Kelly made a face. “I don’t want to see a stuffy university. Look, there’s a chocolate shop. Can we go there?”
“Kelly, people don’t come to Oxford to eat chocolate?—”
“Yikes, twenty quid for a walking tour?” Flynn frowned at the city walks brochure. “And there’s not even a pint at the end?”
“We don’t need a walking tour,” Corbin snapped, snatching the brochure out of his hands. “Follow me.”
I glanced at Flynn, who lifted an eyebrow. “What’s got his knickers in a twist?”
“You know what. Stop being so bloody insensitive.” I grabbed mine and Corbin’s backpacks and chased after him. “Come on, you guys. We’d better not keep our tour guide waiting.”
I love Oxford.
Corbin spent the morning marching us down cobbled alleys and through beautiful college courtyards. Around every corner was another medieval building or gorgeous Victorian facade covered with creeping wisteria. Tourists crowded down Broad Street, ducking in and out of the tiny shops selling books, academic dress, teapots, and Alice in Wonderland souvenirs. Cars were limited in many areas of the central city, and the whizzing bicycles made the whole place feel collegiate and timeless. Enormous stone gates marked off the different colleges of the university – Corbin explained that there were thirty-eight in total, and each one was like a tiny institution unto itself. When you joined the university, you also joined a college, and that was where you lived, dined, and took your classes. Because it was summer, visitors could look in on some of the colleges, and Corbin snuck us into an enormous one called Christ Church, which even had its own cathedral.
“This is amazing,” Kelly gasped as we walked into an enormous, dark-panelled dining hall with a high, vaulted ceiling and tables set with glowing lamps and shimmering silver. “It looks like the dining room in Harry Potter.”
“That’s because the author was inspired by this room,” Corbin mumbled, scuffing his boots across the floor. “It was also the seat of Charles I’s parliament during the English Civil War.”
“It’s beautiful.” I squeezed his hand. “Imagine eating meals here every night, surrounded by other students all talking about what they learned that day.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Corbin grumbled. “The food is inferior to Rowan’s cooking.”
He meant more than he was saying. This place must carry all sorts of memories of his dad, and maybe something more…a life he could have had. I wanted to say something comforting, but Flynn was calling me. “Look at this, Einstein,” Flynn jabbed a finger at one of the many portraits on the walls. “Your namesake used to hang out here.”
The portrait and plaque described a visit Albert Einstein made to Christ Church College when he was in hiding from the Nazis. My heart raced as I scanned some of the other names on the walls. So many famous scientists and thinkers had walked these halls, eaten mediocre dinners at these long tables, learned and lectured and invented and thought here.
It all looked and sounded so magical. My chest panged as I thought wistfully of the MIT acceptance letter still hidden at the bottom of my suitcase back at Briarwood. Even if I had the money to pay my tuition – since the fae screwed up my scholarship – I couldn’t go back to the States until the fae situation was under control, if it ever would be.
Plus, going to MIT meant leaving the guys. My heart ached at the thought of it.
But I’d always intended to go to college. Getting my degree and joining the space program was my dream, and I hadn’t considered until this very moment what being the High Priestess of the Briarwood Coven meant for that dream. I glanced over at Corbin, at the haunted look in his eyes when he looked up at the spires. I could have been looking at my future.
He deserves more than this, more than Briarwood. And so do I. But how can we protect the gatewayandhave a life?
Corbin’s next stop was a tiny Saxon tower where we clambered up a narrow spiral staircase to emerge on a windy roof overlooking the city’s dreaming spires. Corbin pointed out different sights and more of the colleges, including Merton College where his dad taught. He glanced at his phone.
“Only one more stop, and then we have to go,” he said.
He dragged us past more quaint shops and through sprawling university courtyards with signs ordering everyone to keep off the lawn (a warning Flynn ignored, earning us a stern warning from a college porter), to a foreboding building that dominated an entire city block.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Thatis the Bodleian Library. It’s one of the largest academic libraries in the world, housing over twelve million books. The majority of the library’s archives are stored in tunnels and caves underground. Anyone who wants to gain admission to the library has to recite an oath not to damage any of the books or smoke tobacco inside.”
“Bor-ring!” Flynn yawned. “It’s time for a pint.”
I glared at him. Couldn’t he see how much this place meant to Corbin, how much he needed the distraction? But Flynn was, as usual, totally oblivious.
He doesn’t need any of us,I realised. Not in the same way Rowan, Corbin, Arthur, or even Blake rely on the coven.Flynn’s here for the adventure and the sex, nothing else.
And so what? He had a right to be here on his terms. Flynn could do what he wanted – it shouldn’t bother me, but it bothered me heaps.
Corbin glanced at his watch. “I wanted to show you inside but we don’t have time. We have to go.”
“We’ll see you guys at the apartment for dinner,” Arthur squeezed Corbin’s shoulder. “Good luck, mate.”
Rowan didn’t say a word, but his eyes swept over Corbin, saying everything for him. Corbin was the one who stepped forward and embraced Rowan, holding him close for a moment longer than was strictly friendly. Arthur’s lifted an eyebrow at me, and I nodded. Kelly glanced around Arthur’s shoulder, but her expression was dark.
