Page 89 of Sorrow & Strangers

My footsteps and heart seem to beat in harmony, and my breaths cut through the melody.

It takes a while, but I eventually notice another beat added to the symphony, and when I glance to the side, the headmaster is running beside me. He is keeping pace with me almost perfectly, his eyes locked ahead, and his breath barely labored. I watch him for a long moment before he glances at me. Meeting my gaze, he raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge. Wordlessly, I push myself harder, feeling the ache in my body increase as I seek more speed.

Looking ahead, I know where the finish line is without having to ask. I push harder, but I have already run three miles. While my fitness is improving, it’s not nearly what it used to be, and the headmaster beats me to the large tree.

I bend, bracing my hands on my knees as I gulp down air, trying to recover from the high intensity of the run. When I finally manage to look up, I note that the headmaster isn’t unscathed either. He has his hands linked behind his head, and his shirt is riding up a little, showing a teasing strip of his skin. I look away immediately, though I still feel like I’ve been caught staring.

“That was close,” he pants.

I straighten again so my eyes aren’t level with his stomach. Luckily, he has dropped his arms and is fully covered again. “A win for you nonetheless, sir.”

He turns on his heel and faces the tree and waves his hand. A tally appears under the letter E, marking his win. The column beside it is titled with the letter T. It’s funny to me how formal he is, even in this. There is no Summer, just T for Tuatha De Daanan, just as he is simply E for Emrys.

“You’re on your way back.”

I frown, watching as he turns back to face me. “Way back?”

His lips twitch. It’s such a small motion, barely revealing his moment of amusement. “You’re choosing to live,” he says. “Less porcelain and more steel.”

His words hit me in the chest, and I feel almost grateful for them. “I’m trying, sir.”

He nods.

I look away again. “About the brimstone,” I begin sheepishly. I am not looking forward to getting yelled at again, but if I can save him a trip to Hell, then I will. “There is no rush anymore.”

“Pardon?”

I glance up at him. “There is no rush for brimstone. I managed to source some.”

The headmaster lifts his chin, his gaze severe. “There is only one location where one can source brimstone.”

I don’t lower my gaze. “Rafe needed brimstone. I found some.”

His jaw tightens. “You did not do something so reckless—” He stops himself, but I can feel his anger radiating off him. He runs his fingers through his hair, and the motion is so human that I find it unnerving. “Lucifer knows you are the tradeable piece, Miss Tuatha De Daanan. Please, at least tell me you did not go alone.”

I bristle a little that he thinks I’m an idiot, but then I consider that I almost did go alone, and I would have if the stranger had not stalked me at just the right moment.

“I did not.”

His shoulders relax a little, but he is still almost vibrating with anger. “You must be careful. Lucifer is the king of exchanging one life for another.”

Crossing my arms, I nod. “I went with someone . . . trusted.” I expect to choke on the word as it leaves my lips, but I don’t. Am I believing my own stupid lie, or am I actually starting to trust my formless stalker?

Not the time, Summer.

“I need you to understand that you have two very powerful foes in front of you. Both of whom want different things from you.”

I frown. “Two?”

He nods and holds out one of his hands, his palm open toward the sky. “Lucifer. He wants one thing from you—his heir—and there is little he wouldn’t do to get it.” A small projection of Lucifer appears on his palm. He is leaning against what looks like a wall, spinning something between his fingers with a smirk on his face. The headmaster opens his other hand. “And the Unseelie King.” A miniature version appears on his other palm, though he is lounging on a throne, a crown resting with careless elegance on his head. His sneer holds an edge that makes him seem much more menacing than Lucifer. “He wants . . . everything. Possibly even your life.” He claps his hands, and a dark blue power surrounds them, sparks flickering between his fingers. “I can only protect you within the sphere of the school.”

I stare at his hands, watching his power spin like a tiny storm. “Then I suppose I’m going to disappoint two very powerful males.”

The headmaster’s low chuckle forces my gaze up. He’s looking right at me, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t identify.

“You don’t think I can, sir?” I ask, quirking a brow.

“I very much believe you will,” he says, and there’s not a hint of a lie in his voice.