“By the very few who can. Unfortunately, only Noctryns have access to learning the process, and since we don’t know exactly where you fall on the spectrum, we’ll have to save that for another day,” he answers.
Secrecy upon secrecy. The layers are abundant.
I rub my temples to try and ease some of the residual tension from the surprisingly quick interrogation. I’m thankful he only probed into the necessary timeline. He could have taken full advantage and gone back as far as he deemed necessary.
He pushes back and away from me. “It will subside as the day goes on. The human mind isn’t used to being probed and dug through by intrusive hands,” he assures me.
I give him a sarcastic thumbs-up.
His usual impassive face breaks into a slight smirk. It only amplifies his regal beauty. Perhaps it’s a good thing he doesn’t smile. It’d probably be detrimental to the female population if a mere smirk is this lethal.
I smack my thighs with both hands and stand up. If this meeting is adjourned, I’d very much like to get the hell out of here.
I glance toward the door. “Are we done here?”
“We’re done here.” His eyes track me as I push the chair in. “Oh, and Caderyn,” he says, holding my gaze, “It wouldmost definitelybe detrimental to the female population.”
I narrow my eyes on his smug smirk before turning on my heel and leaving.
I might be going insane because I swear I hear deep masculine laughter weave its way through the door after it shuts.
Shaking my head, I follow Griffin out of the damp catacombs.
Chapter nineteen
The air in the halls is thick with suspicion and whispers.
Glances and tight nods are shared in passing. Silence falls when someone enters a room. Conversation feels weighted as if there’s more than one meaning behind every sentence—everything feels coded.
The separation between Veils and Noctryns is at an all-time peak. Trust was thin before, but now it’s nonexistent. Accusations are tossed about and insults slung. The academy felt split in half. One side thrums with barely restrained power, whereas the other is heavy and cold with simmering dark magic.
Earlier in the halls, an intense argument between a second-year Veil and a third-year Noctryn resulted in the dark wielder’s cloak igniting in sparks by “accident.” Training sessions during combat practice have ended with frozen limbs, mind injuries from deep mental manipulation, and broken bones. A few of the shifters have suffered extreme exhaustion from shifting too often under duress. Makon was furious during our earlier classwhen a dark wielder’s eyes started bleeding from pushing past her limits.
It's chaos. Dangerous, catastrophic chaos.
Classes aren’t going much better. Ruins and Wards was a struggle for me this morning. Finnley and most of the other Veils seem to be grasping it as the class progresses, but I haven’t been able to create one ruin or break a singular ward. Half of the time, I don’t even know what they’re talking about, and let’s face it, besides Finnley, most aren’t willing to help.
Ambrose tried to tutor me during our astrology class—the one class we share together—but I ended up more confused. And once again, he was the only one who acknowledged my existence.
Sometimes I think it would have been better to place as a Noctryn instead of this in-between. It was the last thing I wanted, but I promise nothing is more isolating than not being able to relate to others. Being different automatically labels you as an outsider.
Being aLiminallabels you as a traitorous outsider.
It's a constant tug-of-war.
The usual sounds of the sparring gym greet me as I enter. I make my way to the back, toss my bag down, and plop down beside it. I grab my wrappings out of the side pocket and bring one across the back of my hand, through my fingers, and up my wrist multiple times like Kingston taught me. By the time I finish the second hand, there’s still no sight of him.
I resort to watching others perfect their techniques while I wait. Eryk is getting absolutely pummeled by a sharp uppercut from Koa. Apparently, being the general’s son doesn’t buy you safety. In fact, it looks detrimental. The tension between the students is bleeding over into the sparring rings if the grunts and body slams echoing through the gym are any indication.
Coincidentally, the first years are all paired with a student from the opposite regiment.
Lucky us.
They hate us and are significantly more advanced.
Eryk staggers to his feet, slightly swaying with a nasty-looking bruise already forming on his jaw. He tucks his head and charges Koa, who simply sidesteps his advance and watches him run into a hanging bag.
I let out a sharp exhale through my nose.
