At three p.m., I finally get dressed, gather my things, and exit the hotel, too angry to even cry.
The next day, after seven grueling years of training, the senior cohort of the Seamere College of Magical Veterinary Sciences finally graduates.
It’s a short timeline; since we’re all assessed by magical means, they can calculate the results almost immediately. It means they can also kick us out faster, I guess.
It’s a bittersweet feeling; I’m happy to be moving on, of course, but I’m also frightened, apprehensive, sad. Plus there’s the fact that, only two nights ago, I’d pictured myself celebrating graduation alongside Harrisford, and now—after he abandoned me in the hotel room—I won’t be.
The afternoon is warm, not hot. The other students buzz withexcitement. Everything is swathed in the unmistakable aura of magic. I’ve no idea why, but there have been no more surges for the past twenty-four hours—the elevated atmospheric magic seems to have eased to its normal low-level hum. At least the brief respite gives me, Heli, and Conall a bit more time to figure out how to enter the Void.
The ceremony is outside, so that both familiars and mythical creatures can attend: The qílín and her foal stick their muzzles through a fence; Arkany flies lazy circles overhead; I even spy a dark-haired centaur swigging from a suspicious-looking flask. Percy snoozes, curled on my lap.
My neck is sweaty beneath my gown, and my hat makes my head all itchy. Although I’m terrified of seeing Harrisford, when I take my seat in front of the stage, my gaze involuntarily drifts to his chair.
It’s empty.
My stomach twists itself into knots. He’s probably rolling out of some other woman’s bed in a sort of postcoital daze, and will arrive at the last minute looking impeccable, as usual. I clench my hands into fists and force myself to swallow the scream that’s lodged inside my throat.
Don’t think about him, Gwendolynne.I grit my teeth. He means nothing.Nothing.
Professor Kaur is still suspended, so that awful man, Thomas Pickering, is presenting the degrees today. He gets up to speak, droning on about the honor of Seamere and the next generation of bright young veterinarians.
But I’m not listening, because I’m wondering: Where the fuck is Harrisford? The ceremony has started, and hestillhasn’t shown up. I try to keep myself from repeatedly checking his empty chair but fail miserably.
His absence is just so…odd. Today, we’ll find out our final scores. We’ll find out who is being proclaimed top of Seamere. And I know Harrisford. I know he wouldn’t usually miss an opportunity to gloat if—by some cruel trick of fate—he manages to beat me.
The vice dean is nearing the end of his speech. I sit up straighter, trying to focus, pushing Harrisford to the back of my mind, as Professor Pickering clears his throat and unfolds the parchment that holds the thread of my entire future.
“And this year the top student of Seamere College, who won by one single point, is…”
The audience waits with bated breath. “Dr.Gwendolynne Chang!”
“Chan,” Heloise, who is next to me, mutters indignantly. But I barely register her. I hardly notice the way the crowd ruptures into applause as I stand and edge my way along the row of seats, wondering the whole time where on earth my biggest rival is.
Afterward, when Heloise spots me, she rushes at me and gives me an enormous hug.
“Congratulations, Dr.Chan,” she says, beaming all over her face. She takes a step back and gives me an illustrious bow, with a flourish. “The greatest, the most fantastic, the hottest-ever top graduate of Seamere.”
“Thanks, Heli,” I mumble quickly, and then I grab her forearm and pull her close. “Listen, you haven’t seen Harrisford around anywhere, have you?”
“Harrisford? No, why?”
My eyes scan the crowd, checking one last time for his distinctive golden head. “He didn’t show up to the ceremony.”
Heli’s eyes widen. “Really?”
My cheeks flush. The fact that she didn’t notice is a little embarrassing. No one else seems as observant about Harrisford’s movements as I am.
I ignore that thought. “Yeah. He missed the entire thing. Heli, you don’t think—”
I stop short. I haven’t yet told Heli about what Harrisford and I did two nights ago. Or how I’ve fallen hard for him, even though he doesn’t feel the same way back. I haven’t had the chance to tell her how he’d fucked right off the morning after we’d had the most incredible sex—twice—and I’d seen him in all his perfect, naked glory.
I freeze. My brain has snagged on something, and my mind is churning, sifting through my recollections as though I’m perusing books inside the library. At the hotel, I’d been so delirious with desire that I hadn’t noticed, hadn’t registered what I was feeling.
I press my fingers to my lips, recalling some deeply buried body memory of the way his skin had felt beneath my hands. After our second time, he’d fallen asleep before me, snoozing on his stomach, and I’d taken the opportunity to spend a considerable amount of time ogling him. I’d run my fingers through his soft blond hair. Caressed the scars that covered his shoulders and his back.
He had many scars, yes, but also a specific one. One that was more raised and less irregular than the ones that marked his back. And if I recall correctly, it had been high on the nape of his neck, just at the base of his skull. It’s one I’d subconsciously noticed when he’d undressed in his room at the Briggs mansion, because it looked different from the others. A very straight scar, in a very particular place…
“Gwen?” Heli says, uncertain.
