Thornhill Academy. Chapter 42

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt, but the universe must’ve been playing tricks on me, because under all my irritation, something twisted low in my gut. Guilt, maybe. Or some other ridiculous twinge reminding me I owed these two, for saving my life, for dragging me out of the woods when I couldn’t pull myself.

“Fine,” I huffed, the word leaving my mouth like it had been pried out with pliers.

Beside me, Tessa’s eyes went wide, glowing with that *really?* look, like she couldn’t believe I was actually letting them in.

I leaned closer, muttering just for her, “Kael’s already seen it.” I shrugged like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter.

Except, of course, nothing was private around shifters. Both Kael and Evander’s heads turned sharply, hearing every word. Evander’s gaze snapped straight to Kael, sharp as a blade. The dragon-boy’s jaw tightened. Guess someone had left out a few details about how, exactly, I’d gotten back to my room that night. Kael only smirked wider, like the whole thing was a private joke between him and the world.

**Evander**

Kael never said he’d gone into her room. He’d told me he got her back there, yes, but not that he’d crossed the threshold, not that he’d been inside with her. My dragon bristled at the omission, claws raking against the inside of my chest. *He should have told us.*

I kept my face neutral, but in my head the question burned, and I knew damn well I’d be asking him about it later. He could smirk all he wanted, but I wasn’t letting that slide.

For now, though, I swallowed it down because my dragon was… pleased. More than pleased. He practically purred in the back of my mind at the thought of being invited, welcomed, however begrudgingly, into her space. Even if Kael had forced the issue with that cocky grin of his, it didn’t matter. The fact was simple: she’d said yes.

*We are being honoured,* he rumbled, smug and territorial all at once. *Our mate’s den.*

I didn’t bother reminding him that it wasn’t really an “invitation” so much as Kael badgering her until she gave in. It didn’t matter. To him or, apparently, to me, it was enough.

I’d been curious about her sleeping quarters from the first night she arrived. And now, finally, I’d see them for myself. Perhaps there were things I could buy her, things to make her more comfortable and less isolated. I knew she’d been spending too much time tucked away up here, missing meals in the hall. That was the exact reason Kael and I had tracked down her class schedule and waited outside her room for her today. I needed to see her. Needed to know with my own eyes that she was fine, that I hadn’t scared her. That my dragon hadn’t. We reached the narrow door that led to the attic stairwell, and the scent of old wood and dust hit my nose. The stairs wound upward into shadows, the kind that whispered of forgotten things. The first step groaned under my boot, a long, splintering creak like the whole staircase was threatening to give out under my weight.

*Careful*, my dragon murmured, his attention sharpened. *Do not break her path. She walks here alone.*

Each step felt like it might collapse, but I kept moving, Kael’s easy stride ahead of me, Allison small and stubborn between us. My dragon pressed harder against my ribs, restless, already eager to see what she had built for herself in this hidden place.

The stairs ended in a narrow landing, a plain door waiting at the top like the entrance to a forgotten storage loft. I expected the inside to smell of mildew and rot, a place no one in their right mind would call home, but when the door swung open, my chest locked. The attic wasn’t a punishment. It was a world. Her world. Moulded to perfection, for her. Warmth spilled over me, the kind that came not from fire, but from care. The floors were covered in a soft, black carpet that shimmered faintly when the light caught the silver threads. A living space spread directly across the centre, two green armchairs circling a star-and-moon rug that pulsed like a night sky underfoot. An enchanted television blinked quietly from the far wall, its glow casting a modern ease that clashed strangely with the Gothic bones of the attic.

My dragon rumbled, approving, as my eyes tracked to the bed. Enormous. Fluffy. It sat beneath a stained-glass window, the glass bleeding jewel tones across dark sheets and pillows piled high enough to drown in. Curtains of midnight velvet framed it, and a sleek wardrobe gleamed nearby as though it had been born of magic itself. Would I one day be honoured enough to sleep with my mate there? I stood with my feet frozen to the floor as I took in every inch of the space. I realised my mouth had gone slightly dry. This wasn’t a hovel. It wasn’t a hiding place. It was a sanctuary.

My dragon pressed hard against me, hot satisfaction rolling through his voice. *She made a nest. Ours.*

I swallowed, forcing my shoulders back, pretending like my heart wasn’t clawing at my ribs. “This… isn’t what I expected,” I admitted, voice lower than I meant it to be. My eyes found her in the middle of it all, small, guarded, chin tilted like she was daring me to judge. I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because for the first time, I understood something, this room wasn’t just comfort. It was survival, built piece by piece by a girl who’d had nothing. And the dragon inside me knew better than I did: it was beautiful.

I watched her cross the room like she’d been living here for years instead of weeks, bare feet on that star-streaked carpet, her friend a little orbit at her side. She busied herself at the fridge and cupboards, pulling out food in quick, practised movements. The normalcy of it struck me harder than I expected. She wasn’t a girl who almost drowned and bled out in the woods last night; she was just… living. Then she went for the plates. They were stacked on a high shelf, just out of reach. She rose onto the tips of her toes, fingers stretching, stubborn jaw set like she’d rather dislocate a shoulder than ask for help. I moved before I thought. One stride and I was behind her, heat and instinct. My hand came up over hers, easily plucking the stack down from the shelf.

“Got it,” I said quietly, my voice rougher than it should’ve been.

She stiffened for a fraction of a second, then huffed out a breath and looked up at me from under her lashes. So close I could see the faint bruise along her cheekbone the healers hadn’t completely erased. My dragon purred, pleased to be useful, to be near.

I set the plates on the counter in front of her. “No sense breaking your neck for a sandwich,” I added, softer, trying for light but not quite hitting it.