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What’s that about?
I decide to think about that later and move on.
On the other side of the hall are two more doors. One I know is Dashel’s room. I’ve seen him enter it exactly once and never saw him come back out.
But the other…
I head over and test the knob. Not locked. The door opens easily, and what I see beyond it steals my breath.
I can’t believe it.
“By Celestus,” I murmur into the sunlit room.
An unbroken row of windows lines the back wall. The glass shines in the light, casting wide beams of light on the floor and walls.
But the light isn’t deadly. It’s not setting fire to the glass or melting the walls. Looking out, I find no dead, barren land. No fiery skies.
Their realm’s star isn’t the deadly giant from our stories.
And what’s more, the land isn’t simply barren. It’s thriving.
I’m in a city. Tall buildings line the horizon and all shapes and colors of demon walk freely in the sun.
What strikes me most is all the green. Tall grasses sway between buildings. Trees line the sidewalks, dots of purple and red and yellow flowers between each one.
“This can’t be real.”
“Oh, it is."
I startle at Dashel’s voice behind me, but I don’t turn to face him. I can’t pull my eyes from the spectacle outside.
“How?” I say with the well-practiced voice I use on Malachi when pretending we’re a normal family.
Dashel scoffs behind me, finally drawing my attention. “Figures.” His gorgeous face is tight, brows drawn, lips folded inward. “I knew you’d be just like the rest.”
He turns on his heel and leaves the room. I don’t bother calling after him.
I don’t see Dashel or any other demon for the rest of the night. Several times, while trying to occupy myself with lecture notes or Olivia’s hacked profile, I think about messaging Axe.
I don’t. He doesn’t need to know how much he’s on my mind. Messaging Enzo or Bastian might be an option, but I’m not trying to make things more complicated.
The following morning, which I somehow knew was morning without a window or an alarm, I get myself ready and head to the kitchen for breakfast before first period.
I’m not looking forward to first period arithmancy at all, but there’s only so long I can avoid Karloff.
Unfortunately, only Dashel is in the kitchen, hunched over the sink eating a purple-fleshed fruit.
We ignore each other as I make my own food, just like we ignore each other when he takes my hand and blinks us outside Karloff’s classroom door.
Students press in around us, but I don’t care. I’m locked in Dashel’s stare, tethered to him by the hand he’s holding.
It doesn’t come instantly this time.
It isn’t until we arrive back on campus that touching Dashel has that same spine-tingly, electric warmth.
We yank our hands away from the other, and I don’t bother looking back when I enter Karloff’s classroom.
“Nice of you to finally decide to join us, Ms. Collins.”
