Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Chapter 49

The rain had not stopped for three hours.

It hammered against the windows of Valeria’s office like a thousand tiny fists, drumming a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. The sky outside was a bruised purple-gray, the clouds so thick and heavy they seemed to press down on the academy towers. The search parties had been forced to retreat an hour ago, their lanterns guttering in the downpour, their voices hoarse from calling names that the wind swallowed whole.

Two days. It had been two days since Soren and Thorne had disappeared into the Mistwood, and there was still no sign of them.

Valeria stood at the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the rain streak down the glass in rivulets. She had dismissed her classes for the day. She couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Soren’s face the way he’d looked at her across the chasm, the way he’d told her to go, the way he’d turned and vanished into the mist without looking back.

Why didn’t you let me stay? she thought, pressing her palm flat against the cold glass. Why did you always push me away?

Lila stirred restlessly in her mind. You need to calm down. This worry is eating you alive.

"How can I calm down? He’s out there. In this rain. With no shelter, no food, no help. And we’re stuck here, doing nothing."

The search parties will go out again as soon as the rain stops. They’ll find him.

"And if they don’t? If he’s already—" She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Soren Thornridge is not dead. You know him better than that. He’s survived worse than a forest and a storm.

"I know. But the rain is ruining everything. It’s washing away tracks. Making the terrain impossible to navigate. Every hour this storm continues is an hour they’re out there alone."

Lila was quiet for a moment. You still love him, don’t you?

Valeria closed her eyes. "I never stopped."

Even after he rejected you? Even after he chose the prince over you?

"Especially then." Her voice cracked. "I know he doesn’t love me. I know he never did. But that doesn’t make the feeling go away. It just makes it hurt more."

Then do something about it. Take a shower. Clear your head. You’re no good to anyone like this.

Valeria nodded slowly. It was practical advice, and Lila was nothing if not practical. She turned away from the window and began to undress, letting her clothes fall in a damp heap on the floor. The office was cold, but she barely felt it.

The bathroom was small but well-appointed, with a shower that used heated water channeled from the academy’s thermal springs. She stepped inside and turned the handle, letting the hot spray cascade over her body. The water was scalding, almost too hot to bear, but she welcomed the sensation. It gave her something to focus on besides the fear gnawing at her chest.

Steam filled the small space, fogging the mirror and the glass. Valeria closed her eyes and let the water run over her face, her shoulders, her breasts. She tried to empty her mind. Tried to let the heat dissolve the tension coiled in her muscles.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her hand moved almost of its own accord, sliding down her stomach, between her thighs. She was already wet from the shower, from the heat, from the ache that had been building inside her for days. Her fingers found her clit and began to circle, slow at first, then faster.

Yes, Lila murmured. Let it out. Let it all out.

She thought of Soren. Of his hands. Of the way he’d looked at her during the full moons, his eyes burning gold, his body driving into hers with a ferocity that left her breathless. She thought of the way he’d touched her, the way he’d growled her name, the way he’d made her feel wanted even when she knew it wasn’t real.

Her fingers moved faster. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. The water pounded against her skin, and her moans echoed off the tiled walls, mingling with the steam and the heat and the desperate, clawing need that had taken root in her chest.

He’s not yours, Lila whispered. He never was. But you can still have this. You can still remember.

Valeria’s climax crashed over her like a wave, and she pressed her forehead against the cold tile, her body shuddering, her breath ragged. The water continued to pour over her, washing away the evidence of her release, but it couldn’t wash away the hollow ache that remained.

When she finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a thick robe, she felt calmer. Not better. But calmer.

"Come back," she whispered to the empty room. "Please, Soren. Just come back."

Corvin was going crazy.

He paced the length of his room like a caged animal, his hands opening and closing at his sides, his mind churning with fear and frustration and the kind of helpless rage that had nowhere to go. The guards outside his door were a constant reminder that he was trapped that the Proctor had deemed him a liability, that he was being treated like a child who couldn’t be trusted.

Yesterday, he had tried to sneak into the forest. He had made it past the outer gates before three guards tackled him and dragged him back. Now there were two of them stationed outside his door, and his window had been bolted shut.

She’s out there, he thought, for the thousandth time. She’s out there, and I’m in here, doing nothing.

He had never felt so useless in his life.

Lucian had visited earlier, still pale and bandaged from his injury, but well enough to walk. He had tried to reassure Corvin, tried to tell him that Soren would keep Nyra safe, that the search parties would find them, that everything would be fine.

Corvin had nearly bitten his head off.

Now Lucian was gone, and Corvin was alone with his thoughts, which was exactly where he didn’t want to be. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face the way she’d looked at him at the lake, the way she’d listened when he told her about the bond, the way she hadn’t pulled away.

I’m the serpent, Nyra. And whether you want me or not, I’m yours.

He had meant it. He still meant it. And if she died in that forest before he could prove it to her, he would never forgive himself.

He slammed his fist against the wall. The stone was cold and unyielding, and the pain that shot through his knuckles was almost satisfying.

"Where are you?" he whispered. "Where the hell are you?"

Ragnar was not handling it well.

He sat in the corner of the common room, his head in his hands, his scarred face drawn and haggard. He hadn’t slept in two days. He hadn’t eaten. He had tried to join the search parties, but the Proctor had shut him down with the same brutal efficiency he’d used on Corvin.

Finn sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm of Ragnar’s anxiety.

"They’ll find him," Finn said softly. "Soren’s the best fighter in the academy. He’s survived things that would kill anyone else. He’ll keep Thorne safe, and they’ll both come back."

"You don’t know that."

"No. I don’t." Finn took his hand. "But I believe it. And you should too."

Ragnar looked at him, at the steady brown eyes and the easy smile that was trying so hard to be brave. "How are you so calm?"

"I’m not calm. I’m terrified." Finn’s voice cracked. "Thorne is my friend. My roommate. The first person at this academy who looked at me like I wasn’t a failure. And Soren is your best friend. And they’re both out there, and we’re in here, and I can’t—" He stopped. Swallowed. "I can’t lose them, Ragnar. Either of them."

Ragnar pulled him into his arms. "We won’t. We won’t lose them. They’ll come back."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

It was a promise neither of them could keep. But it was all they had.

The Undercroft dorm was too quiet.

Marek sat on his bunk, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes fixed on the empty bed across the room. Thorne’s bed. The blankets were still rumpled from the morning they’d left. A half-empty water skin sat on the table beside it. Everything was exactly as Nyra had left it, as if she might walk through the door at any moment and complain about the cold.

Jasper sat at the foot of his own bunk, his ever-present book closed in his lap. He hadn’t turned a page in two days. His sharp eyes, usually so focused, were distant and unfocused.

"It feels wrong," Marek said quietly. "The room. Without Thorne in it."

"I know," Jasper replied.

"I keep expecting him to walk in. To make some sarcastic comment about the food or the training or Soren."

"I know."

"We’ve only known him for a few months. How can it feel like this?"

Jasper was silent for a long moment. Then: "Because he matters. Some people just... matter. They come into your life, and suddenly you can’t imagine it without them."

Marek nodded slowly. "Do you think he’s alive?"

"I think Thorne is stronger than anyone gives him credit for. And I think Soren would burn the world down before he let anything happen to him." Jasper finally looked up from his book. "So yes. I think he’s alive. I have to think that."

"Me too."

They sat in silence, listening to the rain hammer against the windows, and hoped.