The Rector doesn’t interact with students or our daily life here. So what the hells did I just do to get put on his notice? I can already feel my palms sweating and my breath coming quick at the idea, but I try to pretend I’m calm as I nod to Ryke.

"I do not like this," Typhon notes.

"Agreed."

I catch Beck and Ambrose exchanging a look as Primal Ryke walks away.

"Private meeting with Rector Voss," Beck whispers, wiggling his eyebrows. "Sounds... intense."

"Stop it," Mireen says, shoving him. "It's probably nothing. And Nessa is getting really good. Better than most of us. They're probably just wanting to help along a student with so much potential. Maybe he wants to talk about putting her in a more advanced class, or something."

I smile, but there's a tight ball of worry in my chest.

Attention. This is exactly what I've been trying to avoid for so long. A one on one with the Rector himself is… concerning to say the least. I think about slipping out of class to tell Raith and ask his opinion, but when I look toward the doorway where he stood, I see he's gone.

All that's left is the lingering heat of where I felt his gaze on my skin and the tendrils of fear spreading through my insides.

Tomorrow, I'll meet with Rector Voss, and I'll hope like hells he's not about to interrogate me about Typhon or my affinity. If he so much as suspects what I am, the “meeting” could be more like an execution.

16

The western wing library has become my sanctuary. Unlike the main library where many still study for more generic topics, this one is reserved for aspirants and above. It's older, with towering shelves that reach to vaulted ceilings and narrow windows that let in shafts of colored light. Ancient tomes are chained to the shelves, their spines cracked with age and use. The air smells of dust, parchment, and aged leather.

The only sounds are the occasional rustle of a page being turned or the scratch of a quill.

I've claimed a table in the furthest corner, hidden behind a shelf of texts on elemental taxonomy. It's late evening, and most students have already left for dinner. Perfect for reading more of my unbound book away from prying eyes. I’ve long since memorized and destroyed the key Bastian made for me, meaning it’s safe to read the book in slightly more public places.

Typhon lounges beside me in his dragon form, tail curled around the table's legs, wings tucked tight against his serpentine body. He lifts his head occasionally to scan for threats before returning to what I can only describe as a draconic nap.

"You should eat," he grumbles as my stomach makes an embarrassingly loud noise. "Human bodies are inconveniently fragile. Without food, you grow weak quickly."

"I will. After this section."