“What’s wrong? What did it say?” His tone is urgent, but his touch is gentle as he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me into his solid chest.
“I don’t know… I don’t understand. It says I didn’t place.”
My words come out muffled as my face is buried in his rough embrace. He grips the back of my hair in his fist, gently pulling my head back and tilting my chin up with his other hand.
“You have to place, and there are only two options.” His words are confident, but his eyes hold something else. Something that resembles hesitation. Possibly fear.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said,” Mallory chimes in as she walks up behind me, biting her fingernails.
“Same,” Finnley agrees, coming up and standing at my other side.
“The results were clearly written,” I reply, rubbing my exhausted eyes. Maybe if I rub hard enough, I’ll wake up and this will all be a bad dream.
Every single answer was put forth with such careful consideration. I spoon-fed my written portion with Veil-inspired answers. Each showing empathy and fortitude. The physical portion was given the same formula. Perseverance and patience. Nothing that would even become close to triggering a Noctryn response. They’re rash, unapologetic, and unmerciful—the opposite of my Asylamation approach.
“Something you did or wrote threw them for a loop,” Mallory states, tapping her chin with her index finger.
Although not helpful, I agree.
Everyone stares at me like I have the answer hidden up my sleeve on how I got in this predicament.
Surprise.
I don’t.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I got you,” Ambrose says. “We’ve figured our way out of worse situations than this.” His words tell me one thing, but his eyes tell me another. This is uncharted territory, and he knows it.
Finnley sighs dramatically.
I lift the corner of my lips in a defeated half-grin. Same page, buddy. Same fucking word.
“It’s fine, guys, I’ll handle it. Don’t let this ruin your results. You guys are Veils!” I exclaim in an overly chipper tone. “You should be celebrating.” I force a smile on my face. I won’t let my disappointment ruin their elation. They worked their asses off for this and deserve to finally enjoy it.
“Nori, we’re in this together. We started it together, and we’ll finish it together,” Mallory says, leaning toward me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “As Veils,” she finishes softly in my ear.
I give her hand an encouraging pat and unravel myself from her embrace to fist pump Finnley and hug Ambrose. The latter places a small kiss on my forehead before pulling away with one last look of turmoil, before I usher him to his first class.
Finnley and Mallory invite me to breakfast, which I kindly decline. Instead, I head to the courtyard for some fresh air.
I turn down a long hallway that leads to a side exit on the southern side of the fortress. The air in this part of the academy is cold and damp. More so than usual. Regardless of how many hearths are burning, this portion is in a constant state of frigidity. The ceiling is crafted from intricate glass panes molded into a dome shape. It’s beautiful but not a good heat conductor. Thick vines cover the outside glass, blocking any view of the sky.
A little farther up to the right is a small set of stairs that leads out to a partial balcony covered with the same delicate-looking ceiling. It’s anything but fragile, though. Nothing in this fortressis, regardless of how it appears. The academy and its occupants. Poised and ready to strike at any given moment. Regardless of the presentation, they’re deadly.
I’ve done my research on this place. Those glass panes were crafted by the most talented glass blowers in the realm. They were created in the Merch Desert and can withstand the same force or trauma as the stones that make up these walls.
The moisture in the air is causing condensation to form on the glass, and the delicate baby hairs around my neck to coil up and become loose from my braid. I can feel them resting on my neck. Another grievance to add to the ever-growing list of annoyances from today. Some days, I think I should cut the long waves into something more manageable, but then moments like this remind me that I would hate anything touching my neck. If I can’t pile it high on top of my head, it’s just not happening.
It becomes something I can’t control.
And that doesn’t sit well with me.
The only thing that can soften the aggravation growing within my soul right now is solitude wrapped in fresh air. I need to get outside.
Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, filled with fire magic, lighting my way down the small passageway to the exit. I only know about this exit door because, unlike many of the rooms and passages in Kintoira, it was included in the research I conducted.
I just need to erase the chaos playing in my mind. Nothing erases the noise like isolation. Once I have a few moments to myself, I’ll figure out how to approach the headmistress.
Lugworth is not someone you’re in a hurry to chat with.
