Page 34 of Veil of Night & Flames

I nod, then glance at Chase.

“We’ll be back,” he says as we both rise, then head up the stairs as Mr. Griffin goes back into his lonely room behind the mirror.

Chapter

Eleven

Hamilton Hall is all the way across campus near the Widow Maker, and it usually takes a full fifteen minutes to make the hike. This morning, it’s going to take more than twenty since I keep tugging Chase to a halt to look at all the things I’ve missed. Students and professors out for early jogs or walks. The Science Center, where I go for most of my classes this semester. And the small snack shop that serves the eastern side of campus.

I watch as a fat feral cat chases a lizard into the mulch ring around the Widow Maker. It stops short, then hisses, its fur standing on end as it makes a low noise and backs away slowly.

I almost laugh. The cat’s probably gotten so spoiled by handouts that a lizard breakfast just isn’t gonna cut it for him anymore.

By the time we reach my dorm, the sun’s made its way over the horizon, casting everything in a misty glow that feels almost magical. I pull Chase to a halt, both so that I can take a moment and to get out of the path of two girls in workout gear who jog past us, ponytails swinging, as they gossip about someone named Devon who apparently sucks.

I smile. It’s good to be back.

Chase and I hurry up the steps, then I spit out a mild curse, realizing that I don’t have my key card. Apparently, whatever magic clothed me when we crossed over didn’t think about housing access.

“Here,” Chase says, reaching up into the empty air and retrieving it for me.

“Handy trick,” I say.

“Just don’t abuse it.”

I’m about to tease him when my mind decodes his words. “Seriously? I can do that?”

“Right now? No. But it will come. You’re descended from the emperor, and you’re no longer bound to the Real. The power that’s always been locked in you will start to come out. Mostly, it will manifest in the other realms, but don’t be surprised if it shows up a little bit here, too.” He shoots me a crooked grin. “But Tia will probably have more than you when she gets it back.”

“When,” I repeat. “Not if?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“But we’ll try?” I press. “It’s like her parents muzzled her. It isn’t right.”

“It’s not,” he says, taking my hand, then kissing my palm. “And you are an amazing woman. And a very good friend.”

“Thanks,” I say, wishing I could just give whatever buried magic I have to Tia. But it doesn’t work that way. That magic is mine, and maybe it’s my imagination, but now that Chase has clued me in, I think I can feel the potential inside me. The power that’s coming. It’s not here yet—but it will be.

So, yeah, me and myself have some introspection in our future. And Chase better start doubling down on teaching me just who the hell I am. Already, my reality is weird. But magic and me in the Real? That still feels too strange to believe.

I start to tap the card on the keypad, then hesitate as I look at Chase. “Are you coming up?”

He shakes his head. “I’m reasonably confident that Tia likes me. But I doubt she wants me there when she wakes up.”

He has a point.

His hand finds mine once again, and he lifts it to his lips, then kisses it softly. “I need to go home. I need to check in with my team. Mostly, I need to give you time to be with your friend.”

I nod, then rise on my toes to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Find me later?”

He cups my cheek. “I will always find you.” Then he brushes his finger over my lips, turns, and descends the steps, walking away without looking back.

I watch until I lose him in the shadows and buildings, unsure if he’s used magic to poof into his apartment or if he’s simply moved out of my line of sight. I suppose it doesn’t matter. For now, at least, I’m back to being Cora-the-Freshman. And that Cora taps the keycard against the reader, listens for the click, then steps over the threshold and into home.

I enter our room quietly, rightly figuring that Tia will still be asleep. And two points to me for winning that bet, because there she is, burrowed under her comforter with only the top of her head visible, a tangle of rainbow-colored hair against the pink pillowcase. The curtains are open, but the tree outside our window blocks most of the early light, so the only illumination comes from the fairy lights she’d strung five seconds after we moved in.

The whole room smells like sage and other herbs I can’t name, but which give our room the scent of home.