I look away, though only for a heartbeat. Because if I meet his gaze too long, I know he’ll read everything, my unease, my anger, the trembling heat of humiliation Sebastian forced into my skin, and the hollow dread of carrying a wand that refuses to answer me. Too much happened yesterday to be reduced to a tidy explanation. Too much I’m not ready to say aloud.
But Liam’s eyes are steady. Gentle. Knowing.
I swallow. “I just… I can’t walk into my first day here unprepared. Not after everything.” It isn’t the whole truth, but it is truth enough.
Liam studies me for another moment, long enough for me to feel the weight of his protective instincts sharpening. His jaw settles into a faint clench, the muscle beneath his cheek ticking with the subtle promise of action. The defensive line of his body shifts ever so slightly, as though placing himself between me and an invisible threat.
Whatever doubts he had vanish.
“All right,” he says at last, voice low but certain. “If you need to go, then we’ll go.”
Relief blooms through my chest, quiet, profound, almost painful for how swiftly it takes hold. Liam notices. A ghost of a smile touches his lips, softening his expression further.
“I would not mind going,” Theo says gently, tilting his head toward the sound of my voice. “I enjoy the mornings in Anvaris. The town wakes long before Vireldan does. You can hear the rune-smiths testing their forges, the chime of glass vials as the apothecaries unlock their cabinets, even the shopkeepers arguing over the day’s opening prices.” He breathes in, as though imagining it. “It’s louder than here, but in a way that feels… welcoming.”
There’s something deeply soothing about the way he speaks of sound, as though he sees the world through every vibration it leaves in the air. It eases something in me I didn’t realize had tightened.
Trevor smiles faintly at Theo’s sentiment, then straightens a bit, clearly eager to add his own perspective. “If you’re both going,” he says with careful brightness, “I’d be happy to join as well. I have always been rather fond of Anvaris in the morning.”
He clasps his hands behind his back as he continues, the corner of his mouth lifting. “And there is a small pub in town, the Willow Wisp. They serve a fae-brewed ale that is rather… legendary among students.”
Liam raises a brow. “Legendary how?”
Trevor’s smile widens, refined but undeniably amused. “Light as breath. Sweet at the start. Doesn’t sit in your stomach at all. It lifts your spirits without weighing you down.” He glances in my direction with a touch of mischief. “Some students even drink it before class to make their lessons more exciting.”
Theo lets out a quiet snort. “Exciting is one word. Lastterm two upper-years became convinced the sun was trying to communicate with them through Professor Elwick’s lectern.”
Trevor holds up a hand in mock defense. “I never claimed the ale encourages wise decisions, only enjoyable ones.”
Despite the knot of anxiety in my chest, I feel a small laugh slip free. Trevor’s smile deepens at the sound, and even Theo’s lips curve in that soft, contented way he has.
“I’ll send Sebastian a raven to let him know where I’ve gone,” Theo says mildly, reaching for the small silver clasp at his belt where folded parchment is tucked. “A morning outside the castle might do him good. It will certainly do me good.”
The moment Sebastian’s name leaves his lips, an involuntary roll of my eyes betrays me. Trevor catches it immediately. His brows lift in faint bewilderment, the movement small but unmistakably curious. He glances between Theo and me, clearly sensing tension he does not yet understand.
“I have some marigold powder I need to refill,” Liam announces suddenly, patting the pockets of his cloak. “Left the satchel with my things. I’ll be back in a moment.” Trevor steps after him, too quickly to be coincidence, leaning toward him with quiet words meant only for Liam’s ears. They disappear down the hallway before I can decipher even a syllable.
Theo shifts slightly, directing his attention fully toward me. “What did you say to Sebastian?”
The question lands soft, but its weight is unmistakable.
I clear my throat, fingers worrying the edge of my cloak. “You want the truth?”
“Preferably,” he replies, folding his hands neatly atop one another.
I draw a slow breath. “He called Imelda a pity… ‘fuck.’” The last word escapes in a whisper, barely audible even to myself. “Then offered to show me why she’s so enthralled with him. I told him something was wrong with him.” I exhale sharply. “Asked him what game he thought he was playing.”
Theo’s mouth presses into a thin, severe line, one that tells me he is far from surprised. Yet beneath the sternness, something else flickers. Understanding. Recognition. A knowing sort of resignation.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then, unexpectedly, the faintest chuckle slips from his chest.
My brows knit. “What… what is so funny?” My patience, never abundant around Sebastian, begins to fray.
Theo lifts his chin slightly, expression softening but not quite smoothing out the bewilderment etched into it. “I have simply never heard of Sebastian becoming so visibly rattled by someone. To think he was thrown so off-balance merely because you told him to ‘fuck off.’” His lips twitch, amused in spite of himself. “He made it sound as though you had dangled his deepest secret over a precipice. If this were truly about insult alone, Sebastian would have abandoned my friendship years ago, I have said far worse to his face.”
A knot coils low in my stomach. Frustration. Confusion. Something else I refuse to name.
“Then why was he so angry?” I ask. “Why toy with me the way he did?”
