Page 120 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“It’s not that simple,” he said, jaw tight.
“Nothing ever is,” she echoed softly, his own words returned. Slowly, she stood, giving him space, hoping he would say more. When he didn’t, she wiped her palms on the back of her leathers and stepped away. She couldn’t force him to open up. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk.”
Silence stretched between them. She busied herself with cleaning the supplies, giving him privacy as he pulled his shirt back on. The rejection shouldn’t have hurt this much. She was a fool to believe he’d say something—anything—to bridge the barrier they always seemed to slam against.
When she finished, Dawson was already at the door, hand resting on the handle.
“Get some rest,” she murmured, moving toward him. “You need it.”
“You too. Thank you again.” He opened the door, but before shutting it, his voice came low and serious. “And Alaire? Be careful. After what happened to Kaia… just be careful.”
The door clicked shut.
Alaire stood there a long moment, her forehead pressed against the wood. The lingering scent of frosted evergreen and salted wind wrapped around her.
She stayed longer than she should’ve before finally turning away and climbing into bed.
Empty and alone.
Twenty-Nine
Alaire hugged herself as she walked through the brisk air, regretting not wearing another layer. Shivering, her footsteps echoed faintly on the stone steps leading to Eclat Castle.
“Off to see the headmaster, are we?” barked one of the gargoyles. Its weathered stone face cracked into a toothy grin.
Another, perched lower on a turret, drew its thick stony brows together. “Trouble brewing, I’d say,” it muttered.
Alaire didn’t have time to indulge the campus gossip mill, not when she’d been summoned to Headmaster Carth’s office. She quickened her pace before she was trapped in a never-ending tale of who was dating whom.
Although she’d been preparing for this moment since revealing her true lineage, a ball of nerves bounced around her stomach.
The Consortium wants me under its thumb.
She walked through the familiar corridors, careful to avoid any new passages, until she reached the headmaster’s office.
A stern-faced attendant sat at their desk, head bent low over parchment. Their bald head snapped up at the sound of her footsteps.
“Go in. They’re expecting you,” the attendant said before diving back into their work.
They’re?
The dark, imposing doors of weathered oak, adorned with intricate gold filigree, loomed gargantuan against her size. She pulled on the handle.
“Here goes nothing,” she shot down the bond toward Solflara.
“Shall it not go as intended,I will simply pluck their eyeballs from their skulls.Nothing to stress about,I assure you.”
“We can’t go around shamelessly killing everyone,as intriguing as that sometimes sounds.Otherwise,we’d be no better than them.”
“Fine.”
“I thought you were supposed to be the sage one.”
“I am.Do try not to stab anyone,then.”
Despite everything, Alaire fought back a smile. As much as she’d love to cut down anyone who stood in her way, she had to play the long game.
The doors opened with acreakthat echoed down the stone hallway.
