Page 121 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Headmaster Carth’s office was austere: dark mahogany furniture carved as intricately as the doors, dim light filtering through a tall stained-glass window, casting colorful patterns on the floor. The air carried the mingled scent of melting wax and earthy mustiness.
Headmaster Carth sat behind his desk, hands splayed over neat stacks of parchment.
“Alaire,” he greeted smoothly. “Please, have a seat.”
Alaire didn’t move. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the shadows. They weren’t alone.
Standing by the window was the smooth-tongued advisor to House Aetheris. He looked as revolting as she remembered—white hair, smarmy smile, bowl cut, a hooked nose. Victory gleamed in his beady black eyes.
Caius’s father. Dexter Vale.
This is going to be so much worse than I thought.
With a slight nod, she sat in one of the leather chairs before the desk. She forced her shoulders down and back, masking the tension coiled in her chest.
“Headmaster,” she said evenly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Dexter turned toward her, dark eyes pinning her with distate. “We have matters to discuss, Ms. Aerendyl—or rather, Ms. Vallorian, I should say.”
She bristled. The bastard knew damn well what her name was. Using Aerendyl was nothing but a power play, denying her the respect of her actual name and the status that came with it.
Alaire tilted her head in feigned innocence. “Matters? I thought everything had already been smoothed over.”
“I apologize if there is some confusion—” Headmaster Carth began.
“Nothing has beensmoothedover,” Dexter snapped, voice slicing through the room, cracking his polished facade. She hadn’t even said anything yet.
Desperation rolled off him.
Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.
He leered over Headmaster Carth’s shoulder. “Did you think you could declare yourself heir to the lost Vallorian line and there would be no questions? That you could continue your studies at Aeris Academy without the Consortium seeking answers?”
She bit her tongue to keep from smiling. He’d played right into her hands.
“And?” She flicked her fingers as though his questions bored her.
Headmaster Carth’s gaze darted nervously between them. He cleared his throat. “The Consortium feels your return poses a threat. You’ve lived undetected in Cielore for over ten years. You have a wealth of information about our politics, strategies, and customs—information our enemy would pay handsomely for…”
Alaire’s head snapped back. “I’m no more a threat than the other heirs under Aeris Academy’s tutelage. Once again, it all comes down to bloodlines. I’m half human, so you consider me unpredictable. As for my throne—there’s nothing left to claim. Aurelia is gone. My parents are dead.” She leaned forward, eyes blazing. “And if you ever insinuate that I’d trade information to my parents’ killers for any price, I will gut you from end to end.”
“How convenient,” Dexter said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your struggles during the first trial also raised concerns. Barely managing what comes naturally to every other student hardly inspires confidence in your capabilities.”
She arched one light brown brow. “You mean when I prioritized saving one of the few trained fliers over completing an arbitrary trial? I would’ve thought the Consortium valued protecting their assets against the vampires.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I had left her there. I’m sure Lyra’s Premiere Lord would be delighted to hear that.”
Thecreakof the door snapped Alaire’s gaze toward the sound. In strode an all too familiar fae.
What was he doing here?
Her treacherous heartbeat ricocheted up a notch.
Stop it. He made it clear—strictly partners.
“Sureeee,” Solflara crooned down the bond.
“Your Royal Highness, thank you for joining us.” Headmaster Carth preened, greeting his beloved prince. So this was what it meant to be royal—to wield so much power and influence that even the headmaster bowed to your whims.
“You requested my presence?” Dawson asked.
