CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ARKEN
Good fucking gods. Why am I even here?
It was only a couple days into this awkward attempt to carry on with daily life: me, returning to my studies, and Kieran, resuming his normal responsibilities with the Elder Guard.
The last week or so of frantic and frivolous fervor had felt like a fever dream, and though I knew the axis ofmyworld had been irrevocably altered in a matter of days, the rest of the realm had continued on, bustling about with business as usual.
As it turned out, there was more in this life for Kieran and I to do than simplyeach other,no matter how petulant I was currently feeling about that.
Four more hours.
At least this return to normalcy didn’t include plans to return to my own bed any time soon. I had a lunch break and one more lecture after this, and then I would be back in his arms. Four hours, and then I could return to our own private domain—where all was right in the world, and everything made sense.
“The limitations of human arcana have been studied extensively over the years, and while most theories purport that…”
This was a topic that would usually have me enraptured, hanging off Scholar Sykes’ every word. It was a subject I very wellshouldhave been paying attention to, and not just for the sake of my fastidious notetaking habits. This was the whole reason I was here, was it not? To delve deeper into arcane theory, to dig into the rare and ancient knowledge stored within these walls, in hopes of better understanding what made me such an anomaly.
And yet the compulsion that had driven me to Sophrosyne in the first place had been rather quiet as of late, my urges to research and learn now content to simmer while other, more compelling discoveries kept me occupied.
You’re being absurd, Arken.
That was Amaretta’s voice, not my own—but I didn’t disagree with my mentor’s omniscient specter. I knew this was ridiculous, and that I was a fool to waste any of this time—the invaluable knowledge granted through the finest education this realm had to offer.
The self-awareness wasn’t doing much for me. I found it to be more of a burden than a blessing, truth be told.
Something, something, ignorance is bliss.
I was hardly wanting for bliss, though. I had been drowning in it lately, and I could think of little else. And thus, here I was, forty-five minutes deep into a two-hour lecture, quill in hand but inkwell untapped.
The parchment before me was as blank as Percy’s limpid gaze—the heir who was, regrettably, assigned seating next to me in Arcane Theory this quarter. The young Lord of Gales wasn’t paying much attention, either—preferring to create miniature whirlpools in his inkwell and abusing his Air arcana to flickfolded-up parchment back and forth with Cypress Glass on the other side of the room. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one retaining fuck-all from this presentation.
Oh gods. I have something in common with Percival Zephirin.
It would be one thing if I were still struggling with what had happened to me in the Wyldwoods. Both the scholars and my peers were giving me a wide berth—even Percy and his sycophants withheld their typical snide commentary in my presence. If only my lack of academic ardor was a lingering side effect from my brush with death. That, at least, would be a socially acceptable excuse for my behavior.
Logic would suggest that I had every reason to detach and disassociate—that the vicious scars the dark creature tore through my torso would be more than enough to leave me haunted and struggling to return to form.
But the truth was that if it weren’t for those scars granting me a physical reminder each morning as I dressed for the day, I may very well have forgotten all about that deadly daemon’s attack by now.
Far, far more important things had come to pass since that nightmare somehow delivered me into a dream.
Four more hours.
Though admittedly, I did have to wonder—were it not for that violent night forcing us both to play our hands, would Kieran and I have ever crossed the line?
Would we have eventually given in to this? Or would I have spent the rest of my life never even knowing what it truly means to live?
Four more hours.
Four more stupid, irritating, arduous hours before Kieran was supposed to get off shift, and I would be wrapping up myfinal lecture of the day. Four more hours until I could get that man where he belonged: naked and in my bed.
Fucking Hel, the mere thought of it had my cheeks heating, muscles tightening as I pressed my thighs together, torrid visions from the last few days dancing through my mind. I truly didn’t know how I was expected to focus on the inane details of modern arcane theory, not when my most recent memories left me panting and breathless.
“…Miss Asher?”
Shook from the reverie, my gaze snapped up to meet that of my educator, a bemused expression on his face. To be fair, I was usually a rather active participant in this course.