Page 78 of Tempest Blazing
"Breathe, Tess," I muttered under my breath, adjusting my satchel strap. "One crisis at a time."
Anya materialized beside me, her violet eyes glinting with mischief that somehow managed to be both reassuring and slightly terrifying. "If they ask anything about necro-politics in the pre-Guild era, I'm raising an army of skeletal scribes to protest," she announced, her voice carrying just enough dark promise to make me believe her.
I snorted, grateful for the distraction. "Please don't hex our instructors before we even get our results."
"I make no promises," she replied with a sweet smile that would have looked innocent on anyone else. On Anya, it was downright ominous.
Draven's low chuckle drew my attention to where he lounged against the doorframe as if he'd already passed and was just here for entertainment. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked between us. "I was promised chaos, not standardized assessments," he drawled, somehow managing to make even his complaint sound seductive.
"The day's still young," I shot back, and his grin widened.
Despite the anxiety clawing at my chest, I felt myself breathing easier. Even Raze's breezy arrival—hood half up, signature grin wide enough to power the Guild's lighting—helped settle my nerves. He dropped into our little cluster with the easy confidence of someone who'd never met a test he couldn't charm his way through.
"Ready to show these instructors how it's done?" he asked, bumping my shoulder with his.
The question hit something raw in my chest. Ready? I had to be ready. There was no other choice. For a moment, surrounded by this chaotic family I'd somehow collected, I almost forgot the pressure. Almost. But then the doors creaked open with the sound of ancient hinges, and reality slammed back into me.My heart hammered against my ribs as I arrived outside the lecture hall where the written exam would shortly start. My palms were slick on the strap of my satchel, sweat making the leather slippery beneath my fingers. Beneath the nerves, something raw and desperate clawed at my chest—a determination that felt less like confidence and more like a drowning person's grip on driftwood.
I had to pass this exam. I had to prove I belonged here, because the alternative—failing, being sent away—wasn't something I could survive.
The hallway buzzed with nervous energy—conversations in hushed tones, the rustle of papers, the occasional spark of uncontrolled magic from someone's anxiety. The whole scene felt like being back in high school before the SATs, except everyone here was at least twenty-five and could probably level a city block if they sneezed wrong.
I spotted Mason leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, watching the crowd with those dark eyes that never missed anything. He stood solid and still until our gazes met.
The moment our eyes locked, his expression softened, the hard lines of his face easing into something warmer. He pushed off from the pillar and moved toward me, cutting through the crowd easily. When he reached me, he brushed my elbow with his fingers—barely a touch, just the whisper of skin against skin—but it was enough to ground me.
"You've got this," he murmured, his voice low and gruff, meant only for me. The words steadied me, pulling me back from the edge of panic.
I straightened, forcing that desperate need into something harder, sharper. I couldn't afford doubt—not when everything depended on this. "Just have to remember everything I've ever learned about supernatural politics, magical theory, and dragon bonding. No pressure."
Mason's lips quirked up at the corner. "You know this stuff better than anyone. Trust yourself."
I glanced sideways, catching Kane already ahead of us, his posture stiff, eyes unreadable. My stomach dropped. After last night—the way he'd looked at me, the intensity in his voice when he'd helped me practice, the moment when I thought he might actually...
But he didn't even look my way. Not once. He stood rigid and distant, as if nothing had happened between us at all.
He'd kissed me with fire in his eyes, then looked right through me. Was it a test? A game? Or was I really that delusional? The thought sliced through me, and I tried to dismiss the sting that followed. Maybe I'd imagined the heat in his eyes, the way his voice had gone rough when he'd said my name. Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
Focus, Tess. I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. The pain helped center me, helped push down the hurt and transform it into something useful. Whatever was happening with Kane could wait—right now, I had to survive this exam. Had to prove I wasn't the mistake everyone probably thought I was.
"Breathe, Tess," I muttered under my breath, adjusting my satchel strap. "One crisis at a time."
Anya appeared at the edge of my vision, her violet eyes carefully neutral as she adjusted her own exam materials. The space between us felt charged with unspoken tension—the weight of what had happened when I'd chosen to prioritize my own advancement over helping her. She didn't look directly at me, but I caught the slight tightness around her eyes, the way her usual mischievous energy seemed muted.
"Good luck," she said quietly, her voice polite but distant. No teasing, no dark promises about raising skeletal armies. Just a careful civility that cut deeper than any angry words could have.
The guilt twisted in my stomach, but I pushed it down. I had to. This was bigger than hurt feelings—this was about proving I deserved to be here, that I wasn't just some charity case the Guild had taken pity on. Anya would understand eventually. She had to.
"You too," I managed, the words feeling inadequate. The silence stretched between us, filled with everything we weren't saying.
Draven's low chuckle drew my attention to where he lounged against the doorframe as if he'd already passed and was just here for entertainment. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked between us. "I was promised chaos, not standardized assessments," he drawled, somehow managing to make even his complaint sound seductive.
"The day's still young," I shot back, and his grin widened.
Despite the anxiety clawing at my chest, I felt myself breathing easier. Even Raze's breezy arrival—hood half up, signature grin wide enough to power the Guild's lighting—helped settle my nerves. He dropped into our little cluster with the easyconfidence of someone who'd never met a test he couldn't charm his way through.
"Ready to show these instructors how it's done?" he asked, bumping my shoulder with his.
The question hit something raw in my chest. Ready? I had to be ready. There was no other choice. For a moment, surrounded by this chaotic family I'd somehow collected, I almost forgot the pressure. Almost. But then the doors creaked open with the sound of ancient hinges, and reality slammed back into me.
