Page 32 of Nidev and Lyric

The Veil and the Voice– Benedict Calloway

Page 42, first paragraph (copied)

Possible meaning: ???

She underlined the question marks three times.

She checked her phone for any new messages. Particularly the time she was supposed to report to him in the evening. It was so unlike any of the Kings to give assignments without every single detail regarding it.

A sudden fight-or-flight reflex hit her bloodstream so hard it made her dizzy.

She took in several slow breaths, closing her eyes.He’s Nidev. He’s always taken care of me. He’s always been a friend. He’s always protected me.

I trust him.

****

Lyric stood before the mirror, a curl-pick in one hand, her notebook in the other. Her pulse thrummed beneath her skin as she fluffed her curls, flipping to the page she’d filled with scribbled attempts at unraveling Nidev’s test.

She exhaled slowly, tilting her head as she met her own eyes in the glass. What the hell was the lesson here?

Her gaze dropped to the three possible answers she’d written. Submission is felt before it’s understood. Maybe he’s trying to teach me that I don’t need to know where he’s leading me—I just need to follow.

Power isn’t about truth—it’s about belief.Maybe he’s showing me that reality isn’t what’s real, it’s what he decides is real. And what I believe is real.

The way he tells me to do something matters more than what he tells me to do.Was this about obedience? Was the test about whether I’d follow his command without question and not about the book at all?

She bit her lip, chewing lightly as she reached for her lipstick, her mind moving to other critical things like what hewanted her to wear tonight. He hadn’t said. Did he want her sexy? Or still in her uniform, his perfect little student?

Mr. Nidev.

Her breath trembled at the memory of saying it, of the way it had slid from her lips, how it had felt to say it. She liked calling him that. She liked how filthy it made her feel, like a bad girl in a secret game.

Her thighs clenched as she smoothed out her skirt, eyeing herself critically. She’d applied a little gloss, kept her makeup light. Just enough to look presentable. Innocent.

Her nails tapped against the notebook. Which answer? She’d rehearsed all three in the mirror, whispering them, testing the way they felt on her tongue.

What would her King do if she got it right? What would her Dominus do if she got it wrong? The thoughts sent an electric thrill racing up her spine.

Her phone vibrated against the bathroom counter and she froze. Her stomach flipped as she reached for it.

Nidev.

She swallowed, unlocking the screen with a quick swipe.

Nidev:Come now.

Oh God, this is it. This. Is. It.

She grabbed her backpack, shoving her notebook inside. She was still in her uniform and was glad the choice was practically made for her. She hoped it was right.

****

Lyric hesitated outside the door, tugging at the hem of her skirt, second guessing everything. Too short? Too long? Too much? Not enough?

She quickly undid the top two buttons and smashed her lips together. The gloss was for looking soft. Eager. Like she wanted to be corrected.

She forced herself to knock and the second she did, panic flooded in. Oh God, what was she doing, she should’ve worn something else, something that didn’t scream fuck me, Mr. Nidev, I’m desperate and weak--he didnotlike weakordesperate people!

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