I nod once, then push to my feet, feeling a bit woozy, though I can’t tell if it’s from my cold or from the realization that Severin has been withholding this information from me this whole time.
“I’ll be ready, Professor.”
Professor Azula gives me a small smile. “I expect nothing less of you.”
Back out in the corridor, I finally let the anger and hurt wash over me. It hits all at once, like the immediate shock to your system when you dive into a lake of icy water.
He knew. And he didn’t tell me.
“Do not jump to conclusions,” Isis says, wiggling her head up from under my thick scarf. “He has never tried to hurt you. Wait to hear his explanation before you get angry.”
“Too late,” I grumble.
I’m already angry. I’mmorethan angry.
And if I weren’t sick and feeling like muck right now, I’d probably be fighting to keep my storm in control.
Around me, other students talk and laugh, discussing our upcoming finals and the Yule holiday. But their voices feel distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears, like I’m deep underwater.
Since that day in his office, I’ve tried to convince myself that the distance he’s putting between us has been to protect me. That it’s his way of showing love.
But now it feels like something else. Like maybe he doesn’t trust me in the way I thought he did.
Before I know what I’m doing, my feet are moving, boots striking out a crisp rhythm on the stone as I walk down the corridor to Severin’s closed office door. Even without knocking, I know he’s on the other side. I can feel him there, like I always can. Like an itch I can never scratch, a thirst that can never be quenched.
I knock once, the rap of my knuckles sharp against the wood.
There’s a beat of silence. I know he knows that it’s me. And I’m not going away. I’ll stand out here all day if I have to.
Finally, his voice calls out, “Enter.”
My pulse jumps. I push the door open and step into his office.
Severin is standing behind his desk, the sleeves of his black button-up folded back to his elbows. The vest he wears is snug, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders and chest, reminding me of the times I’ve trailed my fingers over his muscles, have felt them straining as he carried me to heights the likes of which I’ve never felt before.
And worry I may never feel again.
Without saying a word, I push the door closed, the click of the latch loud in the quiet office.
He meets my gaze steadily, his eyes now gone completely dark, no hint of my blood left in the color of his irises.
“Miss Vandermere,” he says.
My throat burns. “We need to talk.”
Chapter 48
Severin
I FELT HER COMING LONG before she knocked on the door. And now she’s standing before me, cheeks flushed, fingers curled into fists at her sides, lips pressed into a firm line. And, goddess, she’s beautiful.
It’s good to see her. Since that night on the tower, when she summoned the storm that undoubtedly gave her the cold she’s been fighting, I’ve only see her in class.
And I miss her. Deeply. Desperately.
“You’re ill,” I say, a mix of concern and frustration lingering in my tone. But she ignores it.
“I just came from a fellowship meeting with Professor Azula.” She steps forward but makes no move to sit in the chair across from my desk. Anger pulses through our connection like distant thunder, leaving me momentarily confused.
