AKE
I sit and watch as Lexi perches on the edge of her bed and talks to her mother on the phone. I try to give them a little space, leaning back in the chair by
her desk instead of hovering over her, but I can’t quite bring myself to leave her completely alone when she’s stressed like this. She is on edge, and so am I.
Her voice is quieter than usual, soft and uneven in a way that makes my jaw tighten. I can only hear her side of the conversation, but I don’t need the other
half to understand what is happening. She’s trying not to cry. Trying to sound calm so her mother doesn’t panic more than she already has. She’s failing. I
can see it in the way her shoulders keep hunching inward, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Her fingers twist in the fabric of the blanket beside her. Every few seconds she pauses, listening, and her expression flickers between relief and fresh anxiety depending on what her mother says. She hates worrying them. I was already unsure of her safety in this place, even before yesterday. Even when she was just another new student who hadn’t done anything wrong. Somehow everyone still found reasons to target her. It was like they simply couldn’t bear to leave her alone. Which makes sense now. Many species are drawn tto unicorns. Even among shifters it’s a story we grow up hearing. The rumours always said unicorns had a natural allure to them. Something instinctive. Something that made other creatures want to be close to them. Want to possess them. But being drawn to someone and being good to them are not the same thing. People wanted Lexi from the first moment they saw her, even if they didn’t know why. I remember it now, thinking back. The staring. The attention she drew everywhere she went. The way people seemed almost irritated by her existence when she didn’t immediately respond the way they expected. They wanted something from her. And when they couldn’t have it, they chose something else instead. They talked about her. Obsessed over her. Picked at her. Pushed her. Tried to force themselves into her life one way or another. Even if that meant making her miserable just so they could feel like they mattered to her story somehow. My hands tighten slowly against the arms of the chair. And now everyone knows what she is. Now the fascination won’t fade. Now the attention will only grow. Which means I’m no longer unsure about her safety here. I’m unsure about her safety everywhere. Lexi is rare. Rarer than anyone in this school realised. A unicorn. A creature people used to hunt into extinction. She is a precious treasure. People will covet that. That impulse is something I understand very well. But they can’t have her. My gaze drifts back to Lexi as she laughs weakly at something her mother says, wiping quickly at her eyes before the tears can actually fall. No. They can’t have her. She is MINE.
When Lexi gets off the phone, she is quiet, red–eyed and sniffling. The room feels heavier somehow, like the conversation drained what little strength she had left this morning. Her phone stays loosely in her hand for a moment before she sets it down on the bed beside her, staring at nothing. I move over and sit beside her. She forces a shaky smile for me when I do, the kind that tries to say I’m fine even when it clearly isn’t true. I reach an arm around her shoulders and tug her against my side without asking. I don’t think I can keep her close enough. The closer she is, the safer she is. The more distance there is between us, the more things can happen that I can’t stop. She leans into me easily, resting against my chest like she’s too tired to hold herself up properly anymore. I can feel the faint tremble in her breathing. I search for something to say. Something reassuring. Something helpful. Something that will make the situation feel smaller, more manageable. I come up empty. There isn’t anything I can say that changes the reality of what she learned this morning. No clever explanation. No easy solution. But silence feels worse. It doesn’t hurt to try.
“I just realised something.” I say softly. Lexi lifts her head slightly to look at me. Her eyes are still watery and red around the edges, her nose pink from
crying.
“Yeah?” She asks.
“You have gold hooves and a gold horn…” I say thoughtfully.
“Which means… You don’t need to paint your nails to match my horns.” I inform her. It isn’t a particularly good joke. Honestly it’s barely a joke at all. But Lexi laughs. A small sound at first, surprised and shaky. Then it grows. She laughs harder, leaning forward slightly as the sound spills out of her uncontrollably. Her shoulders shake. Tears run down her face again and she presses a hand to her mouth as if she can’t decide whether she’s laughing or crying. By the time she finally manages to breathe again, the laughter has turned fully back into tears. I pull her closet, folding her into my arms and smoothing my hand slowly through her hair.
“Everything is going to be messed up, Blake.” She croaks against my shoulder. I tighten my hold on her slightly.
“Not everything.” I tell her quietly.
“You still have me. And your parents. You still have your magic, your healing, and your books.” I pause, then add the part that I suspect will matter most to
her.
1/2
2:37 pm Pppp.
Chapter 94 94- Do Not Scratch Behind The Horns Without Permission
“There might be some frustrating things, but you saved that girl in your potions class. She might have died.” I remind her. Lexi goes still against me for a
moment, thinking about that. I can practically feel the shift in her mind as she turns the idea over.
“You really think so?” She asks tentatively.
“Yes.” I answer firmly. There’s no hesitation in my voice this time. Lexi stays leaning against me a little longer, breathing slowly, letting the weight of everything settle. Then she straightens her shoulders and wipes at her eyes, rubbing the tears away with the back of her hand. Good. She’s pulling herself back together. She’s going to be okay.
Eventually, Lexi falls asleep, though not before making me promise that I will return to my own room once she does. She makes me repeat it twice, like she doesn’t trust that I won’t try to sneak back in after she’s asleep. I’m hesitant to leave, and I say so, but she reminds me, patiently at first and then with increasing stubbornness, that her door will be locked by the Academy, that no one is going to get into her room, that I’ll be right next door, and that as much as she appreciates me being there… She still needs a little privacy. The word privacy is said very carefully, like she knows it’s something I’m not particularly good at respecting when I’m worried about her. I want to argue. There are at least ten different ways I could point out flaws in her reasoning. Locks can be bypassed. Windows can be broken. Walls can be breached if someone is determined enough. But eventually I stop myself. Maybe it’s better to give her a little more freedom now, a little more space, so that she feels less suffocated later when we’re in situations where I really do need to stay close to her. If she feels like I’m trapping her, she’ll start trying to escape it, and that would be worse. Still, I’m wary. I wait until her breathing has slowed and deepened before I stand. She looks peaceful when she sleeps, like all the tension and fear just drains out of her. For a moment I hesitate, watching her, making sure she’s actually settled before I move toward the door. As I step into the hallway, I pause and glance up toward the ceiling. Where am I even supposed to look when I talk to the Academy? Lexi talks to it like it’s a person. Like it’s standing somewhere nearby. But to me it’s just… Walls. Floors.
Doors.
“You need to inform me if anyone comes anywhere near this door.” I order.
“Or her window. Or just… Anywhere near her at all. Is that clear? It’s for her own safety.” I say firmly. For a second there’s no response. Then I hear the heavy, final sound of Lexi’s door locking behind me. I suppose that’s as much of an answer as I’m going to get. I walk back to my own room and step inside, but I can’t bring myself to close the door completely. Instead, I leave it cracked open just enough that I can see straight down the hallway. From here I can
watch her door. If anyone comes near it, I’ll see them. And they will regret it.
Comments
Lisa McNew
LOVE how Blake tried to cheer her up, live saving reminders and nail polish!
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.
