“Of course.” I grab my bookbag from where I dropped it beside the chair, then offer Professor Azula the letter, but she shakes her head.
“Keep it. Perhaps you can look back on it in twenty years and know it was only the beginning.”
Only the beginning.
That thought swims in my mind as I thank her once more before leaving her office and moving into the corridor.
I thought the same thing when I stepped into Coven Crest for the first time. It was the start of something new and unknown. Now it’s become familiar, a second home to me, yet my days here are rapidly running out. But now I have a new start waiting for me, a new unknown to walk boldly into.
The bond in my chest tugs, making my boots falter on the stone floor. I can feel Severin nearby, with a steadiness that no longer feels like sand slipping through my fingers. And I suddenly want nothing more than to tell him the good news.
Turning, I head down a narrow adjoining hallway, following the compass that beats in my chest.
The corridor bends, and I slow as I round the corner.
And there he is.
Severin stands at the far end of the hall, speaking with a student—a second-year wearing a school robe trimmed in yellow. His posture looks both rigid and composed, with onehand resting lightly on a large leather journal tucked beneath his arm.
Our bond stirs. His gaze lifts, finding mine.
And his eyes are red—red like poppies in the height of summer, or like the leaves that fall to the ground in the autumn. The shadows that once hung beneath his eyes are gone, and his entire countenance has improved since he resumed feeding from me. Seeing him like this makes that spot beneath my sternum tingle with warmth, and I know he feels it too.
He dismisses the student, who barely glances at me before turning and departing down the hallway. Then he focuses on me.
And I’m not sure I’ll ever not feel as if my breath has been stolen away every time he looks at me like that.
“Miss Vandermere.” He approaches me, stopping an arm’s length away. The late-afternoon sunlight coming through a tall window makes his dark hair gleam, and he tips his head when I don’t answer right away. “What is it?”
Instead of speaking, I reach into the pocket of my school robe and pull out the letter.
Severin takes it with a curious expression, and I watch his face change as he reads—morphing from guarded interest into blatant joy.
His eyes find mine again, and he gives me such a big smile that his fangs show. “You did it.”
I nod once, suddenly finding tears springing to my eyes again. “I did it.”
Severin’s arms are around me then, crushing me to him. I let out a startled breath—we never touch each other in public—then melt against him, my arms looping around him.
“Congratulations,” he says, his breath rustling my hair and tickling my ear. “I’m so proud of you,furtuna mea.”
I lean back slightly, just enough to press my forehead to his. I love when he calls me that—his storm. “You were the first person I wanted to tell.”
He flashes me that same big smile. “I’m honored.”
My lips tip upward, and then I press onto my toes and bring my mouth to his. It’s foolish and reckless, but for this one moment, I don’t care.
Severin brings one hand up to cradle the back of my head, deepening our kiss, stealing this moment, even if it’s just for a breath. Then he releases me, stepping back and straightening up. He tugs his vest, adjusting it, and a brief moment later, another professor walks around the corner.
Thank the goddess for vampire hearing.
Professor Silvermoon, with her long silver hair and wide dark blue eyes, regards us with something much too knowing in her gaze. But she’s always been like that—divination professor and all. “Miss Vandermere,” she says. “Professor D’Arques.” She gives us a small smile, then continues down the hall, humming as she walks, the scent of lilac following her as she goes.
When she’s gone, Severin hands me the letter back. “We’ll have to celebrate,” he says.
“How about this Saturday?” I start to back away. “You know where to find me.”
A low laugh rumbles in his chest. “I’ll see you then.”
