She let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking her head. “Well, Professor Selectively Applied Physics, don’t get in my way.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, falling into step beside her.
“So, what’s first on your agenda?”
“This morning, I am due to work with Ray Kingsley.”
“The biochemist?”
“Yes, we’re collaborating on plant metabolic pathways—specifically the regulation of photosynthesis under environmental stress.”
“Sounds interesting.”
She glanced at him with a smile that reached her eyes—genuine and quietly excited.
“It is. Ray’s usually buried in a project he says could change the health of the nation, so the fact that he was free this morning feels like a rare privilege.”
They began ascending the winding staircase of the old university building, its stone steps worn down by decades of scholars’ footsteps. Faint echoes of their shoes tapping against the floor mingled with the scent of polished oak lingering in the air, each turn of the staircase marked with plaques memorializing long-dead professors and benefactors.
Isla ran her fingers briefly along the handrail, glancing up as the filtered morning light streamed through stained-glass windows depicting scenes of ancient scientific discovery—alchemy, astronomy, anatomy.
His mind slipped back to a time when it was effortless—natural—to hold Isla in his arms. Back when reaching for her hand had been as instinctive as drawing breath. When the memory of that intimacy returned to him, the urge to close the distance between them tugged painfully at him. He stepped away instead, forcing his hands into his coat pockets.
“Any more thoughts on who attacked me last night?” Isla’s voice cut through his silence.
He noticed the faint tremble in her voice and saw her arms cross protectively around her middle as they now walked down the hallway. The fear was still fresh, still crawling beneath her skin. His jaw tensed, his fury reigniting at the thought of someone harming her.
“I’m afraid not,” he said, voice low. “But Harold’s looking into it. We won’t stop until we know who it was.”
“I did have one thought,” she offered, her tone uncertain.
“Oh?” He turned to look at her fully, gaze sharpening with interest.
They continued down the long hallway, the polished wooden floors creaking gently underfoot. Dust motes floated in the morning light that spilled through tall leaded windows.Glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls, displaying preserved botanical samples and faded anatomical drawings. A student carrying a stack of textbooks nodded as he passed.
“It might be nothing,” she continued, glancing toward a glass-paned laboratory door where a gas lamp flickered dimly. “But it did happen around the time my mark appeared, so I believe they may be related. During my lecture, one of my students—Jimmy—helped me hand out papers. I was trying to hide my wrist, but he was close. He may have seen it.”
Andrew nodded slowly, processing her words. Somewhere nearby, a phonograph played faintly from a professor’s office—an old waltz, distorted by the closed door.
“It’s worth looking into,” he said. “Even the smallest detail might matter.”
She gave a small nod, and for a moment, they walked in silence.
“Andrew ...” Isla hesitated, as if the words were tangled somewhere between her mind and tongue. He leaned in slightly, attentive.
“Yes?” He kept his voice soft, careful—like he was speaking to a skittish horse.
“Would you ... would you be willing to help me control my powers? Teach me how to summon, and all that ...”
Inside, Andrew wanted to leap for joy, shout from the rooftops. After two years of her sparring and rebuffing, she was finally askinghimfor help. Yet outwardly, he kept his cool, playing the careful game they’d both grown used to. No need to scare her off now.
“Why, Isla, after such a ...most intelligentlyphrased request, how could I refuse?” His voice carried a playful smirk.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips as she pushed open the laboratory door.
He couldn’t resist gently placing his hand on the small of her back as he followed her into the lab. He let his hand drop as she suddenly stopped—frozen. Had he been too forward?
She gasped, barely a whisper. “Ray.”
