Chapter 35

ChapterThirty-Five

He had known things might change once she moved into the house, but he hadn’t realized how much Thea would turn his life around. She’d gotten used to him being there now. They didn’t hide from each other, at the very least. But that meant they saw each other all the time now.

He swore she waited for him on the stairs in the morning. Otherwise, how was it possible for her to walk out to the stairwell from the second story at the same exact time he did?

And he was ashamed to admit that he looked forward to it every morning now. Her bright smile started his day off with a happiness that he hadn’t felt before. Certainly not in this house.

Perhaps he should ask her to have breakfast with him in the mornings. Alistair straightened his tie and looked in the mirror one last time to make sure that his suit for the Academy had nothing out of place. Unfortunately, today he had to go to that cursed building, and he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Students, after all, needed a professor to be taught.

He didn’t recognize the man in the mirror, but that was the point. Alistair’s unruly hair was tamed with gel away from his face. The pressed suit had once been his father’s, and it always made him uncomfortable to see how well it fit him. His blue jacket was the same, however. Always. He’d decided a long time ago it didn’t matter if he wore it in since he took it off, anyway.

Sighing, he picked up the black leather briefcase containing his lesson for the day. He was technically the Professor of Ancient World Studies, but the Headmistress always pushed him to teach more about the fae than other creatures. Every year she pushed for what he’d created that would give their students the ability to see what he saw.

Now that he was older, he knew what the red stag had warned him about. Sooner rather than later, the Academy wouldn’t give him an easy choice. They would try to force him to make a magical artifact that would let them control the fae. Or worse, rip between the realms so the Academy and their investors could pull whatever they wanted out of the Otherworld.

He was the only person standing in their way. Because he was the only one who could do it.

Alistair had never told them he’d already created an artifact that could do what they wanted. He’d already shown one person how to peer between the worlds, and he’d caught her three days ago with that whistle to her mouth as she watched the household brownies run from room to room.

If that knowledge ever got out, he wouldn’t be able to lie any longer. The Academy was willing to go to great lengths to get what they wanted.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stroked a finger down Atlas’s chest one last time. “When are you going to be ready to meet her, old friend?”

The raven croaked, a worried expression on his worn features.

“Hm,” Alistair muttered. “I felt the same.”

But he couldn’t hide from her much longer. He wasn’t as lucky as his raven.

Marching down the stairs, he paused and waited for a few heartbeats at the second level. She was late. Or maybe he was. But when he didn’t see her walk out of her room, Alistair reminded himself that it was all right if she didn’t greet him every single morning. She owed him nothing.

“Looking for me?” Her bright voice floated from the bottom of the stairwell.

He bit his lip and told himself not to be too obvious. Alistair turned slowly, looking as nonchalant as he thought possible. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, his glasses dangling off her fingers.

“Ah.” Alistair cleared his throat. “No. I was wondering if I needed to bring anything from Cassius’s old room.”

“Of course.” She nodded as though she believed him. Kind woman that she was. “Will you be needing these?”

“Always.” He made his way down the rest of the stairs, worried he might trip at any moment. “Where were they this time?”

“Surprisingly, they were on top of the glass case where we keep the mugs. I don’t think I’m going to ask how they got up there.” Thea grinned as she handed over the glasses, her fingers brushing against his. “You need to look after them better, Alistair. You’re blind without them.”

Oh, now that wasn’t true. He was blind without her. Darkness and grief had blinded the entire house until she walked into this empty building and made it sparkle again.

Blinking the thoughts out of his head, he placed the glasses on his nose and nodded. “It will be a mystery that none shall ever solve, I fear. There’s a stack of documents on my desk that I’d like you to go over. I assume you know which ones to throw out at this point?”

“All of them?”

“Precisely.” And because he quite enjoyed this banter, Alistair gave her a wink. “Do you have any other plans for the day?”

Thea held out her arm for him to take, like the gentlewoman she was, and guided him toward the door. “Well, the library is finished. So I thought I might tackle the dining room today.”

“That was one of my father’s most cursed rooms. I don’t think the shadows will be easy to banish in that one.” He paused at the front door and grabbed onto her hand. “May I suggest a different room? At least until I can get back and help you.”

He’d surprised himself by holding onto her, but the thought of those shadows attacking her with no one to assist made his entire body ache. He wanted her to be free to explore the house, absolutely. But that didn’t mean risking her life.

A strange expression crossed her face, and Thea looked down at their hands. Without a word, she traced her thumb over his ring finger and the faint, dark outline of their promise rings. A tattoo that he would never, could never, remove.

His breath caught in his throat. The soft touch felt as though it meant something. Something important.

“I’ll wait until you return, then.” She looked back at him, her dark eyes wide and reflecting the entire universe within them. “Be safe today.”

He wanted to kiss her. Alistair would have cut off his right hand to kiss her before he left. As if she’d chosen to live with him and see him out the door every morning. But he couldn’t. They weren’t the children they once were, and she only lived in this house because he paid her to do so.

The need was hard to push away, but somehow he managed. Alistair gave her a little nod and walked out of the front door. As always, it felt as though he had left a small piece of himself behind.

She’d wiggled underneath his skin, and how dare she do that? The ghost of his father laughed maniacally, and Alistair knew it was because the old man saw the writing on the wall. Alistair would never press her to reclaim what they’d left behind in their past. If she found another more suitable man here in Wildecliff, then Alistair would watch her happiness from afar. At least then, he’d know she was happy.

He opened the door to his carriage and absentmindedly nodded at his pooka disguised as a carriage man. “The Academy today.”

The pooka gave him a wicked grin and pulled the overly large hat a little lower over its face. It knew how to be discreet when they rolled through town. But he’d never found someone who could drive better than the pooka, and it had returned to his life the moment his father died. Quite a talent, this creature. He’d employed it, and in return, they rarely had fresh milk in the Orbweaver Manor. It drove Nora mad.

He tried not to think of the lovely woman waiting for him back in his home. But Alistair’s mind always seemed to wander back to her, no matter how often he directed his thoughts to the day at hand. Before he knew it, they’d made it up the edge of the cliff, and the massive architecture loomed in front of him.

The Academy hadn’t changed a bit since he’d come here as a boy. The windows still gleamed a little too bright in the sun, and the building still seemed to stretch overhead.

Except now he was the professor, and the children looked at him in fear. Though few of them did, he was the only kind professor in the building, so he supposed he couldn’t blame them.

Which was precisely why Alistair arrived earlier than most. He could take his time getting out of his carriage, wandering up the steps while he tried to pretend he wasn’t here. And then the doors would open for him, as they did for professors, and he’d make his way to his own classroom.

His room was filled with skeletons of massive creatures long dead. Deep sea monsters and winged snakes that once covered their lands. But now they were dead. Long dead, if he taught the children correctly. Wooden desks filled the room, about thirty of them in total, and they all pointed toward the front of the classroom, which was an entire wall painted with blackboard paint. He’d done that work himself and hired a few local artists to fill the edges with illustrations.

If he had learned anything from his own time here, it was that sometimes students wanted something to look at while he was prattling on about history they didn’t care about.

A porcelain teapot and matching cup sat on his desk already. Tiny tendrils of steam coiled out of the pot, and if he looked, he knew there would already be two of his favorite tea bags sitting in the cup next to two white cubes of sugar.

“Thank you,” he called out while placing his jacket on the hook by the door. “You really didn’t have to.”

Answering squeaks rustled through the room. A few bwbachs had joined the other faeries at the school recently, and they’d taken quite a liking to Alistair. Like most of the household faeries he’d met, they too enjoyed a good cup of cream, and they were delighted when he started leaving them out around his office and classroom before he left. Now, he always found himself with a hot morning drink and a clean classroom.

Passing through a few of the desks, he sat down at his own and started pouring the hot water into his cup. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

A couple more chirps were his answer to that. Apparently, they’d suspected that he’d be a little tired. Except then, they all stopped talking as if the room was holding its breath.

He knew better than to be at ease in this school. Alistair sighed and set his cup down with a harsh tap.

Thus, he was looking at the door when it opened, and Marren Sphecidae entered. The man was only a few years older than Alistair, but he appeared so much older. He looked like his father, and that brought about dark memories neither of them wished to think about.

The gleam in Marren’s eye made Alistair nervous. Though the poisonous man was bound to the Orbweaver family, that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to kill Alistair at the first chance.

“Good morning,” Alistair said, standing up from his desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, my students were asking yesterday about the veil. I told them you were the professor to ask, but they all said you weren’t teaching them about the fae this semester.” Marren leaned against an empty desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought the Headmistress might have something to say about that.”

“They don’t need to learn about the fae just yet. They need to learn about the history of many other creatures before we can get to the ones that are still alive.” He gestured to the giant skeleton over Marren’s head, which had once been a sea monster. “It is a class about Ancient History, after all.”

“You can justify it all you want. The students need to know about what’s out there now, not what used to be there.” Marren shrugged. “But that’s not my decision. If the Headmistress is happy with your work, then who am I to judge?”

They both knew very well that the Headmistress wanted Alistair to be teaching the students a lot more about the fae. Everyone in the Academy thought he was holding off to reveal some massive, expansive, terrifying creation that would reveal a brand new world to the rest of them. Alistair was not. He was biding his time until he could figure out a better plan than what he currently had.

Grinding his teeth, he tried his best to remain calm. “Thank you for your concern, Marren. I understand you have spent a long time in this school and amongst its staff. Your warning is something I should be grateful for.”

And yet, he wasn’t.

Marren lifted a pale brow. “Don’t thank me just yet. You might want to wait until the Headmistress has a chat with you.”

Ah. So the other professor had already informed their employer, and now he had to wait all day to see when she would walk through his door. Alistair had thought this would be a horrible day from the moment he woke up, and he’d been correct.

He wanted to slump into the chair at his desk and talk with the faeries. Maybe he could get them to put a rotting fish in Marren’s desk.

But, as the other man started to leave, he watched the Sphecidae pause in his doorway. “Oh, and another thing.”

Alistair didn’t have time for this. He still needed to prepare for class. “What is it?”

“I heard you have a new staff member in your home. A lovely young woman from Waterdown with hair like the deepest of nights.” Marren grinned, though the expression was terrifying. “And considering how our families are old friends, I thought perhaps it might be pastime for you to hold a dinner party at your home. You can introduce us.”

“I have no interest in visitors.”

“You haven’t had visitors since your father died. Your brothers would have upheld the tradition, and yet, you insist on being different. I gave you a friendly reminder today, Alistair. Now this one is an actual warning.” Marren slapped his hand against the doorframe. “If you don’t invite old friends over, you’ll find yourself lacking any at all. And in a place like this, in times like these, you need all the friends you can get.”

Marren left the room but Alistair swore it grew colder the moment that foolish man left.

Friends. Even the word made him want to laugh. No one in the Academy was friends with each other, and few in Wildecliff knew the meaning of the word.

None of them cared for anyone other than themselves. They only wanted to be closer to see when the other would slip up. They waited for a displacement of power that someone else might fill. And if Alistair weren’t careful, then that next displacement would be him. A shame to lose the last Orbweaver, but he wasn’t all that impressive. Now was he?

A shiver trailed between his shoulder blades, and he coughed to clear it.

“Bwbach,” he muttered, turning toward his desk where his tea had already gone cold. “Keep an eye on that one for me, will you? If he makes any threats toward my family, please let me know.”

A quiet chirp echoed through his room, followed by the scuttling of claws. He watched his door open and closed again, and then the room was empty. Though Alistair had grown used to being alone, he suddenly wished he were back home.

With her.

The woman with hair like the deepest of nights.

Again, a shudder traveled through him. He wasn’t only protecting himself anymore, and Alistair feared he’d be a lackluster hero.