35. Chapter Thirty-Five

“I still don’t understand why you’re so nervous, Ark,” Laurel said, laughter in her voice as she prodded me gently in the ribs.

We were trudging through the Student’s Quarter together, groceries in hand. The late afternoon air had started to chill just enough that I was regretting not grabbing a sweater before my friend had dragged me out to run errands.

“I mean, if you don’t pass these entry exams, you can just take them again next quarter, can you not? You’ve said it yourself, you’re not on any strict timeline here.”

She had a point. Unlike her—unlike most of our peers, really—I had no particular academic plan in place. I wasn’t beholden to any schedules, I had no filial obligations or expectations to uphold here at the Arcane Studium. I had the freedom to do as I pleased, which made it difficult for me to explain the nerves.

I just really wanted to start Physical Arcana. It was like a compulsion at this point. Kieran had been training me for a few weeks now, and after nearly a month’s worth of daily exercises intended to up my physical endurance, I certainly felt stronger—but would it be enough? Kieran clearly had faith in me, commending my progress every chance he got, but the man was arguably biased.

“Arken? Hello?” Laurel said, jostling my arm. “Did you hear anything I just said? Gods, what is it that Vistarii calls you again? Tiny Conduit?”

Little Conduit.

“Oh, shut the Hel up,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

The first time Laurel overheard Kieran calling me that, she wore a shit-eating grin for the rest of the day, and I wasn’t sure she was ever going to let me live it down.

“But no, I’m sorry. Got lost in my head there for a sec. What were you saying, Laur?”

“I was saying, the obvious solution to those nerves of yours is to come out tonight. Get drunk. Get laid. Preferably both.”

I chuckled, pausing briefly by the baker’s stall and exchanging a few Lyra for a small boule of fresh bread as we continued our stroll down the cobblestone path.

“I swear to the Source, woman. That’s your solution for everything. Sex and wine.”

Laurel laughed out loud, turning a few heads as we made our way back towards the Student’s Quarter.

“I mean, I am a merchant’s daughter. The best business connections are built on things like sex and wine,” she informed me with a smirk.

“Ah, that explains why you cycle through your girlfriends on a semi-monthly basis, huh?” I joked. “Collecting all of those connections.”

“Depends on who you ask,” Laurel said, fluffing her hair. She paid no mind to the folks who continued to stare after her outburst of laughter. To be fair, it probably happened to her often enough that it wasn’t worth noticing anymore. Everything about Laurel Ansari was infectious and entertaining.

“According to Cypress, it’s because I’m a high maintenance bitch with commitment issues.”

I grimaced. Knowing Cypress Glass, that was probably a direct quote.

“Remind me again why you’re still dating this one, Laur?”

Her current girlfriend was a piece of work. To phrase it kindly.

“Because she’s hot,” Laurel reminded me flippantly, as if it were obvious. “Besides, don’t act like you don’t like them a little mean, too. Kieran bullies the shit outta you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not dating Kieran.”

“Whatever you two need to tell yourselves,” she replied, smirking again. “Anyway, are you coming out with us tonight or not?”

I opened my mouth, only for Laurel to interrupt.

“That was a rhetorical question, Asher. I will show up at your studio and drag you out by the hair if I need to, which would be a shame because your hair looks gorgeous today. But come on.”

“I dunno, Laur,” I sighed. “I feel like I should probably rest up for the exams…”

It was a pathetic, half-truth of an excuse. Sure, I would benefit from a good night’s sleep before putting my arcana on display for the scholars tomorrow, but the more irresponsible side of me had been hoping to pester Kieran tonight instead.

“Rhetorical. Question. Asher,” Laurel repeated. “You’re coming out. At least give me an hour of reprieve from Cypress and her cronies.”

Though Laurel complained about her various acquaintances and friend circles, the truth was that she was one Hel of an extrovert—a veritable social butterfly who could charm in almost any setting, around any type of person. While I was decent enough at masking my own distaste or discomfort in social situations, Laurel put me to shame. She thrived in those murky waters of the political elite.

But I had spent nearly every night this week with Kieran and his lieutenants, and I knew that Laurel’s constant partying was just one of the ways she was managing to cope. We hadn’t talked about Amir much as of late, but I knew she was still hurting.

“Only because I love you, Laurel,” I acquiesced. “And you get an hour. One. Two at best. You know how I feel about Glass and her groupies.”

Laurel let out a small squeal of excitement.

“Yes! You’re the best. And I swear, some of the other folks joining us tonight are halfway decent, too. Meet at my place around 8?”

“As you wish, you little party daemon,” I sighed, pausing at the corner. We had reached Laurel’s apartment building on the west side of the student housing complex.

“Don’t you dare cancel on me,” she threatened, daggers in her eyes. “I know where you live.”

It was a valid threat to make, as I had certainly left her hanging on more than one occasion, like the gods-awful friend I was.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. See you soon,” I replied.

“See ya, tiny Conduit,” she called over her shoulder.

“Don’t make me change my mind, Ansari,” I warned.

Laurel simply cackled and walked off, dark curls bouncing and gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

Gods, that woman was a pain in the ass. I adored her.

Later that evening, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Laurel had made good on her promise. Some of the other Conduits who were out with us tonight were actually pretty entertaining… and attractive. It was a nice distraction.

I had been out for much longer than an hour now. Expensive wine was flowing and it had loosened quite a few things—lips, neckties, inhibitions. Laurel had unsurprisingly ended up in Cypress’ lap, while a few of their friends were volleying pointed barbs back and forth over some mutual acquaintance who had recently fallen out of favor. We were all clustered together in a more private booth in the corner of The Clover, enjoying the food, plentiful alcohol, and a local bard’s set.

I could feel my interest fading, and I let my eyes wander across the tavern. I loved Laurel, I really did—and I had been having fun for the most part—but it was around this time that I had a tendency to lose interest in the conversation. I could fake plenty of things, but passing judgment over some Conduit for dating some no-name, non-Resonant farmhand? I mean, seriously? Some friends they were. What did it matter?

I took another sip of my honey-whiskey, trying not to roll my eyes.

“Do they always gossip like this?” An unfamiliar voice murmured to my left.

I turned to find that an attractive man was now seated beside me, one of the few new faces that had joined us for a night of drinks and distractions. Mason, I think his name was. Mason Park. There was a devilish sort of gleam in his dark brown, almond shaped eyes that crinkled in the corners as he smirked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I replied with a grimace, eyeing him over my glass of ice and liquor.

“How boring.”

My thoughts exactly.

“You a friend of Cypress?” I asked casually.

“Gods, no,” he replied. “I’m friends with Jaf—Cypress’ older brother. The one who’s trying to hit on the barmaid over there.”

That explained why he seemed a little bit older than the rest of us. Mason nodded across the room, where Jaffrey Glass was looking to be mid-rejection from the woman tending bar tonight. Rough. My eyes glazed over a bit as Jaf returned to the fray, though I did have to laugh when Mason used his Air arcana to ruffle his friend’s hair.

“Can’t win ’em all, bud,” Mason chuckled.

The group conversation eventually drifted away from their weird circle-jerk of self-proclaimed superiority, but my attention continued to phase in and out. I kept myself entertained by people watching, though “entertained” was probably the loosest of terms tonight. There weren’t any particularly interesting groups or pairings to observe, mostly just a throng of my fellow Conduits getting sloshed and dancing the night away.

I was about ready to call it for the evening when my ears pricked up over some casual debate between Jaf and Fahra Nykos, another one of Cypress’ groupies.

“Nah, guys, I’m telling you—everyone has at least one kink. If you think you don’t, you just haven’t discovered yours yet.”

“Gods above, now you’re just being gross, Jaffrey.”

“I’m being gross?” Jaf barked. “Come on now, Fahra—we all know your ex had a foot fetish. Are you really gonna sit there and judge someone if they like to be tied up and spanked a little?”

I smirked behind my glass of whiskey, before realizing all of the ice had melted beneath my warming hands. I sighed, frowning for a moment. It would be so easy to refreeze the ice with a simple little spell, but the convenience of a cold beverage wasn’t worth the risk of being seen. I drank my damn watered down whiskey as is.

“See, now that’s a kink I’ll never understand,” Cypress mused, slurring her words just enough that Mason and I exchanged a knowing look. Laurel’s latest conquest was notorious for being unable to hold her liquor.

“Like… Spanking? Ropes? Whips?! I don’t get that shit. Sex is supposed to be about pleasure, not violence.”

Mason Park and I snorted under our breaths in unison, and then glanced at each other in surprise.

“Oh? You’ve got a take on this, Lightbearer?” Cypress challenged, eyes narrowing. I didn’t think she liked me very much. Clearly, the feeling was mutual.

“I mean, there can be a very fine line between pleasure and pain,” I replied, regardless. “Some people enjoy dancing on that line, if you know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” Cypress slurred, playing with a strand of Laurel’s hair. “I mean, what does anyone even get out of that?”

The group’s eyes were glued to me now, eager for a response now that I had inadvertently exposed myself as a connoisseur of kink. Well then.

“It depends on the person, and what role they’re playing within a dynamic,” I explained. “Plenty of people find the exchange of power and control arousing in and of itself.”

“Sure, sure,” Cypress replied. “Maybe if you’re the one in charge. I get the whole power trip, ego thing. But gods, what does the receiver get out of shit like that?”

I resisted the urge to smirk and expose myself entirely, but still. This was something of a special interest of mine, and I didn’t mind educating my drunk ass acquaintances on the nuance of power dynamics in the bedroom. I took another sip of whiskey before continuing on with a casual shrug.

“There’s something to be said for the freedom you experience by giving up control for a few hours. Consciously—willingly—offering that up to someone else, letting them take the reins and call the shots. It’s a release of responsibility, in a way, and plenty of people find that to be a relief. As for the pain… Well, some folks just like the endorphin rush that comes afterwards. Others… true masochists, mostly, actually enjoy the sensation of pain. They get off on it.”

“Arken Asher, the Light Conduit with a dark side!” Laurel crowed with a wicked grin, lifting her wine glass in my direction. “Who knew you were so well versed in the kinky shit?”

I winked at her, and her grin widened.

“I mean, don’t knock things ’til you try them,” I replied airily, trying not to laugh as Cypress’ eyes widened in shock.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’ve tried that shit?” Fahra asked with hushed excitement.

“Perhaps I have,” I mused, causing Laurel to burst into a fit of drunken giggles. “Perhaps I have… rather often.”

“Oho, the woman speaks from experience,” Jaf cajoled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I snorted.

I was indeed speaking from experience. I had developed a taste for submission back when I was still at home in the Brindlewoods, when I was still dating Graysen. She had a bit of a thing for bossing me around, and over time that escalated to the bedroom dynamic between us. Since then, I had always liked sex that was rough. Demanding. Carnal.

I had indulged in a handful of casual encounters since coming to Sophrosyne, but they were few and far between. None had particularly scratched the itch right, either, though in all fairness, I had never really gone hunting for a dominant partner. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and it was rare that I met anyone who was attractive enough to distract me from the constant, devastating presence of Kieran Vistarii.

Gods, don’t think about him right now, Asher, I chastised myself. Not in this context.

It was too late, though. As the conversation continued, I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of bedroom dynamics Kieran was into. I had a very strong feeling he was… my type. He had even joked about his preference in honorifics a while back. But it was impossible to tell sometimes, whether Kieran was playing around for the sake of my entertainment, or if there was an underlying kernel of truth in some of the lascivious shit that fell out of his mouth oh so casually. Embarrassingly enough, I had revisited that conversation in my mind on more than one occasion…

“What, do you make them call you Captain in bed, too?”

“I prefer Sir, actually.”

“Can I get you another drink?” Mason asked, interrupting my train of thought as he rose to his feet, shaking his own empty glass.

“Sure,” I replied, glancing up at him. There was a glint of intrigue in his dark eyes as he gazed back down at me. “Honey whiskey, if you don’t mind.”

“You’ve got it.”

As Mason wandered off in pursuit of our beverages, my mind drifted back to Kieran. Again. Images that I often tried to avoid flickered through my mind.

Kneeling before him. His hands around my throat. His mouth on my neck, my collarbone, my—

Gods. This was truly the last thing I needed to be thinking about. And yet my tipsy, errant mind kept imagining how he might react if I called him Sir. What that rasping voice of his might sound like, giving me commands. The thought alone had heat pooling between my legs. In the middle of a fucking tavern.

Just a friend. He’s just a friend. You agreed to keep things platonic. You asked to keep things platonic. So stop fantasizing about this shit every chance you get.

“Here you go,” Mason said cheerfully, proffering a fresh tumbler of whiskey and sitting back down beside me.

A little closer this time, I noted. Our thighs were almost touching now, though there had been plenty of space for us both. That would normally bother me, but I didn’t really mind with all the alcohol swimming in my veins. Still, I silently thanked the damn Source—and Mason Park—for interrupting my train of thought yet again.

“You know, Ark,” Mason murmured again after a while. “It sounds like you and I might have some compatible tastes.”

“Do we now?” I mused, contemplating whether or not I wanted to encourage where this conversation was headed. Perhaps I did.

“And what gives you that idea?” I asked, turning to face him.

Between the ever-flowing drinks and our previous conversation, I was admittedly feeling touch-starved. Mason Park was handsome enough. He wasn’t Kieran levels of alluring, but then again, who the fuck was?

I couldn’t avoid the truth that my best friend was at least partially to blame for my lack of a sex life. I enjoyed sex. It was arguably one of my favorite pastimes, and it’s not like I was saving myself for anyone or anything… I would just often prefer my dumb little adventures with Kieran—and his good company—over the risk of bad sex. Though, from what I could gather, it was starting to sound like Mason could offer an evening that actually aligned with my preferences.

“Call it an educated guess,” Park offered.

He spoke with a slight accent, I realized. Vindyrst, if I had to guess. There was a subtle lilt, and a pleasant sort of musicality that most people from the mountainous region of Northern Atlas tended to have.

I smirked to myself as I took yet another sip of whiskey. I was well on my way to being drunk at this point, but I was also overdue for a bit of recklessness.

“Would you like to find out for certain?” Mason asked.

The confidence in his tone left me intrigued. That was the voice of a man who knew how to…

Fuck it.

“You know, I think I just might take you up on that,” I purred.

A distant part of me recognized that I would not receive what I was actually craving tonight—but then again, that particular craving of mine was unlikely to ever be satiated. I mean, so what if when I spoke of submission earlier, I had only imagined offering mine to Kieran? There were a great many things that this mind of mine could conjure, and there were plenty of desires and daydreams that I could never, ever have. But I could have this.

“Lucky me,” Mason replied, eyes darkening with desire.

I knocked back what remained of my whiskey, eager for the liquid courage to assuage my nerves and chase away what remained of those stupid, useless thoughts.

“Let’s get out of here.”