Horrendous wretch. With my newly discovered knack for teaching people manners, I decided to bewitch the blade to hover in the air just outside her reach. Turning back, I attempted to sound innocent when I instructed, ‘It will stay this way until you admit you’re rude and take your frustrations out on undeserving visitors.’
The miserable warden shouted something obscene, but I was long gone and on my way to Isaac’s office. Laughter bubbled in my throat as I imagined her struggle.
The corridor stretched on for what felt like an eternity, its polished wooden walls too tempting not to touch. It wasn’t nearly as embellished as the portal room, yet it was far more modest than my imagination had conjured. It was also unnervingly quiet for such a massive war school. Not what I’d expected at all.
At last, I reached it. Isaac's office. I knocked and waited but nobody answered. Then I plastered myself as close to the door as possible and took a long whiff to see if his scent lingered inside. It was something I had found myself doing a lot lately since my sense of smell was becoming stronger.
But either using my nose as a guide was leading me astray or… could he have forgotten about our training? One thing was certain: I wasn’t going back to the portal chamber anytime soon, which left one perfectly reasonable solution.
As I twisted the door handle, a scowl crept across my face. For a moment, I hoped it would be open, but a part of meexpected a challenge. Considering Isaac’s reclusive nature, I found it peculiar that he left it unlocked.
I slipped inside, remaining quiet as if it made a difference.
The space was homely and warm; bookcases as tall as the walls encapsulated the office and had been stocked with so many tomes my eyes struggled to settle on anything in particular. The luxurious mahogany wood created a cosy atmosphere that didn’t quite fit this place. So that’s where his woody scent had come from. Iron, wood and something sweet, I couldn’t pinpoint.
A framed photograph of five people rested on his desk. Isaac stood at one end, smiling, while two women embraced in the centre, with a man on either side of them.
‘My family,’ he said quietly, yet his voice carried through the room. My clumsy hands nearly dropped the photo frame, I saved it just in time to put it back as he neared his desk with a smirk. ‘You found my office, I see.’
‘A very pleasant portal warden directed me toward it.' A note of bitterness stuck to my voice that piqued his interest.
‘You portalled in?’ Isaac’s eyebrows quirked. ‘Lucricia doesn’t appreciate strangers.’
‘Yeah, I noticed. What a miserable—’
He assessed me. ‘Portal duty is a punishment for lesser crimes. She stabbed one of the students.’
She looked like the type to stuff somebody’s pet, but stabbing seemed right up her alley too. ‘Psychos aside, was there a reason you moved the session here?’
The swivel recliner groaned under his weight as he outstretched his hand toward the wall. ‘You kept complaining you know nothing about the Isles; take your pick of the books that will tell you everything there is to know,’ he said as pride sparkled in his bright eyes. ‘Besides, the academic year started again, so sometimes it might just be easier to meet here. Unless that’s a problem?’
‘Not a problem.’ My voice rose an octave as I imagined how unpleasant the other students must be. ‘Didn’t you get hired to train me in the shadow craft, though?’
‘I’ve researched what I could find on recovering from blood witch draining. I think it might take a while until your shadows recuperate.’
Hearing him confirm my suspicions stung. ‘Doesn’t that mean you’re off the hook? It’s not like you wanted to teach me anyway.’
‘I didn’t want to teach a pampered princess. Things changed,’ he sounded genuine.
Something about the confession tickled my pride.
‘Then you’re not as impartial to my charm as I thought,’ I joked, looking back to the first time we met and how I cussed him out.
He leaned back. ‘Never claimed to be, you menace. You have a way of being annoying in ways that humour me. Go figure.’
I chuckled. ‘Lies.’
‘Huh?’
‘You don’t have a sense of humour.’ I accused him, trying to keep a straight face. ‘My theory is your muscles take up so much oxygen, it doesn’t leave enough for your brain to function the way it’s designed to.’
Isaac looked stunned, struggling to get his words out. Crossing his arms over his chest, he flexed, twisting his mouth as though he were fighting a smile. ‘I’m yet to meet another person who feels as comfortable insulting me as you do.’
Was I being too much?
I didn’t think so, with how smug he was usually, he could use somebody giving him a slight reality check. Though it wouldn’t hurt to know where I stood. ‘Is that your way of saying I need to stop?’
‘No, quite the contrary, I find it amusing,’ he drawled, flashing his perfect teeth. Could a woman be jealous of a man’s beauty? He was too perfect. So polished and prepped.
