Page 27 of The Fractured Veil

Maybe it was their coldness, their air of mystery, or the way they seemed to effortlessly order attention wherever they went. Or maybe it was just the sheer frustration of not being able to figure them out. Whatever the reason, they were a constant presence in my thoughts—a puzzle I couldn't seem to solve. And the more I tried to ignore them, the more persistent they became. It was like my mind had developed a mind of its own, and it had aseriouscrush on the Shadow Brothers.

"Will your little pathetic human be participating?" Mira sneered, her voice dripping with malice. "I wouldloveto run into her during the challenges." The giggles from her entourage, like a chorus of vultures, sent an instant headache pounding behind my eyes. She leaned in closer, her eyes glowing with malicious glee. "You know, once the challenge starts, the academy isn't liable for injuries... or casualties."

A wave of nausea washed over me. It wasn't just the thinly veiled threat; it was the way her words seemed to hang in the air, infecting the atmosphere with a toxic dread. Before I could respond, El's voice cut through the tension like a whip.

"Oh my god, Mira," she drawled, her smile as sharp as a shard of ice. "Let's hopeIdon't seeyouout there. I'd hate for that pretty little face of yours to get scarred forever." Her eyes glinted with a dangerous light, a promise of fiery retribution. "You know, I can cast fire that not even your precious healing abilities could fully mend."

Mira's smirk faltered for a split second, her hand instinctively flying up to touch her cheek—a flicker of fear betraying her usual arrogance. I couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping before I could stop it.

"I really appreciate your concern, Mira, I really do," I said, my voice dripping with fake sincerity. "But maybe you should be more focused on yourself and less on the 'pathetic human.' I'm sure Zarek wouldn't want you hanging around if your face wasn't so...intact." I let the last word hang in the air, a pointed reminder of El's earlier threat.

Her smirk wavered, and I could tell I'd struck a nerve. Whether it was the mention of Zarek or the sheer audacity of a human talking back to her—again—it clearly got under her skin. For a delicious moment, she was speechless. But Mira's eyes quickly narrowed, the icy blue hardening with a venomous glare. She regained her composure quickly, but the crack in her facade remained—a testament to the sting of my words.

"Are you just upset because they don't want you?" she sneered, her voice a whisper that slithered into my ear. "Because they actuallydespiseyou." Her cruel smile widened, as she twisted the knife. "God, you should hear the way they talk about you. You wouldn't be enough for them. They need someone strong, someone powerful by their side. And, well..." Her gaze raked over me, dripping with condescension, daring me to rise to the bait. I leaned in just slightly, my eyes locking onto hers.

"Honestly," I murmured, my voice low and laced with a playful challenge, "if they despise me so much, they sure spend a lot of time around me, wouldn't you say?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Maybe you could do me a favor, Mira, and tell them to leave me the fuck alone. I'm sure they'd listen to you." I let the last sentence hang in the air, a subtle dig at her desperate attempts to gain their attention.

Her eyes widened, the smirk momentarily slipping as a flash of anger. I let the silence hang between us, savoring her stunned expression before I straightened up, turning away with deliberate calmness. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a response, not while she was still reeling from what I said.

El was grinning beside me, her eyes practically dancing with glee. "Come on," I said, my voice light and casual, though my heart still pounded with the lingering rush of adrenaline. As we walked away, I could feel Mira's seething gaze burning into my back, but I didn't give her the satisfaction of looking back. I had won this round, and the knowledge of that small victory was enough to fuel me for the rest of the day.

El laughed, nudging me playfully. "You really know how to get under her skin," she said, her grin a mix of pride and amusement. "That was amazing!"

El and I parted ways after the Dean's unexpected announcement that classes were canceled for the rest of the day. With the gift of an unscheduled afternoon, I decided to head back to my dorm, hoping for a bit of peace and quiet to process everything—Mira's threats, El's fiery defense, the Dean's surprising declaration about the Wonders of Nexara, and the lingering curiosity about those cryptic words Professor Lorian had uttered in the dead of night.

But as I approached the Women's Dorms, I screeched to a halt. Leaning against the stone archway—as if he were a part of the building itself—stood Zarek. He was a figure of contradictions: relaxed yet alert, casual yet intense. His usual laid-back, teasing demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, he stood with arms crossed, staring at the entrance with an unreadable expression.

My first instinct was to avoid him entirely. To pretend I hadn't seen him and slip past, unnoticed, into the relative safety of the dorm. I had no idea what he was doing there, and frankly, I wasn't in the mood for any of his usual cryptic pronouncements or flirtatious games. But as I attempted to execute my avoidance maneuver, he turned his head, his gaze zeroing in on me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.

"There you are," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Stalking is taking things a bit too far, don't you think?" My usual sharpness was there—the instinctive defense mechanism kicking in—but the bite lacked its usual force. Something about his presence felt different today, and it threw me off balance.

What is wrong with me?I inwardly groaned, frustrated by my own involuntary reaction to him.

Zarek's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sweeping over my face as if he were trying to decipher my thoughts. "I'm not stalking you," he said, his voice carrying a sharp edge I hadn't heard from him before. It was a tone I associated with Nox, with Damon—one that held an underlying current of something dangerous. "We need to talk."

His words stopped me in my tracks. Talk? This wasn't the Zarek I knew, the one who delighted in playful banter and veiled innuendos. A flicker of apprehension, mixed with a strange, unwelcome curiosity, sparked within me. I crossed my arms defensively, my usual shield against their confusing world.

"About what?" I asked, my voice cautious, wary. The intensity in his eyes was unsettling, and the air thrummed with an unspoken tension that made me want to bolt. But something held me rooted to the spot—a strange compulsion to hear what he had to say.

Zarek stepped closer, his expression more serious than I'd ever seen it. "The Wonders of Nexara," he said, his voice low and resonant.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't teasing. There was an urgency in his eyes, a sense of purpose that made me hesitate despite my reservations.

"Why do you care?" I shot back, though my voice wavered slightly. His seriousness was unnerving, throwing me off balance.

"Are you going to participate?" His tone was low, serious—demanding an answer.

I swallowed, a strange tension coiling in the space between us. This was unlike any of our previous encounters. I found myself answering without even thinking.

"Yes." The word left my lips before I could stop it, and I held his gaze, my own eyes locked on his deep golden amber ones. Shadows seemed to dance at the edges of my vision, shifting and swirling as he took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair before looking down at the ground. Was he... concerned?

"If you're going to join," he said, his voice firm, brooking no argument, "you're training with us." He looked back up at me, his eyes devoid of emotion, a mask firmly back in place.

"I'm good, thanks." I scoffed, turning to leave, eager to escape the intensity of him and the confusing emotions swirling within me. But his hand shot out, catching my bicep. His touch was warm—almost burning—setting my skin on fire even through the fabric of my sleeve. His grip was firm, insistent, but it didn't hurt. It was more like a brand, searing his presence onto me.

"You will, Thalia," he said, his voice steady and commanding, leaving no room for argument. I looked down at his hand on my arm, the warmth of his touch still lingering on my skin, then back up at him, my gaze hardened into aget the hell off meglare.

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