Chapter 69 69- Do Not Argue About Organizing Treasure By Century
LEXI
I sit on the bed and watch Blake clean. Honestly, the room is coming back together a lot faster than I would have expected. Every time he lifts a shelf or nudges a drawer back into place, the damage just… Repairs itself. Splintered wood knits back together. Cracks vanish. Bent metal straightens. The Academy hums faintly, cooperative again, like it’s quietly undoing the chaos now that the threat has passed. It definitely helps speed things along. And with every item he puts back where it belongs, Blake seems calmer. More grounded. The sharp, dangerous edge of him dulls little by little, rage bleeding out of his posture as order is restored. His movements slow. His breathing evens out. Control settles back over him like armour being carefully reassembled. Which is good. Because he was… Terrifying. I replay the image without meaning to, Blake’s hand locked around Aaron’s throat, the way his eyes burned, the absolute certainty that he wouldn’t stop unless something intervened. I honestly thought he was going to kill him. Not threaten. Not hurt. Kill. I can understand why he was so angry. Dragons and their hoards and all that. I know enough about dragon instincts to grasp how deep that violation must have gone. His space. His things. But at the same time… I’m not exactly sure that’s a good enough reason to literally kill someone. There are still spots of blood on the carpet. They’re smaller now, fading slowly, edges blurring as the Academy works at them like a living sponge. So I guess it’s taking care of that too. Quietly. Efficiently. Like it’s trying to erase evidence of what almost happened. But I can’t erase it. The point is, I’m shaken. Not screaming or panicking or falling apart. Just… Rattled. Freaked out in a way that sinks deep and settles there, heavy and uncomfortable. I trust Blake. I do. I trust him with me. With my safety. With my feelings. I know he would never hurt me. I know he would protect me, probably at any cost. But I can’t trust him to always do the right thing. That realisation sits like a stone in my chest. Sure, I can reason this incident away. Extreme provocation. Dragon instincts. A hoard violation. Fear and anger spiralling out of control. I can tell myself this was a perfect storm. But what if he HAD killed someone? Would I really be able to shrug that off so
easily? Would I still be sitting here, watching him put things back in order, pretending everything is fine just because it didn’t cross that final line this
time? And the worst part? He doesn’t seem even remotely sorry. Not ashamed. Not regretful. Calmer, yes. Controlled again. But not remorseful. Like, in his
mind, what he did was justified. Necessary. Things turned out okay–ish this time. But what about next time? What if I’m not there to stop him? What if I am
there, and I can’t? I watch him in silence, heart heavy, knowing I’m standing at the edge of something complicated and dangerous and not yet knowing what
I’m going to do about it.
Blake is cleaning up the last few things now, rearranging his shelves with meticulous care. Every item goes back in a specific order, placed just so, like he’s
reasserting control over his space one object at a time. The room is almost unrecognisable from the wreck it was earlier. Calm. Orderly. Quiet. I’ve been
sitting here for a couple of hours. And honestly? I’m kind of bored. There’s only so long you can sit and watch someone clean before your brain starts to
wander. It’s only entertaining when it’s one of those ASMR cleaning videos on YouTube, where someone is weirdly bubbly and enthusiastic about scrubbing the most horrific messes imaginable, and everything is sped up to ten times normal speed with satisfying before–and–after shots. Real life doesn’t come with background music or jump cuts. In real time, it’s just… Cleaning. I lean back slightly on the bed, shifting my weight, and the soft crinkle of paper under my hand makes me pause. That’s odd. I lift my hand and carefully pull a folded sheet of paper out of Blake’s blankets. I fully intend to just put it on his bedside
table. I really do. But my eyes catch the first line before I can stop myself.
To Blake Nyvas and Alexis Elle.
I blink. Then I read it again, just to be sure.
*…Uh, Blake? Have you seen this letter before?” I say slowly, my confusion outweighing my better judgement. He looks up from the shelf he’s fixing, brow
furrowing as he peers over at me.
“Huh? No?” He answers, clearly just as confused. I glance back down at the paper, my stomach sinking a little as I skim further.
“It’s… From the principal.” I say, trailing off despite myself.
“It asks us both to come to her office at our earliest convenience…” I add. Great. Just… Great. I fold the letter back up, irritation and dread settling in all at
once. I’m definitely missing the rest of my afternoon classes now, including my medicinal magic class, which I was really looking forward to. Of all the days for that to happen. And on top of that, I’m being summoned to the principal’s office. I don’t actually think I’m in trouble. I haven’t done anything wrong. If anything, I’m probably being called in as a witness. Or for a statement. Or to answer questions about what I saw. That makes sense. Blake, though… I glance up at him, watching the way his shoulders tense just a fraction as the implications catch up. Yeah. He’s probably in trouble. There’s no world in which what
just happened doesn’t come with consequences for him.
1/2
Chapter 69 69- Do Not Argue About Organizing Treasure By Century
Blake fiddles with his hoard for a little while longer, rearranging and checking things with the same meticulous core as before. He tests the newly repaired door once. Then again. And again. He presses on the frame, rattles the handle, checks the lock, steps away, then comes back and checks it again. Only after about the tenth time does he finally seem satisfied enough to agree to leave. We head for the principal’s office. When we get there, much to my horror, Blake doesn’t knock. He doesn’t pause. He doesn’t wait. He just throws the door open, strides straight inside, and stops in front of the desk, standing tall and very clearly staring down at Principal Istvan like she is the one who’s been summoned. I sigh quietly and follow him in.
“Hey, sorry for barging in.” I mumble, heat creeping up my neck as I close the door behind us. I move around Blake and take a seat across from her desk, trying to look calm and reasonable and like I belong here. Principal Istvan gives me a small nod and a polite, brief smile, acknowledging my attempt at manners. Then her expression hardens again.
“So. Today did not go well.” She says evenly, folding her hands on the desk. Blake snorts. Loudly.
“That’s an understatement, I thought this place was supposed to be safe.” He says flatly. The accusation hangs heavy in the air. I blink. Why does it suddenly feel like Blake is the one making a complaint here instead of being in trouble? Principal Istvan lets out a slow, heavy sigh.
“You’re right.” She says after a moment.
“It should be. But we can’t be prepared for everything.” Her gaze sharpens slightly.
“Perhaps it would be best if you kept some of your more valuable items in a more secure location.” She suggests. She doesn’t say it outright, but the implication is obvious. Somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere the Academy doesn’t have to account for.
“I do keep the majority of it… Elsewhere.” Blake replies, his voice lower now, more controlled.
“But it’s… Uncomfortable… To be away from it entirely.” He admits. I glance at him, surprised. I didn’t know that. But when I think about it, it makes sense. If he didn’t need his hoard nearby, he wouldn’t keep any of it here at all. Principal Istvan nods once.
“Understood.” She responds, then she straightens slightly.
“Now… As for the incident today. The other students claim that you attacked them unprovoked.” She continues, choosing the words carefully. Blake lets out a low, dangerous growl that vibrates in his chest, the sound unmistakably not human. My heart jumps, and I shake my head immediately.
“That’s not what happened!” I blurt out, unable to stop myself.
“They broke into his room and trashed everything and tried to steal from his hoard!” 1 finish. The words tumble out fast, sharp with frustration and lingering adrenaline. Principal Istvan doesn’t interrupt. She leans back slightly in her chair, eyes flicking between us as she considers that. The silence stretches, heavy and deliberate, like she’s weighing not just the story, but us. Damn it. This meeting isn’t going to be nearly as simple as I hoped.
Comments
A Angela M
I am loving this book so far. I can’t wait to read more of it!
7 days ago
30
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.
