Page 75 of Validus Vale Academy 1
Theo’s face drains of blood, and I dash forward, just in time to catch her before she crumples to the floor.
Holding her in my arms, I can feel the panic crashing through her body. “Hey,” I say, “You’re alright. You’re safe. Just breathe.” She’s hiccuping out sobs, and I pull her closer, rubbing her back. She’s so fragile.
“What just happened? What’s wrong with her?” asks Cosmo. I ignore him and concentrate on Theo as she starts hyperventilating.
“Breathe with me, pulu. Are you listening? Take a long, slow breath.” I gather her more firmly in my arms. Her hand presses against my chest.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a water bottle is thrust towards me. "Here, get her to drink this," Drakeward snaps. I would, but Theo still cries and shakes too hard. I have a spell that could soothe her, but I need my hands free.
"Hold her," I growl at Drakeward. He looks startled, but doesn't argue, just shrugging off his sweater, wrapping it around her like a blanket, and then lifting her into his arms. Taking a seat on the sofa, he rocks her gently, brushing her long, dark hair away from her face.
I get to work, drawing from my spark. I weave the magic passed down through generations of my people, from the beasts of our past. In ancient times, this spellwork lulled enemies into a false sense of security. Now, it’s most commonly used to calm panic and anxiety. Witch-made Valium, if you will.
As I cast, Theo's breathing slowly regulates, but my heart rate picks up. I taste her fear. The flip side to this spellwork is that I have to absorb the emotion that I’m taking away from the other. Gods. Pain pours out of her psyche and into mine; her terror almost makes me choke; I swallow it down, but cannot take enough to release her fully from her panic.
When her eyes flicker open, I can’t bear to see how desperate they are, as if something has broken inside her. Fuck, I don’t know what’s happening, but I never want to see that look on myrakas'face again.
Rakas.
What the fuck? I just called her my loved one. Saying that out loud would be a fuck up of epic proportions. Thinking it is bad enough. I-I just can’t seem to control myself when it comes to Theo Wilson.
Cosmo continues to brush a gentle hand through her hair. I can read nothing but care and worry in his intentions. “What was that spell?” he murmurs. “I could feel it too. Powerful.”
Fuckinghitto.
I’ve just exposed a small part of my powers to an Elite. And this particular Elite is son and heir to The Conclave’s Imperator—Tyrus Drakeward.
Still, what’s done is done. "Put her on the couch," I tell him, my voice clipped. "And then, we talk."
Drakeward lays her down, covering her once again with his sweater. Moving to a chair, he dusts it off with his hand, then sits. "Shall I soundproof the room?" he asks, his gaze meeting mine.
"No need," I say, a smirk spreading across my face as I recall listening in on him just a couple of nights ago. "It's already done. Only ahupšuwould leave themselves vulnerable to eavesdropping."
Cosmo's brow furrows, and his shoulders tense. "You motherfucker," he spits, his voice low and dangerous. "That's how you know Wes and Donovan's names."
He's quick, I'll give him that. But he doesn't realize I overheard him fromoutsidehis fifth-floor window, not the corridor. "Why are you so interested in them?” Drakeward demands. “Does it have anything to do with what just happened?"
I have no idea why Theo was so affected by the sneakers. Looking up, I find Drakeward watching me, his expression thoughtful, appraising.
"I think we're both looking for similar things," he says slowly, his voice measured. "You cursed me out in Kormovian. There was another Kormovian student here last year; he had ink on his hand similar to yours. This kid went missing, too. Any relation?"
I glance at the back of my left hand, where two glowing tattooed eyes stare back at me. Should have fucking covered them up. Too late now. "I owe you no information," I say. “Additionally, I don’t like or trust you.”
"That goes without saying," he scoffs. "I'm Cosmo Drakeward, heir to The Conclave. You'd be an idiot to trust me. But Wes and Donovan are my brothers, and I will happily destroy every last part of my father’s power-crazed society if it means I can find the twins and bring them home."
A flicker of raw vulnerability crosses his face, which, strangely, makes me believe him. "Maximus Larsen," I say reluctantly, “is my cousin. The shoes belong to him. They were with his belongings, abandoned in his room."
“That maniac was your cousin? Yeah, I can see the resemblance, now you mention it.”
“Ismy cousin,” I growl. “No past tense.” Max is alive; he has to be.
Drakeward leans back and crosses his arms. "So, the sneakers? What was the little dud sensing?"
Gods. Am I really about to trust this arrogant ass? It goes against every instinct, but I guess I can share a little, use it to leverage more of Drakeward’s own secrets. “When I searched his possessions, I could sense a strange energy coming from the shoes. It had a magical signature unlike anything I’ve ever come across. It had worn off now—or so I thought. I’m working on the assumption that energy has something to do with Max disappearing.”
“And maybe Wes and Donovan too,” Cosmo murmurs. "So, we work together, share information, and do not betray each other for the time it takes to find our people."
I glance over at the sofa, then stretch out my hand. "Fine. But you have to release Wilson. She cannot be bound to you."
