Chapter 73 73- Never Let Him Steal Your Seat
LEXI
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I hurry into class and slide into my seat as quickly as I can, trying to look like I’ve been here the whole time. My heart is still racing, from the spell, from almost being late, from the door drama. I smooth my hair, adjust my bag, and stare very intently at my desk like I’ve been studying it for the last ten minutes. Everyone else is already seated. The room has that low, restless pre–class hum, chairs shifting, books thudding onto desks, whispered conversations cutting off as I enter. A few eyes flick toward me, some curious, some cool, but no one says anything. My desk is spotless. Not just clean, spotless. No ink smears. No scratches. No residue. The wood looks almost polished, like it’s been buffed. My chair is perfectly tidy too. I don’t know if anyone tried anything again before I got here. But if they did, the Academy already handled it. Two minutes after I sit down, Professor Matthews bursts in. Actually bursts. His face is flushed an alarming
shade of red, and he looks frazzled, genuinely frazzled.
“Sorry everyone!” He says, breathless.
“I don’t know what happened. I was in my office and the door got stuck! It took me forever to get it open. Hopefully you weren’t all waiting too long.” He apologises. A door that mysteriously won’t open. I freeze for half a second. Then, very slowly, I glance at the classroom door. Then back at my desk. Then at the wall. Oh. OH. I press my lips together and gently pat the edge of my desk affectionately, silently thanking the Academy. It gave me the time I needed. Time to calm down. Time to focus. Time to succeed at my first spell. Totally worth it. Professor Matthews launches into the lesson, but as he talks, something feels… Off. There are strange noises. Creaking. Sharp little metallic clinks. Wood grinding in ways it shouldn’t. I’ve never noticed any of these little sounds before. At first I assume I’m just hyper–aware, still buzzing from the spell. But then I notice something, almost every sound comes from somewhere that isn’t my immediate vicinity. I shift slightly in my chair. Silent. I press my weight against the desk. Solid. A pen clatters loudly to the floor. The girl who dropped it sighs and bends to pick it up. She sets it on her desk. It immediately rolls off again. Clatter. She frowns and sets
it farther up the desk. It rolls. Clatter. Professor Matthews pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Rachael, would you please stop playing with that?” He says in a lecturing tone.
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“I’m NOT!” She snaps.
“I put it on the desk and it just rolls off! I think my desk is on a slant or something.” She complains. A few students snicker.Then a boy
from the back slams his palm against his desk in irritation.
“At least YOURS is just slanting. Mine is covered in something weirdly sticky. What is this? Who’s responsible for cleaning and maintaining this place? It’s a mess!” He calls out. He lifts his hand and shakes it, clearly disgusted. That’s when the complaints start
snowballing.
“My chair keeps wobbling.” One person says.
“There’s a splinter in my desk!” Someone adds.
“Why is this scratched up?” A third person whines.
“My table leg is shorter on one side.” Another person complains.
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Chapter 73 73- Never Let Him Steal Your Seat
“I swear this thing wasn’t like this yesterday.” Someone huffs. I glance down at my perfectly level, perfectly smooth desk. My pen rests exactly where I left it. There is not a single imperfection. Professor Matthews looks genuinely unsettled now.
“The Academy takes care of all of those things itself.” H says carefully.
“It’s generally quite… Fastidious.” He adds.
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“Ugh, stupid Academy.” Someone mutters from the middle row. The response is immediate. Her chair tilts. Not dramatically. Just enough.
She lets out a startled yelp as it slides sideways and she topples to the floor with a heavy thud. The entire room goes silent.
“OW!” She complains loudly. Professor Matthews stares. I clap a hand over my mouth. My shoulders start shaking. Because that was not random. That was deliberate. Another student mutters something under his breath about the building being useless. There’s a sharp crack
as one of the legs on his chair ‘breaks,‘ and he drops abruptly, arms flailing. Gasps. Someone else squeals.
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“My seat is wet! Why is my seat wet?!” She says in a panicky voice. The girl leaps up, staring in horror at the damp patch on her skirt. I
cannot. I physically cannot. A tiny snort escapes me before I can stop it. I bury my face in my hands, pretending to cough, but my
shoulders are trembling with suppressed laughter. This isn’t malfunction. This isn’t coincidence. This is targeted. The Academy isn’t
confused anymore. It understands exactly what’s been happening. And it has opinions. And apparently, it is both ancient magic and
deeply petty. I sit there in my pristine little bubble watching chaos unfold around me. My desk is perfect. My chair is steady. My pen stays
exactly where I put it. The realisation settles warm and steady in my chest. The Academy has chosen a side.
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It takes Professor Matthews a solid twenty minutes to calm the class down. Twenty full minutes of scraping chairs, muttered complaints,
dramatic sighing, and students switching seats like they’re rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship. The student whose chair ‘broke‘ ends
up borrowing Professor Matthews‘ chair while the professor wanders the room, clearly resigned to his fate. The rest of the class is tense. Suspicious. Like everyone is waiting for the furniture to betray them again. I sit quietly in my perfect little bubble, trying not to look too pleased. Eventually, Professor Matthews clears his throat loudly enough to reclaim control.
“Right. Today we’ll be attempting another potion.” He starts. There’s a collective whisper of excitement. Making stuff is more fun than
doing readings or sitting through a lecture.
“It is a very basic potion. Completely safe. Harmless. You could spill it all over yourself and nothing bad would happen.” He continues
pointedly. He pauses just long enough for that to sink in.
“Despite this, Miss Mallory will still be observing and taking notes today rather than participating.” He adds, turning his gaze directly to
Mallory. Her face darkens instantly.
“But-” She starts.
“No. You will watch.” He cuts in firmly. Hah. I bite back a smile. We don’t even have to heat this potion up. It’s simple, measured, stirred,
and bottled. Basically a mild warming draft. Something you can sip on when you’re chilled and it helps your body regulate temperature a little faster. It’s not magical enough to replace a coat in winter, but healers use it for people at risk of hypothermia to gently help them warm up safely. It’s actually kind of cool (pun intended). At first, people are still distracted by their faulty desks and chairs. There’s cautious testing, students lowering themselves carefully into seats, tapping surfaces suspiciously, nudging table legs with their feet. For a few blessed minutes, I’m forgotten. But that doesn’t last. Someone walks past my desk and casually kicks at my chair leg. Not hard. Just enough to be annoying. When they return to their own seat, their chair slides out from under them at the last second. They miss entirely
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Chapter 73 73- Never Let Him Steal Your Seat
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and land on the floor with a loud thud. There’s a pause. A few stifled laughs. Professor Matthews doesn’t even look surprised anymore. He clearly knows something is up with the Academy today. I stare straight ahead, pretending to be deeply invested in my measurements. Eventually, I need a small glass vial to decant my potion into. I rise from my seat and step toward the supply table at the front of the room. That’s when Rachael stands up. The girl who kept ‘dropping‘ her pen. She moves at the exact same time I do. And she’s holding a full container of potion. She isn’t subtle about it either. She angles herself directly into my path, gaze fixed forward like she’s pretending she doesn’t see me. She isn’t seriously about to try to ‘bump‘ into me. Is she? It would be stupid. Professor Matthews just made a whole speech about safety. Although, the last time someone tried something like this, I did end up hurt pretty bad. Maybe she thinks that’s worth it. Maybe she thinks she can time it right. Make it look accidental. Drench me. Laugh it off. I slow half a step. I could move out of the way. I could sit back down. I could avoid it entirely. But I want that bottle. And… I have a repelling spell to stress test. My skin still carries the faintest shimmer if I look closely enough. I can feel it too, like a gentle pressure around me. Elastic. Responsive. So I square my shoulders. And I keep walking.
Comments
Lisa McNew
love the Academy support!
7 days ago
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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.
