16. Violet

16

VIOLET

With a smile, I push my way into the tower room right at the top of this structure on the south wall. It took me forever to find the fucking place, but now that I have, I feel a sense of peace wash over me as the smell of paints and canvas hit my nose.

The lights are bright enough to be able to see the tones and hues on the canvases but not so bright as to hurt my eyes. There are several other students in the room, all of them focused on their paintings. I take my place at one of the easels near the door and look around for some supplies. Gathering up what I need, I feel eyes on me, and I look up. Briar is there, glaring at me from across the room, a paintbrush in her hand. She sneers at me and goes back to her work. I sigh, but I won't let that bitch ruin the first time I've felt happy in the last few weeks. I ignore the stool and stand, holding out a paint palette to squirt my paints onto. The brush feels like an extension of my left hand as I get lost in the art.

Dark colours brush the canvas, a turbulent storm at sea which depicts the raging in my soul over everything that has happened to me since my parents were murdered. The dull ache in my chest makes me feel guilty for not grieving them as I should be. But I can't. The emotions aren't there. It's like it happened to someone else a long time ago.

I lose all sense of time and space as the brush frantically sweeps over the canvas, creating a piece that is meaningful and beautiful. It's only when I add the final stroke, I step back and take in what I've created. It fills my heart with joy when I look at it, despite the dark nature of the painting. My smile freezes in place though as frost develops around the edges and soon it covers the entire canvas in a block of ice.

Briar strolls over and shoves the canvas off the easel with a small, "Oops."

I stare in horror as the canvas shatters into a million pieces. She giggles and saunters away, clearly pleased with herself. Rage bubbles up inside me, and my fangs drop. I have to clench my fists to keep from lunging at her. She slams the tower door closed, and tears prick my eyes as I stare at the painting, broken like a smashed mirror of my soul.

The door opens again, but I don't look over to see who it is, instead, I look around for a broom to sweep up the mess. I can't leave it lying around with the sharp edges. Someone could get hurt .

"Violet."

I look up at the deep voice and brush back the tears. "Thorne, right?"

He nods. "What happened?" He stares at the shattered painting.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me," he demands softly. His voice has taken on a melodic tone, and I find myself wanting to confide in him.

"Briar froze my painting and then smashed it."

"Briar?" he hisses. "That little bitch."

"Yeah, you're not wrong about that." I go back to sweeping, but Thorne's hand lands gently on mine, and I pause.

"Here, let me."

"No, I've got this."

He smiles and waves his hand over the mess. The bits of painting woosh up and land on the easel, forming a perfect whole painting again, free from ice and destruction.

"Wow," I murmur, staring at it and then at him. "You're handy to have around."

"It's basic magick. She knew it could be fixed. Not that I'm excusing her attitude," he points out before I can comment on it.

I stare at the restored painting, still in awe of Thorne's casual display of magick. "Thank you," I say softly. "I... this means a lot to me."

Thorne nods, his dark eyes studying me intently. "You're talented," he says, gesturing to the painting. "The emotion in this piece is tangible."

I feel a flush of pride at his words. "Thanks. I've always loved art, but right now, it feels like the only way I can truly express myself. Do you paint?"

He nods and steps closer, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting. "I dabble, compared to you. It helps me relax and clears my mind, but I understand the sentiment. Sometimes, words aren't enough to convey the turmoil inside us."

I nod, surprised by his insight. "Exactly. Everything's changed so fast, and I'm still trying to make sense of it."

"I can imagine how difficult it must be, becoming something you never asked to be," Thorne says quietly. "But you're stronger than you realise, Violet."

His words touch something deep inside me, and I have to blink back tears again. "I don't feel very strong most of the time," I admit.

Thorne's hand comes to rest on mine, a gentle weight. "Strength isn't about never feeling weak or scared. It's about continuing on despite those feelings."

I look up at him, seeing a depth of understanding in his mesmerising blue eyes that I hadn't expected. "How do you know all this?"

A sad smile flickers across his face. "Let's just say I've had my own struggles with change and identity. It's not an easy road, but you're not alone on it."

His words resonate deeply, and I feel a connection forming between us, one of friendship and something more profound. "Thank you, Thorne."

He nods, squeezing my hand lightly before letting go. "Now, about Briar," he says, his tone darkening slightly. "She needs to be dealt with."

I shake my head quickly. "No, please. I don't want to make things worse."

"Violet," Thorne says seriously, "if you let her get away with this, she'll only escalate. Trust me, I've seen this before. Ignoring her won't make her go away. It will incense her."

I bite my lip, torn between wanting to stand up for myself and not wanting to rock the boat. "I don't need you or anyone else to fight my battles."

"I'm not suggesting that. But you do need to bite back. Not literally," he adds with a smirk.

I giggle. "So what do you suggest? I wreck one of her paintings?"

"No, the House Games are coming up. You use that as an opportunity to show her who she's really messing with."

"House Games? What's that?" I ask, intrigued.

"You haven't been assigned yet? They will get to it, probably debating where to stick you. We have four Houses here: Rome, Troy, Carthage and Athens. We are housed in different ones every year. This year, I was given Troy."

"What House is she in?"

"Rome. "

"God, I hope I don't get Rome then," I snicker, and he grins.

"I hope you do. It will wind her up no end. She wants to be House Captain. We had a bit of a delay at the start of the year; some funky shit went down. I'm not quite sure what happened, but they said the start of the winter term is when they will choose captains."

"Well, Thorne. If you are suggesting I aim for House Captain, I'm not sure I've got the right stuff."

"How do you know?"

"Wild guess." I turn from him and place the broom back in the corner where I found it.

But a small part of me wants to believe it's possible.

"Anyway, I'd better get going," I murmur. "I shouldn't be late to lectures on my first day, and I'm taking up too much of your time."

"No, you aren't. I've enjoyed our conversation. I've seen what makes you tick, and that is something I desperately need to know."

"What?" I ask, startled at the intensity in his voice.

"Caine told us about the ritual. I'm working on it."

"Oh," I say, taken aback. I stare at Thorne, suddenly feeling very exposed. "You know about that?"

He nods solemnly. "We went to Blackthorne with it, but interestingly, the ritual is Dark Fae magick. So that puts me in the game."

"Dark Fae. That is you?"

He nods, and I chew my lip. I have no idea what that even is. I guess it's my turn to do research and learn about all these creatures I'm now at the Academy with. "Can I help with anything?" I ask tentatively. Anything to get this show on the road and this bond severed.

"You already have, Violet." He gestures to the painting. "I guess this was fate throwing me a helping hand."

We share a smile, and I feel a warmth spread through me.

"I should get going," I say reluctantly. "But thank you, Thorne. For everything."

He nods, his intense gaze lingering on me. "Anytime, Violet, and remember what I said about the House Games. Don't let Briar push you around."

As I pick up my painting and leave the art room, my mind spins with everything that's happened. The restored painting, Thorne's kindness, and the revelation about the Dark Fae ritual. It's a lot to process.

I make my way to my room to drop the painting off before my next class, Supernatural Ethics, trying to focus on what's ahead. But my thoughts keep drifting back to Thorne and our conversation. There's something about him that intrigues me, a depth I hadn't expected.

These three men I've encountered have each been pivotal to my strength, and their help is invaluable. I didn't think it would be that easy to place my trust in anyone, but they have made it easy.

Placing the painting in front of the mirror on the dresser, I take a moment to put away the clothes in the drawers, marvelling at everything that has happened since I left Nathaniel's. I think it will be a long time before I get used to magick and supernatural creatures, but I feel like I can move on with my life here, even if I am no longer human but a vampire instead.