“The Noctryn leadership was tasked with finding out who took both. All of the first-year Veils were interrogated. I was luckyenough to be interrogated by Kingston,” he says sarcastically, rocking back in his chair.
He has my full attention. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.
“It wasn’t pleasant to say the least, and I was introduced up close and personal to his interrogation skills. For a first-year, he was proficient. I’ll give him that.” He chuckles darkly.
A first-year? That can’t be right.
“I thought he was a major. How was he a first-year last year?”
Ambrose dips his chin in acknowledgment.
“He is a major. He’s also a second-year now. He skipped the captain rank entirely because he excelled at the dark arts on a level that hasn’t been seen in a long time.” He uncrosses his arms, leaning onto the table to look me dead in the eye. “As a first-year, I had absolutely no training on how to block someone from entering my thoughts. He saw things I’m not particularly proud of and wouldn’t willingly share with anyone. Let alone him,” he states. “It was violating, and he hasn’t let me forget the things he discovered since.”
That sounds an awful lot like being assaulted. “Did you know something about the disappearances?”
“No. But I knew enough about other things to give him leverage over me that he keeps tucked away in his back pocket.”
I rest my face in my hands as I stare at him. I know him like the back of my hand. I also know he’s not being entirely honest. He’s being evasive and giving me partial truths, but I’ll let him have it.
This time.
“Thanks for sharing this information with me. I’m still pissed you’re keeping other secrets, but thank you for trusting me with this much.” I extend an arm out, holding up the pinky on my right hand as a symbol of a temporary truce.
His eyes roam over my face. “Some secrets have to be kept. To protect those who don’t know they need it.” He wraps his larger pinky around my smaller one.
Upperclassmen slowly trickle in, but I haven’t seen any other first-years yet.
The dark skies outside are beginning to lighten. Slivers of light beam through the windowpanes, meaning the sun has risen and we’re seeing the most of it we’re going to.
The trial results will be posted soon. They get posted before the start of the first period.
We’ll get our schedule later in the day. Around this time tomorrow, I’ll be getting ready for my first class! Excitement bubbles in my chest. This is really happening.
Ambrose’s strong hands wrap around mine, our pinkies still interlocked. His calloused palms rub against my softer ones. I’ve always loved his hands. The way they’re so much bigger than mine, the veins that pop out on the back, and the hardened calluses from weaponry training. This man has seriously caused me to develop a hand fetish.
I envision those very same hands wrapped around my throat as he pins me to the nearest wall, finally devouring me in all the devious ways I’ve imagined. It would be rough, unapologetic, and years in the making.
I run my tongue along my upper lip, as my mouth suddenly feels very dry.
His icy-blue eyes follow the movement, falling to my lips.
A loud announcement over the speakers breaks the moment.
Results are being posted in the halls.
“You ready for this?” he asks, clearing his throat and pulling his hands away.
An emptiness settles over me.
Not at all.
Chapter twelve
There’s a small crowd gathered already.
The taller students read over the heads of others. Smaller first-years stand in the front, getting an up-close-and-personal view of the results.
I haven’t worked up the courage to walk over. Instead, I just stand off to the side, my back pressed against the cold stone wall. Ambrose stands next to me, a silent pillar of strength. He talks with various Veils who stop and converse with him, but he never leaves my side or tries to drag me into the conversation. He just allows me to stand here and find my bearings.
