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“And what's the deal with the antler floor?” Miles interjected critically.

“Maybe we should focus on the things we can classify,” Julie replied.

Desperately, I tried to focus on the old, framed, faded photographs on the walls, but my gaze kept wandering back to Miles on its own.

He stood upright, and there was something graceful about him. Unfortunately, everything about him was graceful. From the white shirt, which never fit neatly but still made him look good – as if he knew what two open buttons did to my stupid brain – to the black suit pants and black leather shoes. And, of course, the felt coat that ended halfway down his thighs and hugged his athletic upper body.

The tip of one of his white gold throwing knives peeked out of his pocket, glinting in the light, reminding me of the night he had licked my blood from the blade.

Instead of being disgusted, the butterflies now gathered in my stomach, fluttering their wings faster and faster.

I tried to push the memory away, gazing instead at his shaved chin and thick black eyelashes.

How could it be that my inner self allowed something so trivial to take center stage? It was as if it were searching for every tiny aesthetic detail about him that no one else would ever notice.

“There's only one place on campus where I've ever seen snakes,” I began, and before my rival could look at me again, I looked back at Bayla.

Miles started to move, and I forced myself to be reasonable.

“Alarik's office,” I said in a serious tone, and everyone looked at me again as if I had been invisible for the last ten minutes.

“We've been there a million times. Why should we go there again?” Miles grumbled.

He was now leaning against the doorframe, a habit he often displayed.

“It sounds like something happened there.” Julie was still scanning the invitation, as if there might be a hidden message somewhere between the lines.

I watched her run her fingers over the golden snake.

“A meeting. And now? He made it his office. Obviously. You're not likely to find any traces of the past there.”

Why was he so stubborn and so incredibly pessimistic? Right now, he reminded me of myself, and that alone bothered me.

Bayla seemed able to ignore it somehow and began to answer his question logically.

“We've been focusing on rummaging through his desk and all the drawers, but all the important information we have so far comes from books. And where in his office haven't we looked yet?” She gave Miles an expectant look. “In the books.”

“Bayla's right.” Larissa looked at Miles with a serious expression, and he seemed thoughtful. “We should go back there.”

Julie looked up from the card for the first time. “I have a feeling there’s more behind this.”

“Whatever it is, we have to go to Alarik’s office.” Larissa suddenly sounded impatient and looked at me as if she expected me to tear her apart.

Miles just laughed. “I'm sure the professor will welcome us with open arms and a glass of whiskey.”

Larissa and I sighed.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one frustrated by his behavior.

Bayla was the only one who seemed to be trying to suppress a smirk.

“No, seriously.” He raised his hands in front of him, gesturing. “He even said something about better security measures. Plus, Harlow is believed to have the campus bugged.”

“Those are just rumors,” Larissa snorted.

“She’s taking the hacker attack very seriously,” Miles said with a smirk.

I remembered the day when the hacker had struck for the second time and threatened Harlow.