Page 20 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Novices inhabited the West Wing, past Magique Moderna, where Professor Ross had informed them their theoretical portion of the Symbiotic Synergy course would be held. Along the way, he pointed out buildings and campus areas imperative for novices to know.
Alaire noted them all, forming a mental map of the grounds.
Professor Ross avoided making eye contact with her. She guessed it had something to do with his determination to evade her questions. Alaire was sure her reasons for being here went beyond anything he’d claimed.
She’d keep pushing him for answers. But their journey had taught her he’d only reveal what he chose to, when he chose to. In the meantime, she’d find her own answers—his office, administrative records, the library. Somewhere in this castle was evidence explaining why a magicless human had earned a place amongst the fae elite.
No one offered salvation without expecting payment in blood.
“Twenty minutes to change,” Professor Ross instructed the assembled novices. “I’ll be waiting to escort you to Historia Hall. Don’t be late.”
Alaire shut her door and pressed her back against it, eyes closed. Exhaustion clawed at her from the inside out.
The room was spacious. High-arched ceilings gave it an airy feel. Dark stone walls, the same as the castle’s exterior, were cold beneath her fingertips as she traced the surface, searching for any irregularities that might betray hidden mechanisms.
Beautiful or not, she’d learned that any room could become a cage.
To her left, a door led to a miniature spa. A large stone soaking tub dominated the space. Sustained by House Aqualis’s magic, it would fill at the touch of a button, according to Professor Ross. Alaire planned to spend the entire evening letting the warm water uncoil every tight muscle in her body.
Her room curved with the castle’s architecture, one of the West Wing’s parapets. Alaire’s bed was massive, with wood posts rising to sharp points and a canopy draping above it. She trailed her fingers over the edge of the carved bedpost, the wood polished to a gleam. Everything here was beautiful.
But it felt hollow, like an echo of a life that had never been hers to claim.
A tiny fireplace sat opposite the bed, accompanied by a single settee. An aged oak desk held a few essentials provided for her: parchment, writing utensils, and a small stack of leather-bound textbooks.
The desk faced a narrow window stretching from floor to ceiling, flooding the room with light. Ivy crept along the edge of the glass. Her view faced north—the Serenity Gardens spread below, and beyond that, a forest of ebony trees: the Woods of Whispers.
She scanned the room, eyes combing the space for anything out of place—a strange draft, a loose stone, furniture positioned slightly wrong. Nothing seemed amiss, but unease lingered.
Sets of functional leathers lay across her bed. The same style she’d seen on the arrogant fae male.
She shoved her limbs through the durable yet surprisingly comfortable uniform. Quickly, she wrapped the braid that fell down her back into a bun. If they wanted to stare at her rounded ears, she’d give them an unobstructed view.
“You’re the human, right?”
Alaire was locking her door when she heard the question. Something about the voice—the easy familiarity, the lack of venom—feltfamiliar.A lump formed in her throat. Sweeping her eyelids toward the ceiling, she blinked back the unexpected surge of emotion. Now wasn’t the time for it.
The last thing she needed was to deal with someone else, but the simultaneousclickof the door behind her didn’t give her much choice.
“What gave it away?” she replied to her door sarcastically.
“The ears.”
Creative. Alaire resisted running her hands over their shape.
She turned, slipping on her mask of indifference. “I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Across the hall, a fae female leaned against the doorframe, radiating casual confidence. Long auburn corkscrew curls pointed in several directions, the rest tumbling down the front of her leathers—wild, loose, free in a way Alaire envied. Deep almond-shaped eyes were set in a heart-shaped face with smooth, flawless skin. She gave Alaire a blinding smile that revealed a dimple in her right cheek.
She was nothing short of breathtaking.
The female cocked her head. “Everyone will either avoid you like Umbra’s last plague or make it their personal mission to break you,” she said.
Alaire studied her, waiting for the cruel twist in her words. All fae were the same. “And which one of those are you?”
“Neither. I don’t care if you’re human or a toad. Aeris Academy isn’t the pinnacle of my existence.” Her subtle accent told Alaire she was from somewhere far from Cielore. “Being here isn’t my first choice. Get in, learn what I need to, then get out. Simple.”
Another outsider?Alaire analyzed the fae. Everything about her exuded warmth, not like the ice-cold air wielders of Cielore.
