But now, the beast had smelled blood. There was something precious at stake now. Histurukhad never cared about rank within the pride, had wanted to roar just to be heard and fight to claim a modicum of respect through sheer strength. All that predatory, belligerent desire now narrowed onto one being, one goal.
Pity the one who catches its gaze.
Soren didn’t realize he was moving until he heard the crunch of dried pine needles beneath his toes. He looked down at them, surprised to see his feet following the path of the others toward the school.
We can’t,he insisted,she won’t accept it, we’ll scare her.He couldn’t bear to see her frightened of him. The sting of rejection would hurt, of course, but to see fear in her eyes…no, no, he wouldn’t allow it.
The hunter who does not hunt goes hungry.
Oh, now histurukwas suddenly wise, speaking like hisabbatin sagely idioms.
He would’ve snorted in exasperation had the school not come into sight.
There was no stopping his feet, although he was able to slow his pace to ensure he was the very last to enter. His thundering heart jumped into his throat as he slipped just inside the larger of the two classrooms.
Packed with adults, there was hardly any room left; mercifully, the windows had been opened to allow for air, and those closer to the front and middle had decided to sit. That gave those in the back like him, who’d claimed a patch of wall to lean against, a view of the front of the room with its large chalkboard.
And pretty schoolteacher.
It also gave her a good view of everyone in the room, including him.
Despite being one of twenty in the room, Soren’s appearance was noted by all. Diar smirked at him from across the room, elbowing Akila to get his attention. A few peeked over their shoulders to spy him, only to whisper to their neighbor.
Miss Maeve had been speaking with Andreen, but as Soren settled his shoulders against the wall, her gaze locked on him. She regarded him with curiosity, her fine brows arched.
Ibás,she was even prettier than he remembered.
Rather than up in a fillet, her hair laid on one shoulder in a loose plait. Her cheeks were rosy and lips pink, her eyes bright with the liveliness of the group.
At least that light didn’t dim when she spotted him.
Soren let out the breath he’d been holding since leaving the pub.
The lesson was, he assumed, both educational and entertaining. Miss Maeve soon had them all laughing, and they began the lesson seeing each of their names written out in Eirean letters.
If someone asked him afterward what the lesson had been about, Soren would’ve been able to tell them the exact slope of Maeve’s shoulders, how her eyes weren’t quite fully brown but hazel and shifted color with the light, and when she smiled, the right side of her mouth lifted half a moment before the left.
Soren learned everything and nothing that afternoon.
Maeve could command a room of adults as adeptly as she did children, it seemed. Every person there hung on her every word, even those already mated. She won considerable favor by writing out their names for them to see.
Although he didn’t believe it, Soren’s beast obsessed over whether she took special care with their name.Look how she lingers on my letters.
The thought was as silly as it was ridiculous, and Soren was grateful for his pelt hiding the blush burning his cheeks. He was far too old to be thinking such things. Or care that not only did she not meet his gaze but seemed to be actively avoiding it.
We’re staring too much,he warned histuruk.
Wewanther to look.
As it was the first lesson, it didn’t last terribly long. Or at least, Soren didn’t think it’d been that long, even if dusk was settling by the time Maeve finished explaining vowels and consonants. She concluded the lesson by passing around a bucket full of thin sticks already cut and shaped like the styluses Kiri used to practice his own writing.
“We unfortunately don’t have enough wax boards for everyone to practice,” Maeve explained as she walked around the room with the bucket. “So for now, please practice holdingthe stylus and moving your wrist.” She made a point to hold out the bucket to Soren and his neighbor with her head turned away, her free hand swooping through the air to demonstrate the motion she’d shown them before.
Once everyone had their tool and Maeve thanked them for attending, class adjourned. A hearty round of applause went up for their teacher, along with a few whistles.
“Oh, Miss Maeve, we’ve kept you too long,” Andreen fretted. “It’s already getting dark.”
Soren’s ears—as well as about a dozen other pairs—perked up.
