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We follow her through the doors and down the quiet hallway before slipping into her classroom. She doesn’t utter a word at all until we’re secured in her office and the lock is in place behind us.
“I have a class in a few moments. How can I help?” She rounds her desk but doesn’t take a seat as she braces her fingertips on the wood top instead.
“We need to try and get to the compound. I have a plan for the wards.”
“What plan?”
I shrug. “Due to extreme bullshit that keeps happening, I’m going to keep that tidbit to myself for now. Brax is still having no luck getting to the compound via a gateway, but we’ve been offered a vague direction without one.”
“From whom?”
I shake my head. She’s focusing on the wrong details. “I can do this without you, Professor. I’m here, offering you an in because a part of me feels like you deserve a chance to help save us all.”
My words hang in the air, floating like dust as she blinks at me.
“You’re asking me to trust in you,” she finally offers, folding her arms nervously around her waist, and I nod.
“I am. You don’t have to, that’s your choice, but I think we all know nothing is going to end well here. The decision we have to make is whether we’re going to fall freely with whatever comes our way or take fate into our own hands and ride the storm.”
My breaths come in short bursts, my emotions flooding my veins as they rise to the surface, and she continues to stare at me like I’ve got something on my face.
I haven’t even question-checked her or made sure she is who I think she is, and that only makes me more annoyed at myself. I haven’t said too much, but I’m quite firmly placing myself on the other side of the war to the one who believes himself to be my master.
Clearing my throat, I’m ready to leave when she strides purposefully back around the desk to stand in front of me. Brax shifts protectively at my side, placing himself between us, but I pat his arm, letting him know that I’m okay.
“You’re right. This isn’t going to end well. I wasn’t raised a quitter but I’ve been foolish enough to act like one since the day that man arrived. I knew there was something wrong then, but every day that I spend apart from my familiar is another painful reminder of what my future could look like, and I refuse.” There’s a tremble to her shoulders, revealing her nerves, but she still stands tall, adding strength to her words. “I refuse,” she repeats, and I nod. “Tell me where to meet you once classes are done for the day, and I’m at your service.”
ELEVEN
RAVEN
Seconds twist into minutes, which meld into hours. All the while, I’m ready to tear my hair out, eager for the end of the day to come. Yet it laughs at me, forever in the distance as the day drags into the longest ever recorded in history.
My ink scratches along my parchment, taking all of the notes as I gaze off into the distance, even less present now than I was in the first class of the day.
Leila has breezed in and out of my self-made bubble throughout the day with Grave on her arm. On one hand, it’s a relief she’s not quite under her father’s thumb right now. Although, I’m sure he’s got plenty of watchful eyes on her, making Fitch even more unpredictable than ever, in my opinion. Yet it’s Grave’s recent dedication to Leila that causes the smallest stutter in my thoughts.
We may not know Fitch’s motives or what side of the faint line he stands on, but I feel like I have a better understanding of him than Grave. Maybe it’s because I’m untrusting. I don’t know. But an icky feeling twists in my gut when I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s older than us, so he’s not in our classes, but he seems to be waiting at every door when time is called by the professors.
Sighing, I roll out my tightening shoulders and shake him from my thoughts. As much as he’s making me question him, his presence doesn’t rank high enough on my list of to-dos, and I really have to prioritize what I let myself get stressed out about. He’s not one of them. Yet.
Professor Trigwell mutters about the plant in her hand, drawing me a little more to the present, but the information continues to go straight over my head. Nothing has stuck in my mind all day. Not a single class, and now, as we edge toward the end of the academy day, I’m getting antsier to get out of here.
As if sensing my thoughts, Trigwell plops the plant pot down on her desk, mumbling under her breath before tilting her head up to look at us. “Class is dismissed.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I’m on my feet and out of the door with Brax hot on my heels in less than five seconds. There were a few grumbles along the way, complaints of my barging past people in my mission to get out of there, but I don’t give a fuck.
Brax nods at me as we head down the hallway, reaching for my hand as we make our way outside. Instead of taking the path toward the house like we usually would, following the rest of the students, we veer to the right, heading for the one spot that’s been calling out to me all day.
The Gauntlet.
Anticipation swirls in my veins, quickening my pace until the arena comes into view. Once at the main entrance, we stop, glancing back to see if Professor Figgins is on her way. It’s no surprise that she’s not here yet, it will likely take her a few more minutes to not look suspicious, and I don’t mind waiting a minute or two.
Turning to look through the open archway into the Gauntlet, a shiver runs down my spine. The first time we were led here feels like yesterday and a million years ago, all at once.
“Do you remember the first time we were brought here?” I murmur, still clinging to Brax’s hand. “It doesn’t feel that long ago,” I add, the taste of worry still lingering along my skin from then as I stare down into the depths of the arena.
“It wasn’t,” Brax states, and I hum.
