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Whatever sense of relief I was hoping to feel now the exams are over is yet to come, and I know I won’t get it until I speak to Zachary.
SinceIhave,forthe first time since I arrived in Spearcrest, no work to do, and since I’m not in the mood for being around others, I end up making my way aimlessly around campus, bidding a private, secret goodbye to the place I’ve called home for so long.
I go past the peace garden, with its flowers now in full bloom and the gazebo standing in the middle like a marble crown. I pass the arboretum, with its evergreens and carpet of pine needles, and past the old botanical garden, with its curtain of ivy and long, dusty windows. Then I make my way around the back of the campus, past the staff car park, the cobblestone path up to the clock tower, then back to the main campus.
Finally, I head into the library. It’s quiet this time of year, almost completely deserted.
Sunlight falls in thick, heavy ribbons through the glass cupola, dust sparkling like magic powder as it spins in slow motion. I make my way up floor by floor, hand gliding up the smooth surface of the bronze railings, past the reading nooks with their big chesterfields, past the monsteras and the book trolley, past the polished bookshelves with their amassed treasures of knowledge.
On the top floor, I turn left and take trailing steps, as though mesmerised, to my little spot, my old haunt. The place where Zachary and I spent years navigating the strange battlefield of our relationship.
“Good afternoon, my beautiful nemesis.”
His voice is low and gentle and sensuous, and at first, I’m convinced it’s an echo from the past, half-ghost, half-memory, rising from the old books and golden lights.
And then my eyes fall to my desk—the desk where I’ve read so many books and written so many essays.
The old wooden chair is angled away from the desk, and Zachary Blackwood sits upon it, his body relaxed, his long legs crossed at the ankles. One elegant hand supports his face, the other dangles with careless grace off one armrest.
There’s an easy smile on his handsome face, and a beam of warm sunlight, refracting off the bronze railings of a nearby shelf, makes his eyes glow like amber.
It’s a gorgeous smile, warm as a caress. I pull out the chair near to his—the chair where he would sit for so many hours, his arm pressed against mine as he worked at my side—and sit down facing him.
“Good afternoon,” I answer. “My august adversary.”
Chapter 51
Effective Method
Zachary
ThemoreIseeit, the more I adore Theodora’s short hair. The natural waviness of it, like ethereal wisps; the way she pins the tip back in a hair clip shaped like a moon crescent.
When I didn’t see her after our literature exam, distracted by Evan and his lovesick puppy antics, I assumed she had gone back to her room to get changed, but she’s still in her school uniform. Unlike everybody else, she’s still wearing the winter uniform, with its long-sleeved shirt.
But of course, she still manages to look ethereally beautiful even in her uniform. She looks better now than she ever has, and there’s a new confidence in her movements that makes my heart catch whenever I glimpse it.
Which I do when she slowly, calmly pulls out the seat next to mine—the seat I always occupied during our many hours spent in this very place. She sits straight in her chair and crosses one leg over the other, lacing her fingers around her knees in that prim way of hers. It sends a hot rush of mingled affection and desire through me, and I have to resist the urge to spring up from my chair to sweep her into my arms.
She sits, and her gaze rests on mine, her expression neutral but relaxed.
“Good afternoon,” she says, “my august adversary.”
“A compliment, Theodora? How unexpectedly generous.”
She gives a small, gracious smile. “Yes. A final compliment to add to your piteous list.”
“Final?” I say in a light tone. “I don’t think so, no.”
“I see you’re in one of your arrogant moods.”
“Aren’t I always?”
She laughs. “Unfortunately, yes. I take it the literature exam went well?”
“Exceedingly. I stole Evan’s precious tutor from him; her help and your absence might have given me the edge I needed to match you in getting full marks.”
“How can you possibly know if I’m going to get full marks? I might have done terribly in that exam for all you know.”
