Isla nearly jumped out of her skin. George had appeared at her side, watching Andrew with a broad grin. Her heart lurched before she snapped at him, “George—you scared me half to death.”
“Sorry,” he said, his kind eyes flicking to her with a flash of regret. Then, turning back to the spectacle above, his tone lightened again. “But you have to admit—those moves were impressive.”
“Indeed.”
Andrew descended and approached them, stopping before he stepped off the ice board—calm as a man about to hand out exam papers to his students.
Isla rushed to him. He smiled, as though expecting her to fling herself into his arms again and repeat their earlier passionate kiss. And while that idea wasn’t entirely unappealing, she swatted him hard in the chest instead.
“Hey! What was that for?” He rubbed the spot, though his blue eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Next time you shove me off a building, Andrew, you’ll get far worse than a slap.”
Behind them, George let out a chuckle.
Andrew spread his hands, all innocence. “I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“And that brings me to my second point,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she meant. “You do not get to throw me off buildings in the name of safety so you can fight alone. Fromnow on, we face things together. Always.” Her voice trembled, betraying the fear she’d fought to hide. “I thought I’d lost you, Andrew. I can’t go back to that lonely life.”
His expression softened instantly, the teasing melting into something gentler. He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Isla, my darling. Even if you lost me in this life, I would find you in every other.”
“But that would leave a really long life ahead of me, filled with loneliness. Even if we found each other again in another life ... it would still feel too long to wait if I lost you now.”
He kissed the top of her hair.
“I know. I feel the same but whatever happens next, let’s face it together. I can’t guarantee the outcome, but I will fight beside you every step of the way for the opportunity to love you in every life, for as long as possible.”
Isla gave a shaky nod. She was glad he was safe, yet the fear lingered—fear of loneliness, of losing him. Could her heart bear it if she did? She loved him, but could she truly open herself up all the way, holding nothing back, trusting that she would find him again and again—that she was Fated? That even if they were lost to one another now, would she truly never be alone because he would always find her?
Footsteps pounded behind them. George and Andrew spun, green and blue light flickering in their respective palms, braced for another fight. But Edmund’s deep voice cut through the tension, and they quickly snuffed out their Arts. He strode toward them, Juliette half jogging at his side, her shorter steps scrambling to keep pace with his long strides.
“Quick,” Edmund said, his tone clipped. “Juliette and I restrained three of the remaining four men, but one escaped andsent a signal. More are on the way—headed straight for us after witnessing your little ice-board display, Andrew.”
Juliette smirked despite her ragged breath. “Nice moves there ... Captain Snowflake.”
“Come this way.” George limped ahead, opening a door and ushering them into the student dorms, guiding the four of them through shadowy corridors.
A figure emerged ahead from one of the side doors, his palms glowing white as he shut the wooden door without having to touch it—so sudden it was as though he’d stepped out of the stone wall itself. The young man stood pale and rigid in the dark passage, the moonlight from an arched window slicing across him, leaving half his face drowned in shadow, half bathed in silver. The effect was uncanny—part scholar, part specter. His wide, hollow eyes only sharpened the impression of something haunted, something not quite of this world.
Edmund moved in a blur, seizing the boy by the collar and slamming him against the wall. Lightning flickered and hissed along Edmund’s arm, crawling down toward his clenched fist, ready to strike.
“What’s a student doing out of bed at this hour?” Edmund’s voice was a low growl, thunderous and dangerous. The air around him hummed with energy, the charged scent of ozone cutting through the old dusty smell of the dormitory.
“Jimmy?” Isla’s voice was shaky. Her student looked undone, frightened, and not just because a behemoth of a man held him at lightning point. Something was terribly wrong.
His eyes flicked to hers, and in them she saw both relief and sorrow.
“Professor ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he said, his tone unsteady.
“Know what?” Andrew’s voice was sharp, cutting through the shadows.
Jimmy swallowed. “I was part of a study group in the biochemistry department—Professor Kingsley’s department. His colleague, Professor Davies, was our tutor. He ... he said you’d stolen Professor Kingsley’s notes. That you’d only gotten this job because you cheated. That as a woman you didn’t deserve to be here. He described a journal and told me to watch for it since I was in your class. Then—on the day of the storm, when you asked me to hand out papers—I saw it on your desk, so I told him.”
Isla’s stomach twisted.
Jimmy’s voice dropped lower, shame threading every word. “At the time I believed him. I believed you didn’t deserve to be a professor. My brother had applied for this position and didn’t get it. He was the smartest man I had ever known. I was angry—angry that he’d been overlooked, angry that maybe Davies was right and you didn’t belong here. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Edmund’s grip on Jimmy slackened, though sparks still snapped faintly around his hand.
