Page 35 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“I thought that was your job,” she replied, standing up and brushing past him.
Alaire rubbed her fingers against her scalp.I cannot work with him.Not for one second.
“The gardens, now, novice. Don’t make me repeat it.” He didn’t look back as he strode ahead.
His strides were annoyingly long, forcing her to jog every few steps. She muttered a string of insults under her breath.
“Why the gardens?” she asked as they passed through the castle doors into the fresh, overcast day. “Planning to bore me to death with plant trivia?”
Dawson didn’t even glance at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But perhaps a change of scenery will make you less… irritable.”
“I’m not irritable,” she snapped.
The garden’s manicured, haunting foliage glowed faintly in the soft light. Dawson led them to a secluded alcove with a bench surrounded by deep, dark purple-to-black flowers, creating pools of burgundy. The air was cooler here, the noise of campus only a distant hum. Black anthuriums hung overhead, forming a dark, intimate canopy. It could have been a peaceful retreat—if not for the company.
Alaire’s gaze landed on a cluster of obsidian dahlias, their petals almost velvety as they swallowed the light. Beside them bloomed black-fringed tulips and wicked witch coleus with leaves the color of dried blood. Clusters of midnight roses added to the display.
“Those suit you,” Alaire remarked, nodding toward the roses. “Dark, broody, and full of thorns.”
Unique and beautiful too.
His head tilted slightly, gaze fixed on her with unnerving precision. For a moment, silence stretched, thick and charged. Then, softly: “Careful, Aerendyl. Someone might think you’ve been paying attention to me.”
Alaire angled her body away and snorted, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Trust me, Knox, I’d rather take notes on dirt.”
“Feel free to call me ‘Most-Revered-Premiere-Lord-in-waiting,’ if you prefer.”
Her cheeks burned. He’d heard them.
Dawson settled on the bench, posture relaxed, eyes locked on hers. Heat spread like magma through her veins, leaving her flustered and strangely exposed under the weight of his gaze.
“How exactly did you con your way into a spot at Aeris Academy?” he asked, deceptively light.
His question yanked her right back to reality.
“If I had to con my way anywhere, I promise it wouldn’t be here withyou.”
His turquoise eyes narrowed. “And yet, here you are.”
Dawson rose from the bench, stepping closer. She hated how aware she was of him—his height, the way his leathers clung to broad shoulders, the roll of his throat when he swallowed, the faint scent of frosted evergreen and salted wind, and mostly, how instinctively she was drawn to him.
“Here I am,” she said steadily despite the flutter in her stomach. “Doing what I’ve been told. I donotwant to be here. Perhaps you could get that through your obnoxious skull.”
“You are not one of us,” Dawson stated, ignoring everything she’d just said. “Everyone knows it.”
The doubt ignited instantly, but she refused to let him see it. Alaire stepped closer until barely a breath separated them, the floral scent doing nothing to soothe the irritation buzzingbeneath her skin. “And where should I be, then,prince? Locked away? Serving your kind like some obedient little human?”
He didn’t flinch at her proximity. Tension crackled between them. “Anywhere but here,” he murmured.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down.
Dawson’s gaze swept over her like he was taking stock of every inch. It wasn’t leering—it was assessing, calculating, like he was searching for cracks in her armor.
He leaned even closer, and her body hummed in appreciation. His voice dipped low, a dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “What are you hiding, Alaire? Why are you here?”
Two could play this game. Alaire gave him a rueful smile as she brushed a hand over his chest. “Maybe I enjoy the thrill of ruffling fae feathers.”
He blew a breath against the soft shell of her ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
