19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Bronwyn

The kiss has played havoc on my ability to focus. My lips are still tingling and my heart races anytime I think of it.

I try not to dwell on the smirk that played across Wilder's face when I told him not to kiss me in private anymore. I know that he can easily work around that, he'll just kiss me in public. I could see in his eyes that was what he was thinking.

But I made that rule not so that he would stop kissing me. No, I made it to protect myself.

If he kisses me in public then I know it's all just a show, a part of our fake engagement. But when he pins me against the wall in a secluded hallway, looks me deeply in the eyes and then kisses me there, where there are no witnesses, what am I supposed to think?

That it was just practice?

Probably.

But it didn't feel like just practice to me. To me, it felt real.

Which is very, very dangerous because I am in no position to mistake reality for illusion. I don't like it when he looks at me like that because it makes me think that he might actually care. And with that thought I'm only setting myself up for heartache.

The last thing Wilder Zubkov will ever do is care about me.

I have very little time to compose myself before we are entering Professor Morozov's office. I run my clammy hands down my skirts as I glance around, taking it in. It looks very different from earlier this week, his desk has been shoved to the side and a long wooden table has been moved in with high backed chairs set up, two on each side.

I've never attended any of these banquets as a first year because honestly, getting to know my professors was the least of my concerns, but this isn't a wholly unfamiliar concept at the academy. It's a unique way for professors and students to bond, especially since we usually take our meals separately and only see each other in the classrooms.

There only being four seats is a bit concerning though, usually when a professor holds one of these his whole class is invited.

But the invites for this one seem to have been very selective.

And somehow, I made it to the list.

I swallow, glancing to Wilder for support before I remember that he is probably the last person I should look to for that. Still, he notices my glance and gives me a small smile. His hand reaches out, snagging mine, and he gives it a small squeeze.

I stare down at our interlocked hands unsure if I'm more shocked by the gesture or the fact that he hasn't released my hand yet.

I'm startled out of this line of wondering by the sound of a chair leg scraping against stone as it is pulled out.

"Please make yourselves at home," Professor Morozov says, gesturing to the table. "Our final guest will be arriving shortly."

Wilder raises his eyebrow; I can see the curiosity clearly written across his face. He has no idea who this fourth party is. He moves over to the table first pulling out a chair for me before sliding into his own, not staying to push me in. He has his chin resting in his hand a worried and confused expression written across his face.

I slide into my chair and turn glancing at Wilder, but I don't say anything until Morozov gets up to go over to a table across the room where he pours himself a glass of dark liquid that could be wine… or something a bit more sinister.

While he is preoccupied, I lean closer to Wilder. "What is it?" I whisper.

He shakes his head. "It's probably nothing, I just don't know who Morozov would invite for dinner unless it was…" he trails off, his voice getting thick. He is so unnaturally pallid, even for a vampire and when I look down at his hand, I notice that he is gripping the arm of his chair so hard that his tendons are popping out of the back of his porcelain pale skin. Without thinking I reach out, resting my hand on it.

"Who do you fear it is?" I ask rubbing my fingers across the back of his hand, trying to massage some of the tension out.

"My father," he says, stark fear flashing in his eyes at the word.

His father? The man is no student, why does he fear he will be visiting? He did not do so last year, but then Wilder wasn't wrapped up in whatever scheme this is last year.

I want to press him further, but just then Professor Morozov returns. So, I say nothing and settle for just giving his hand a light squeeze to let him know that I understand. I'm in this danger with him.

If his father is here, then he will reveal that I'm not actually Wilder's fiancé, and I very well may end up being supper after all. Now, that would be ironic. All my life I planned on becoming a vampire, but now am I to die at the hands of vampires because I put off becoming one for so long?

No, not while I have something to say about it. If I die then I doom my family, my father has always told us that his kind cannot survive a great heartbreak. While seemingly immortal Lower Elves are born with one great flaw, anything that they love, they cannot bear to live without. Not for all eternity.

And so, if they lose that love, they lose the will to go on.

They die from heartbreak, so to speak.

I will not be responsible for my father's undoing; I will not be the reason his empire falls. Not because of Wilder's father.

My other hand moves to my spellbook, I rest my fingers gently against it, right where the clasp is. I start mentally going through my memorized fire spells. Like most things that are semi dead, flames work the best in purging them from the world. Despite my interest in water magic, what are waves going to do? Wash them away?

That is why so many ignore water magic in favor of fire magic that is deadly and powerful and all too effective.

I will fight and kill anyone in this room who tries to touch me. I don't know if Wilder will help me, but I have to hope he will. In the very least, he had better not stand in my way.

He glances over at me out of the corner of his eye, and I try to discern what he is thinking and if he feels any true loyalty to me. Loyalty enough to choose me over his own father?

Not likely.

I notice his eyes dart down to my hand tapping a nervous rhythm on the cover of my spellbook. He stares at it for a second before looking away. His neck bobs as he swallows hard.

Before I can quite discern what I should make of that, there is a creak as the door opens. I turn, holding my breath, half expecting to see Wilder's father stride through the door, but instead I find myself starting into the familiar face of one of his two lackeys.

This is the thinner one, with the angular face as opposed to Asimov's fuller square shaped head and physique.

Gregos.

Or Wilder's shadow, as I have always referred to him. He always seems to be there behind him, ready to taunt me right after Wilder. I suppose I should have wondered where he has been all this time with Wilder being near me so much. But I didn't care enough to ask.

"Hello, Wilder," he says before his eyes flit to me. "Bronwyn, the surprise is all mine."

He smiles, flashing a smile of white teeth that are just a bit too pointed. His eyes in this lighting could be mistaken for deep brown, but I know that if I get closer, I would see the truth. His eyes are red, like the blood that now sustains him.

Wilder doesn't seem to notice the minute changes to his friend. I suppose it's fair, he did not grow up in a world of vampires like I did. He was only recently thrust into this world. And so, despite being a vampire himself, he is slow to pick up on the signs.

"Gregos?" Wilder asks, turning a clearly questioning gaze to his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"He is here," Professor Morozov replies in his stead, "because when I informed him of your recent engagement, he simply would not believe me unless I showed it to him. I'm surprised that you failed to discuss this engagement with your closest friends," Morozov continues in a slow tone, obviously challenging him.

"Gregos would know if he had showed up the last time Asimov and I had a drink," Wilder says coolly. "I would have broken the news to him then just as I did for Asimov, but he was unwell." Wilder pushes to his feet as his eyes flick over Gregos. "I am glad to see that you are better now."

"Better than ever, my friend," Gregos says with a smile. "Although that is no thanks to you."

Wilder raises his eyebrow. "If you are going to accuse me of getting you sick, you had might as well save your breath. I've been in perfect health."

Gregos glances at me, before he leans closer to Wilder. He raises his eyebrows. "We may be in the academy of Meruna, but you and I both bear the gifts of night do we not?"

Wilder's eyebrows furrow as he tries to make sense of Gregos's words. It's simple really, he is referring to the Lady Night, the demigod daughter of Neltruna, the goddess of darkness and monsters. Lady Night is the mother of monsters, considering that she birthed the first dragons, and her followers were the first vampires. The rivalry between the mother and daughter is bitter indeed and followers of Neltruna are usually self-proclaimed vampire hunters.

But I suppose Wilder wouldn't have too much knowledge of the demigods, not since their worship is illegal. He was not raised by a necromancer like I was. My father laughed in the face of worship of the gods. He and my sisters all serve the demigods instead.

I suppose I'm more of a neutral ground because I chose to pursue magic which was instituted by the gods instead of sorcery that the demigods wield. But I chose magic, not the gods.

But Wilder was likely raised on very little information on the demigods. He doesn't strike me as particularly devout either, so I doubt that he spends much time in temples worshiping the gods and learning their stories.

Wilder's eyebrows furrow as he tilts his head. "What are you… night gifts?"

This time Gregos looks straight at me as he says. "I have been welcomed into the order of monsters, my friend."

I stiffen, feeling my mouth drop open that he would so brazenly say such a thing in front of me, but then I notice Morozov watching me intently. Almost hungrily and I realize that this was always his intention to reveal this part of his secret.

He is testing me, seeing how I will react, and that reaction will determine my fate. In their eyes anyway.

The only problem is I'm not sure what reaction they expect me to give so that I can mimic it.

Fortunately, Wilder has enough of a reaction that it draws all the attention from me for a time. He stumbles away from Gregos, the back of his foot catching on the end of his chair, causing him to fall while the chair makes an unholy screeching sound as it is shoved to the side. I step forward in a vain attempt to catch him, but instead he catches himself on the table. His hand lands on a platter which sends lettuce and a roast pig flying all over him.

The pig drops to the floor, just as Wilder whirls on Morozov. "What have you done?"

"My purpose here," the professor replies calmly. "I went through your notes and selected the best."

"And you didn't consult me first?" Wilder grinds out. "He was my friend."

"I still am," Gregos says as his eyes flick to me. "I just happen to understand you better now."

Wilder turns to him, his nostrils flaring before he reaches out grasping my arm. "Come, Bronwyn."

His hand trembles slightly when Morozov barks. "Where are you going, boy? I am not done with you."

"But I am with you," he snaps out before he strides forward, dragging me after him. We are running by the time we reach the door. I'm tripping on the edges of my fancy skirts to try to keep up with him. I'm not sure if he is running from Morozov and Gregos despite the fact that they don't chase after us… or if he is just running from the thoughts in his head.

And if that's the case I don't have the heart to tell him that he won't succeed in doing that.

I should know that more than anyone. No matter how hard you run, you can never escape your own mind.