He’s quiet for a moment, and I worry I’ve overstepped. But then he reaches across the table and gently takes the ring from me, holding it up to catch the afternoon light coming through the stained glass window by our table.
“She got sick when I was young,” he says softly. “I was about twelve, maybe thirteen. Some kind of wasting illness that the healers couldn’t cure. She was sick for almost two years before...” He trails off, jaw tight. “Pa tried everything. Every healer, every remedy. We even made a trip back to her tribe, to see if their shaman knew how to save her. But nothing worked. She was so tired at the end. She tried to hide it from me, but...” His broad shoulders rise and fall with a shrug.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He sets the ring down on the table between us. “It was just me and Pa after that. He threw himself into work, and I... I tried to be good. Tried not to cause trouble. Tried to make him proud, you know?” He lets out a breath. “Then Maeve’s mom came into our lives. Marceline. She’s been good for Pa—good for both of us, really. And Maeve...” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Maeve’s a pain in my ass, but she’s also the best sister I could ask for. She really helped me come out of my shell.”
“She cares about you,” I say softly. “Even if she pretends to be annoyed all the time.”
We both smile at that.
“Yeah.” He picks up the ring again, turning it over inhis large hands. “Ma used to wear this every day. After she died, Pa gave it to me. Said I should keep it safe, give it to someone special someday.” His hazel eyes find mine. “I’ve been carrying it around for so long, I think I forgot that was the plan. It just became mine, you know? A reminder of her.”
My throat feels tight. “She would be proud of you. For working so hard. Being the runeball captain. Your kindness. All of it.”
“You think?” He looks uncertain, younger somehow, like his inner child is still seeking that validation.
“I know,” I say firmly. “And I’m proud of you too.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, then warmth, then something that makes the butterflies in my stomach swirl into a tornado.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. Then, clearing his throat, he sets the ring down and straightens in his chair. “Okay. Let’s try this again. Walk me through the resonance amplification one more time, and I promise not to distract you.”
“You exist, therefore you distract me,” I mutter, but I’m smiling as I pick up the ring again.
He leans forward before I can get started, elbows on the table, and his voice drops lower. “What were you thinking about? When you lost focus?”
My cheeks flame with heat. “Nothing.”
“Lies.” His smile is teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, Brains. One of the many things I like about you.”
I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. “I was focused on the demonstration. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” He arches a brow.
“You’re very distracting,” I admit quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I was just thinking about Faunwood.”
“Oh.” His voice drops lower. “What about Faunwood?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You know what.”
“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”
I shake my head quickly, the movement so jarring that it sends my glasses slipping down the bridge of my nose. Though we’re tucked into a quiet corner, there are other students in the library, and this isn’t a conversation I want anyone overhearing.
Aric’s expression softens. “I’ve not been able tostopthinking about that night,” he says quietly. “About you.” He reaches across the table to take my hand, his thumb tracing little swirls onto my skin. “And you’re pretty distracting too. I’ve read the same paragraph in this textbook three times because I keep watching you instead.”
“Really?” I ask. I’m usually the one who blends into the scenery—I’d thought myself incapable of causing a distraction.
“Really.” He grins. “But we should probably actually study. I have that exam in Magical Theory and Application next week, and I really do need to pass it.”
“Right. Yes. Studying.” I pull my hand back reluctantly and try to refocus on my notes. My tutoring rules and guidelines have been completely abandoned at this point. “Where were we?”
“You were about to show me resonance amplification again. Without setting me on fire this time.”
“I didnotset you on fire.” I pick up one of his crumpled pieces of parchment and throw it at him. He catches it easily, laughing, and I can’t help but laugh too.
This is new—this ease between us, this playfulness. There’s something lighter about how we interact now, like we’ve stopped trying so hard to be careful around each other. It feels like Aric is starting to let me see the real him, and I’m trying my best to do the same.
