Chapter 125 125- Do Not Buy Fireproof Pyjamas
LEXI
With the serious conversation out of the way, or at least… paused, Ellorie and I both seem to come to the same silent agreement. Wine. More wine. Because clearly, that is the most logical next step. I pick up my glass again, taking a slow sip this time, letting the warmth spread through me. The fire crackles softly nearby, the candles flicker, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually breathe without something heavy pressing down on my chest. It’s… nice. Comforting. And maybe that’s why I don’t question it at first. The way the wine never seems to run out. I frown slightly, glancing down at my glass. I definitely drank more than this. I’m sure of it. I swirl it gently, watching the liquid catch the firelight. Full. Again. I don’t remember it being full. I don’t remember it being refilled. I didn’t see Ellorie touch it. I didn’t see the Academy do anything. But somehow… Every time I take a sip, every time I set it down, every time I look away for even a second, it’s full again. I glance over at Ellorie. Her glass is the same.
“Okay..” I mutter under my breath.
“That’s a little suspicious.” I comment. The fire gives a soft whoosh, flaring slightly. I narrow my eyes at it.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask the room. The flames flicker innocently. Which is not convincing. At all. But the thing is, I don’t actually FEEL that drunk. I pause, tilting my head slightly as I check in with myself. There’s a light buzz. A soft warmth. A slight looseness in my limbs. But that’s… it. That’s it. A few months ago, one glass of wine would have me feeling lightheaded and a little wobbly. Two would be pushing it. Three would be a mistake. Now? I’ve had… I don’t even know how many. And I feel… Mostly fine.
“Okay, that’s weird,” I say aloud. Ellorie hums something in response, which I don’t think is actually a word. I glance down at my glass again. It has to be because I shifted. That’s the only thing that’s changed. But… That doesn’t make sense either. In the medicinal magic textbook, it literally says that alcohol doesn’t affect shifters differently unless they’re actually in their shifted form. And I’m not. So either the textbook is wrong. Or I am. Or unicorns are just… different. Which, honestly, wouldn’t be surprising at this point. I suppose alcohol could be considered a type of drug or poison, maybe my nagic is trying to negate it? But I assume it can’t totally since I just keep adding more. I take another sip, considering it. I AM still feeling something. Just… not much. Not enough. Not what I expected.
“Huh. I guess I’m not a cheap drunk anymore.” I murmur. That thought is oddly disappointing. I liked being a cheap drunk. It was efficient. Economical. Now I’d probably need, like… ten glasses to get
properly tipsy. Maybe more.
“Maybe I should enter a drinking contest or something. I’d totally win.” I muse. I glance over at Ellorie and immediately snort. Okay. Correction. I would definitely win against Ellorie. She is very, very clearly losing whatever invisible contest she is currently participating in. She’s swaying slightly where she sits, her posture loose and relaxed, her cheeks flushed. There’s a constant stream of soft giggles escaping her like she’s just remembered something hilarious and can’t quite explain it. Also, she’s inching closer to the fireplace. Very slowly. But definitely moving. I watch her for a second. Then another.
“Ellorie…” I say cautiously.
“Mmm?” she hums, not looking at me,
“You are drifting toward the fire.” I comment. She pauses. Looks down. Looks at the fire. Then back at me.
“Oh… Huh.” she says, like this is brand new information. She doesn’t move. I sigh, reaching out to gently grab her arm and tug her back a few inches.
“Let’s not accidentally set you on fire,” I add.
“That seems like a bad outcome for the evening.” She agrees, then she giggles again. I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything Yeah. This, this is what I needed. Even if the Academy is apparently trying to wine me into emotional vulnerability. Or… whatever this is. At least one of us is having a great time. And the other one… Well. I’m getting there.
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Chapter 125 125 Do Not Buy Fireproof Pyjamas
Okay. So Ellorie is drunk. Not just a little tipsy. Not just giggly and relaxed. She is absolutely wasted.
“I’m hungry,” she announces suddenly, pushing herself up to her feet with all the coordination of a newborn foal. She sways. A lot. Like… dangerously. I blink up at her, then laugh.
“Where are you going?” I ask, already reaching out in case she topples over.
“Dinner,” she says confidently, which would be more convincing if she wasn’t listing slightly to the left.
“It’s dinner time… I think. Ish?” She tells me. I glance at her, then down at myself. Then back at her.
“We’re wearing pyjamas,” I point out. She squints at me like I’ve said something deeply philosophical. Then shrugs.
“You worried people r‘ gonna stare?” she slurs.
“Hate t‘ break it to you, but they do that al’redy.” She informs me blatantly. I sigh. She does kind of have a point…
“Alright,” I concede, pushing myself to my feet.
“Let’s go get some carbs in your stomach to soak up some of that wine.” I announce. She beams at me like I’ve just given her the best idea in the world.
“Carbs,” she repeats happily. It takes a bit of convincing, and a surprising amount of effort, but I manage to get her to put shoes on. Sort of. They’re sneakers. Her heels are hanging halfway out the back, but technically? They’re on. Good enough. Before I can fully assess the situation, she makes a determined shuffle toward the door, which quickly turns into a sort of enthusiastic stumble. I hurry after her, catching her arm before she faceplants into the wall.
“Easy. Let’s not die on the way to dinner.” I laugh.
“No promises,” she says cheerfully. We step out into the hallway. The Academy, for once, doesn’t try to redirect us. Or maybe it just… doesn’t care. The walk out is much faster than the ridiculous maze it sent me through earlier. Straight corridors. Clear turns. No weird looping paths. I barely have to think about it. Which is good. Because I’m currently half carrying Ellorie. She leans heavily against me, her weight uneven, her steps unpredictable, but she’s laughing the entire time, soft, breathy giggles that make it impossible not to smile along with her. And honestly? I feel… good. Relaxed. A little floaty. Not drunk, exactly, but… lighter. Sillier. Like the sharp edges of everything that happened today have been smoothed down just enough that I can exist without constantly thinking about it. We make it to the exit of the dorms, and I adjust my grip on her as she stumbles again, her foot catching awkwardly on the floor.
“Woah, okay, hold on,” I say, tightening my arm around her waist. For a brief second, a thought crosses my mind. Is there a spell for sobering someone up? Probably. There’s a spell for everything here. But then again… She’s happy. She’s not hurting anyone. She’s just… drunk. So what’s the harm? A spell for hangovers would probably be more useful. I make a mental note to ask Layla about that later. And then, something hits me. Literally. And hard. Right on the side of my head. There’s a sharp crack of pain that explodes behind my eyes, and the world tilts violently sideways. I gasp, my grip on Ellorie tightening instinctively as my vision blurs, spinning and unfocused. What… I try to turn. Try to see. But everything is wrong. Too fast. Too dizzy. My balance is already compromised from holding Ellorie, and now… Now I can barely tell which way is up. My heart lurches. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. I open my mouth to shout, to call for help, to do something, but a hand clamps over my mouth. Tight. Cutting off the sound before it can even form. Panic surges instantly. I bite down. Hard. There’s a sharp yelp behind me. Good. But it’s not enough, because a second later, there’s another blow. This one is worse. Heavier. The pain spikes again, brighter, louder, and the last thing I feel is my grip slipping. Ellorie… And then, everything goes dark.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
