Page 14 of A Dusk Of Stars

Then again, there’s this overwhelming urge to study him some more. It takes all I have not to indulge it, especially whenever his voice reaches me, switching from serious to joking in a way that makes me wonder what he’s talking about.

While everyone else is moving on, his presence seems to at least be keeping his sycophants enthralled.

It lingers in my mind, the way I reacted when I first locked eyes with him. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

So is this entire day. I mean, gods, the presence inside me.

What the hell wasthat?

I don’t have time to ponder it. Carrel, Nolan and I keep chatting, but now the current of the crowd is taking us straight towards the door into the Dining Hall.

We step inside and I let my eyes sweep over the grandeur.

There’s the sea of students below the podium we’re filing onto, the echo of their chatter tapering off long before it reaches the vaulted ceiling high above. I don’t have to look to know they’re buzzing around the three vertically placed tables, one for each of the three Houses. It all looks so magical — the food on the tables, the chandeliers above everyone’s heads, the tapestries, flags and upholstery all in rich green and gold — the colors of the Academy.

I don’t linger on it. As we approach the professors’ table — the one placed at the edge of the podium to face the students’ — my gaze fixes on my new seat, third to the left from the Pied Piper’s wood-and-bone one.

My lips curl into a smile, the excitement returning with a vengeance.

I see Bane appear in the crowd in front of me, his back turned.

Then my smile slides right off and I stop midstep, this surge of unexpected anger flooding my veins as I watch him pull a chair out and take a seat.

Mychair.

***

Frozen in place, I watch Professor Ahearn take the seat to the newcomer’s left as she tries to keep their conversation going. He cuts her efforts short, seemingly taking a moment to survey the Hall before him.

For a second, I work on shoving the unexpected anger aside, contemplating just taking the empty seat to his right. I sure as hell don’t need any more drama tonight.

Then again, why would it be a thing? There’s still that tension in his body, but it’s so laid-back, the way he’s sitting in my chair. Besides, I’ll only be asking him to switch seats with me.

I start moving straight towards him. I stop right in front of the chair to his right with other faculty members still settling in around us. I see his body tense up and I expect him to turn to me, but he just takes his phone out of his pocket and starts typing. I can't help but notice what beautiful hands he has — big, with long, deft fingers.

I lean a little forward, opening my mouth and finding myself blurting the following out, “Um, sorry, but that’s not your seat.”

Slowly — as if he’s not surprised by my presence — he turns to lock eyes with me. My heart starts pounding, and I spot his nostrils flaring and his features twisting in this pained expression before he smooths them out.

Great, he seems to be one of those who don’t exactly like the human scent. Still, at least he’s polite enough to try not to show it. It feels like an eternity before he finally puts the phone away and says, in a tense, serious voice, “Pity. I like the view from here.”

The confusion makes me squint, but I shrug it off and let out a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” I lilt, “but you see, we have these traditions here. Everyone has their own spot at the table.”

He quirks an eyebrow. Gods, the eyes. I watch him glance at the chair below him. “Ah, so it’syourseat that I’m taking?” he asks. There’s still tension in his voice, but it’s a little softer now.

I squint at him. Then I smile. “It doesn’t matter whose it is, it’s not yours.”

A corner of his lips tugs into a slight smirk. “I’m sure I’ll find a way around that,” he says and then pulls the chair in front of me out a little, motioning for me to take a seat.

I laugh. “You know, this isn’t one of those things you can justbuy.”

“I believe that’s what they say about love, not chairs,” he snaps flatly.

“Love is overrated, chairs are not,” I snap back.

He blows a soft laugh through his nose, his eyes zeroing in on me. Then he leans back in my seat, stretching a little and splaying his legs. “I’m starting to see your point.”

I just look at him for a second, my eyes narrowing. I open my mouth to directly tell him to switch seats with me and be done with it, but it’s at that very moment that the Dining Hall goes silent.

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