“I made sure she felt every agonizing second of it. She was so easy to break, it barely took anything at all.” He leaned in, relishing the sight of Tehvan’s hands curling into fists, a desperate attempt to hide his fury. “And you know what? I expected more of a fight. But she folded like she was made to be broken.”
Tehvan’s hand shot out, grabbing Symond by the collar and yanking him off his feet. Symond’s back thudded against the wall hard enough to rattle the stones, the chill of the rough surface biting through the fabric of his thin tunic. Tehvan's face consumed his vision. No longer the calculated mask of authority but a revelation of primal fury. The rage emanating from him charged the very air, a palpable force that crackled in the narrow space between them.
“You’d better be bluffing. If I find out you touched her…” Tehvan’s voice was a razor’s edge, the kind that could slice through lies. “I will dismantle you, Symond. I have connections—powerful ones—within the Empire. They can ensure you lose your precious apprenticeship, and you’ll find yourself back here, discarded like a broken tool, left to fester as nothing more than a ward.”
Symond’s bravado crumbled in a heartbeat, replaced by a chill that coiled into his marrow. He had braced himself for anger, perhaps a hollow threat, but this, this was different. Tehvan was holding power, raw and damning, the kind that could obliterate everything he’d clawed his way through to survive. Everything. “I… I didn’t do anything,” he stammered. “I just scared her, that’s all.”
With a final shove, Tehvan flung him away, sending Symond reeling to the side. Tehvan turned on his heel, heading straight for the door to the girls’ wing. But before he reached it, Gerard stepped in his path, blocking his way with a lazy smile.
“Now, now, Professor,” Gerard drawled, holding up a hand. “Thorn gave me strict orders. No one’s allowed to see her, especially you.”
Tehvan’s eyes burned with a fury that would melt iron. He took a step closer to Gerard, his teeth bared, hands ready to shove the man out of the way. “Move aside.”
Gerard’s grin only grew more mischievous, clearly relishing this moment far too much. “Oh, come on, Tehvan,” he chimed, his voice lilting like a playful tune. “Orders are orders. Thorn was quite adamant about this. You wouldn’t want to cross him, would you?”
Symond noticed Tehvan’s hands twitching at his side, as if he were seconds away from striking Gerard. “This isn’t over,” he spat, his eyes locking onto Symond with a smoldering intensity, a silent vow of vengeance glimmering within their depths, before spinning on his heel and storming away.
Gerard watched him walk away, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth. He turned toward Symond, delivering a robust clap on the back, as if they had just emerged victorious from a fierce battle. “Two shows in one night, what a stroke of luck for me,” he quipped, a sly grin playing on his lips.
Symond forced a smile, though his hands were shaking. He shrugged off Gerard’s touch, turning away before his fear could show. The image of Tehvan’s eyes, the raw, unfiltered fury in them, stayed with him. He’d wanted revenge, wanted to see Elora and Tehvan suffer. And he had. But as he walked away, a sick, hollow sensation settled in his gut.
What if I’ve just thrown my freedom away for fifteen minutes of revenge?
Chapter 12
Elora
Elora hadn’t slept. She couldn’t. From the moment Symond left, she hadn’t moved from her curled position in the corner of Arria’s bed. Her whole body locked in place. She hugged her knees to her chest, her lungs barely pulling in enough air. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers digging into the rough blanket as if it would anchor her in the room, in the present, and not in the horrible memory of what had happened.
He has been taking every punishment that should have been mine.The words twisted in her mind, a toxic echo that ensnared her thoughts. She was unable to stop replaying it, unable to forget the look on Symond’s face when he said it, the burning animosity, the pain she hadn’t been prepared to see. Thorn must be lying to him. It made little sense. Why would Thorn do that? Why would he let someone else take her punishments? It had to be some sick manipulation, like another twisted game Thorn was playing.
But if it was true…
A knot formed in Elora’s stomach. If it was true, if Thorn hadn’t lied, then she actually understood Symond’s rage. He had every right to hate her, to resent her. She hadn’t asked for protection, for Tehvanto shield her from the consequences the others faced. But that didn’t matter. The fact remained: shehadbeen protected, guarded from the pain, from the harsh realities of Thorn’s punishments, while Symond took the brunt of it all.
She could see it now; his anger wasn’t random. It wasn’t irrational lashing out. No, it was exacting a debt she hadn’t even known she owed. That thought hit her harder than anything he’d said. And the worst part was that, deep down, she couldn’t even blame him. How could she?
Her vision blurred as the shame curled tighter around her, pressing down on her ribs, suffocating her.What can I even say? What could I possibly do?The questions twisted painfully in her mind, but the answer eluded her. All she could feel was the crushing certainty that nothing she said or did would make it right. And maybe she deserved that.
She had no right to be sorry for herself. No right to push back—what was the point? Symond had shattered for her sake. Not a single apology or gesture of contrition would ever piece him back together.
∞∞∞
The hours dragged on, blending together in a blur of silence and solitude. Elora was a prisoner in her own space, only granted the briefest reprieve to answer nature’s call, her every move scrutinized by the hawkish gaze of a guard.
She pressed her forehead against the chilled glass of the window, her breath creating small clouds that blurred her view of the courtyard below. Students gathered in lively clusters, their laughter echoing through the air as they exchanged joyous hugs. It was beautiful out, the sun shining, no cloud in sight. The perfect last day compared to the usual dark clouds that hung over every singleperson, no matter the weather. The day commanded freedom for all of them, besides her.
Rowan and Alfie chatted by the fountain, their exhilaration unmistakable. They looked up and caught sight of her in the window, and their radiant smiles faded. They offered her a faint, sorrowful wave. It was unmistakably pity; the emotion flickered in their gaze like a dying flame. A delicate shard within her heart splintered as she lifted her hand in a feeble wave. At least they weren’t forgetting about her, yet.
She scanned the throng, her eyes flitting over faces she recognized, all the while searching for Tehvan. Just a glimpse of him, even from afar, might bring her a touch of solace. But he wasn’t there. Instead, her gaze fell upon Symond, languidly poised at the edge of the courtyard, only half-buried in the shadows of the tall stone archways that ran along the building leading to the labs. He wasn’t mingling, didn’t join the crowds of people laughing and celebrating their success. Granted, he never had been the lively type. Instead, his intense eyes locked onto her window, piercing through the distance and boring straight into her soul.
Elora pressed her hand to her mouth, her fingers shaking uncontrollably as she battled the queasy sensation rising within her. The sight of him standing there, watching her so intently, made her skin crawl. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, silent and still. But that was enough. Enough to dredge up the waves of powerlessness that engulfed her, to mirror the self-loathing he had so effortlessly instilled in her in that moment.
She could still feel his hands gripping her, bruising her, pinning her down. Her head still throbbed from him shoving her against the wall, however many times, she couldn’t remember. But worst of all, she still tasted him–the bitter, metallic tang of his spit on her tongue.It was nauseating. The memory twisted her stomach and bile surged to the back of her throat, but she held it down.
Him smacking her, fine. Spewing his hate and loathing for her, nothing she hadn’t heard before. But why spit in her mouth? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like how helpless it made her feel, and how utterly intimate it was.
Where are you, Tehvan?Her gaze darted around the courtyard, searching for him, for that familiar figure that always showed up when she needed him most—but there was nothing.
