Chapter 66 66- Do Not Pretend Public Roaring Is Normal
LEXI
I head into the potions lab and everything is fine. Or so I think, at least. I slide into my usual seat and set my things down, already half–focused on the lesson, when something catches my eye. I freeze. My gaze drops to the surface of the desk, and my stomach sinks. Someone has scribbled awful things all over it. The words are messy and aggressive, painted onto the wood in thick, dark strokes. My chest tightens as I read them, heat flushing up my neck. I reach out and rub a finger over one of the lines, half–hoping it’s old, faded, something I can brush off. The ink smears. It isn’t even dry yet. Okay. Great. So this didn’t happen yesterday. Or overnight. This probably just happened. Which means whoever did it is here. In this room. Possibly still watching. I straighten slowly, forcing myself not to look around too obviously. My mind tries to latch onto guesses, faces, names, old patterns, but I cut it off. It doesn’t
matter who I think it was. I can’t prove anything. And spiralling won’t help. I let out a quiet breath through my nose.
“Academy… Any tips for cleaning off my desk?” I say flatly, keeping my voice low. For a moment, nothing happens. Then a strange, shimmering line runs across the surface of the desk, straight and clean. Wherever it passes, the writing vanishes instantly, wiped away like a dodgy Etch A Sketch being shaken too hard. No residue. No smudges. Just clean wood, like nothing was ever there. I sit up straighter, relief flooding through me so fast it almost makes me
laugh.
“Thanks.” I say happily, genuine gratitude warming my voice. So much for that particular attempt at harassment. I suppose the Academy could have erased it before I saw it. But somehow, I don’t think that would have been better. As awful as it is, I think I’d rather know if someone is trying to harass me. If this escalates, and it could, then that’s something I need to be prepared for, not blindsided by. I adjust my chair, square my shoulders, and try to focus on the lesson. The rest of the class doesn’t go much better. Every person who walks past my desk seems to find a reason to bump into my chair. An elbow catches my arm. A bag clips my leg. Someone steps just a little too close, a little too hard, every time. Each impact is small enough to be dismissed as accidental, but there are too many of them. By the end of it, I’m sore and simmering. At this rate, I’ll have plenty of chances to practice healing bruises. This completely sucks. And as I sit there, jaw tight, pretending to take notes, one thought keeps circling stubbornly in my head. I really hope Blake doesn’t notice. Because if he does, I’m not sure this room will survive the day intact. Maybe I should drop a few reminders about what happens when he pisses the
Academy off…
2
I practically run out of potions. I don’t even bother lingering to pack up properly, just shove my things into my desk and get out as fast as I can. I thought Shifter Basics was my least favourite class, but now I’m thinking it might actually be potions. Which is incredibly disappointing, honestly. That class had so much potential. Spellwork, theory, practical application, it should have been fascinating. Instead, it’s turned into this. Sigh. Spellcasting and Shifter Basics go much better. Not because I’m suddenly amazing at them, I’m still not actually capable of doing most of the tasks yet. Although I am getting a lot better at pulling my magic together, focusing it, making it do something instead of just… Buzzing uselessly under my skin. So hopefully I’ll start succeeding more soon. I hope. Because I am usually an academic overachiever, and coasting by like this is not something I enjoy. Nope. Those classes are better for a much simpler reason. Blake is in them. Which basically means that no one bothers me whatsoever. People keep their distance, deliberately, noticeably, because they’re too scared to come within ten feet of us. I never thought I particularly wanted everyone to leave me alone But apparently? I really, really do. By the time lunch rolls around, I am more than ready for a break. I follow Blake into the cafeteria, the noise and movement pressing in around us. We grab our food and find a seat like usual. I settle in, fork poised, ready to finally eat something substantial. And then my fork slides away from my hand.
“Huh?” I mutter. I reach for it again. It slides further away. I try a third time, slower, more deliberate, and the fork very clearly runs away from me.
“What the hell?” I say, irritation flaring instantly. Blake reaches out to grab it instead. It dodges him too. He pauses, brow furrowing.
“Academy, what are you doing?” I demand flatly, patience evaporating. I had a long morning. Please don’t make it worse. In response, my entire bowl of food
scoots away from me, scraping lightly across the table. My chair shoves itself back from the table at the same time, just enough to make me wobble. Blake’s chair starts to move too, but then he makes this low, angry sound deep in his chest, barely audible, and everything stops. I guess even the Academy knows better than to taunt a dragon directly. Still, when I go to pull my chair back in, it refuses to budge.
“Seriously!” I snap, pushing it again just to be sure.
“What even is this?” 1 demand. I get to my feet, arms thrown out in frustration. I genuinely thought the Academy liked me. Did I piss it off somehow? Did I break some invisible rule? Behind me, my chair tucks itself neatly under the table without me touching it. Blake stands as well, glaring down at the table like it’s personally offended him. His chair slides in too, crisp and obedient.
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6:26 pm P ppp.
Chapter 66 66- Do Not Pretend Public Roaring Is Normal
“I hate this damn magical sentient building.” He says hotly. I try to pull my chair out again. It still won’t move.
“Ugh! What do you want?!” I shout. The cafeteria doors fly open with a loud bang. Every head in the room turns. No one is there.
“Are you seriously kicking us out?” I ask incredulously, staring at the open doorway. The doors swing slightly on their hinges, as if caught in a breeze that doesn’t exist. I am legitimately offended now.
“Fine. Whatever. We’re leaving!” I announce angrily. I grab Blake’s hand and drag him after me, storming out of the cafeteria while the doors remain obligingly open, like the Academy has just won some ridiculous argument.
Somehow, being picked on by the Academy hurts more than being picked on by my classmates in potions. At least with people, I can tell myself it’s pettiness or jealousy or fear. At least there’s a face I can put to it, a reason I can try to understand or prepare for. But the Academy? The Academy is supposed to be neutral. Safe. On my side. As soon as we step out of the cafeteria, the doors slam shut behind us with finality. The sound echoes down the corridor. I flinch
despite myself.
“So…” Blake says after a moment, his voice tight. He’s still clearly pissed off, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, but there’s nowhere obvious to aim that anger.
“What now?” He asks bluntly. I swallow, trying to shake off the unpleasant knot in my chest.
“I don’t know.” I admit.
“We could go to class early… Or go to the library for a bit?” The suggestion barely leaves my mouth before a nearby window rattles aggressively, glass shivering in its frame like it’s objecting. Blake stops dead. His head snaps toward the sound, eyes narrowing.
“The library maybe. We-” He freezes. Completely. His entire body tenses like a drawn bow, every muscle locking into place. The shift is so sudden it makes
my stomach drop.
“Blake?” I ask, my voice pitching with concern.
“Something is wrong.” He says. His tone is dark now, low and dangerous in a way I haven’t heard directed at the Academy before.
“What do you.” I start.
“I need to get to my room. Now.” He blurts out, urgency cracking through his usually flawless control. And then he’s moving. He turns and breaks into a run, long strides eating up the corridor in seconds. I don’t even hesitate. There’s no hope of keeping up with Blake’s much longer legs, not when he’s moving like that, but that isn’t going to stop me from chasing after him.
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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.
