in cahoots with the elite that kings are arranging hard-to-get positions at famous Academies for him to teach their sons.” He frowns. “In short, he’s someone who doesn’t need to care what others think of him.”

“Yeah, and he’ll be influencing an entire generation of our shifters,” Carrel adds with vigor.

It’s not like I don’t agree. Still, all this hostility is flooding my mouth with bitterness, and it’s bothering me that everyone’smaking this whole evening about the newcomer, especially because I myself have to fight the urge to stare at him.

“So will Professors Ahearn, O’Connor and MacArthur,” I argue. “But not if they’re all focusing on sharpening their pitchforks instead of teaching the students.”

Nolan squints at me. “I thought you’d be the first to pull out the protest signs.”

“If we’re protesting his business,” I say with a frown, “sure, I already have some lying around. But I’m not too eager to start vying for someone getting fired before I actually see them in action.”

Before I can respond, Carrel leans a little forward with a look of surprise in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you did it. You’re taking the Archivist seat.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Nolan says with a knowing smile.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I demand.

“With you playing politics all of a sudden?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d say it’s goteverythingto do with it.”

“It’s not a political role.”

“Not much of a role in general,” Carrel snaps.

“Beats having to scrape gum off the desks in the Library,” I quip with a grin.

They both laugh and Carrel changes the subject. I keep chatting with the two of them about this and that, but I’m tense, my mind lingering on the comment about my new role.

What snaps me out of it is this feeling of being watched. I let my gaze sweep over the crowd, making sure it doesn’t linger on Bane.

I expel a pent-up breath and take another sip of my drink. I guess I should’ve known it would be this way — that the Archivist role would lose all respectability as soon as 'the Scion' took it on. Still, it stings, just like it does whenever I achieve something only for everyone to act as if it’s nothing.

Gods, I can’t wait for this night to be over. Not even the honor of having the Pied Piper introduce me as the Archivist seems to be something to look forward to.

Something nudges me to look to my left, my eyes locking with Bane’s for a brief moment before I tear them away, refusing to keep making tonight all about some ‘random man’, as Lorcan put it so nicely.

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