Thornhill Academy. Chapter 39

His stare was a blade pressed to my skin cold, deliberate, waiting for me to slip. I held my ground, every wall I had stacked high and hard against him. The silence stretched, the tick of the clock on the wall louder than the beat of my pulse. He wanted me to fold. Wanted me to break. Not happening. I crossed my arms, chin high, every ounce of defiance stitched into my body language. “Done yet? Because I’ve got actual classwork to pretend to care about.”

Hill’s jaw flexed, something sharp flickering across his storm-grey eyes. He was in my head, I could feel it, but the walls held. The siphoned magic hummed steady through me like scaffolding, locking every door he reached for. His lips pressed into a thin, irritated line before he exhaled a long, slow sigh, the kind meant to scold more than any words.

“You’re determined to learn the hard way, I see,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his voice sharpened, cool and clinical. “You should know, Principal Scorched just assigned Cage as your new tutor.”

The words slammed into me harder than any fist.

“What?” My laugh cracked, too sharp, too brittle. “You’re joking. That asshole? The same one who nearly killed me yesterday?”

Hill didn’t flinch. “Consider it… a test of character. His, and yours. He’s under strict orders. If he lays a finger on you in harm, he’s expelled. Permanently.”

I scoffed, heat bubbling under my skin. “Great. So I just get to play homework buddies with my attempted murderer. Sounds fucking brilliant.”

He leaned back against his desk, arms folded, studying me like I was a puzzle that didn’t fit together. “Or,” he said softly, “it’s an opportunity. To see just how much control you really have, Rivers.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste iron. He wasn’t going to get answers out of me. Not today. Not ever. But this new twist? Oh, I could already feel Cage’s smug grin in my future, and it made me want to set the whole classroom on fire.

The door clicked open, and I shot out of Hill’s office like the walls themselves were about to close in on me. My eyes found Tessa instantly, safe, familiar, the only sane thing in this hellhole and I cut straight for her desk.

“Rivers.”

His voice was calm, too calm, which made my stomach drop. I froze mid-step, back prickling. Slowly, I turned.

Hill stood by the blackboard, hands clasped behind him, gaze sharp as ever. “Not there.” His chin angled toward the far row. *Toward him.*

Cage sat sprawled in his chair like a king on a throne, bruised eye dark against his smug grin. He lifted his fingers in a mock little wave, like he’d been waiting for this.

My insides curdled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sit.” Hill’s tone was final, steel wrapped in silk. “He’s your tutor now. That means proximity.”

Tessa’s eyes were wide, her mouth opening with protest, but I shook my head. The last thing I needed was her in Hill’s line of fire, too. So I dragged my feet, every step a quiet war, and dropped into the empty chair beside Cage. The scrape of it on the floor was louder than my pulse.

“Aw, look at that,” Cage drawled under his breath, leaning just close enough to make my skin crawl. “The teacher wants us to be study buddies. Must’ve seen how much you like my company.”

I clenched my jaw, staring daggers into the desk in front of me. *Don’t rise to it. Don’t give him the win.* But god, if Hill wasn’t watching, I’d have siphoned the smug right out of him just to wipe that grin off his stupid face.

Hill didn’t even bother explaining the assignment before sweeping back into his chair, already scribbling notes none of us could read. Typical.

Beside me, Cage flipped open his book with one hand and shoved mine closer with the other. “Page two-thirty,” he muttered. “Try to keep up.”

I didn’t move. My book stayed shut, my arms crossed tight across my chest.

He huffed, tapping the page with one long finger. “You know, ignoring me doesn’t make you smarter. This is literally the easiest part. Even a stray like you could manage it.”

My gaze stayed locked on the far wall. The tiny crack in the plaster was more interesting than his voice.

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a mock whisper. “Fine. Don’t open your book. But when Scorched tests you and you fail, it’s your ass, not mine.”

Still nothing. My silence was deliberate, razor-sharp.

Cage snapped his fingers once in front of my face. “Hey. I said page two-thirty. Not complicated. Would you like me to read it to you? I can even use small words.”

I slowly turned my head, gave him one long, withering look, and then went right back to staring at the wall.

For a beat, he was quiet. Then he laughed under his breath, low, sharp, incredulous. “You’re really gonna do this, huh? Pretend I don’t exist?”

I clenched my jaw.

His grin twitched, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. “Alright, Rivers. Let’s see how long you can keep it up.”

And I did. I kept my book closed. Kept my eyes forward. Kept every ounce of patience I had left wrapped tight around me like armour, because if I cracked even once, I knew I’d give him the satisfaction of fire.

The minutes ticked by, slow and deliberate, marked only by the scratch of quills and the occasional cough from across the room. Hill never looked up, though I could feel him tracking every move from behind that unreadable mask of his. Beside me, Cage shifted. The scrape of his chair legs grated louder than it needed to. He drummed his fingers on the desk, then snapped his book closed, the sound sharp enough to turn heads.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. “I’m trying to do you a favour.”

I tilted my chin, still staring at the wall, every nerve screaming at me not to give him what he wanted.

“Rivers,” he hissed, voice low, hot. “Do you think I like this? Sitting here, spoon-feeding you basics like you’re some clueless first-year? You think I asked for this gig?”

My silence was a blade.

His laugh came out jagged, frustrated. “Gods, you’re infuriating.”

I heard his quill snap in half. Bits of wood clattered against the desk. A faint hum of power rippled off him, sharp and restless. He was losing patience, and he hated that I wasn’t. I kept my gaze forward, nails digging crescent moons into my palms under the desk.

Finally, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, voice soft but lethal. “Keep this up, stray. But when you fall flat on your face, don’t you dare look at me to pick you up.”

I sat there, still and silent, savouring every ounce of his frustration.