Aveline did not care what anyone thought of her, but she would be lying if she said she did not take a small, private pleasure in hearing what the old man had just said about his own granddaughter and Theron. It was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.
Well. At least he was not completely insane. There was still a scrap of sense in him sowhere.
Her gaze drifted to the chain resting against her throat. It was solid gold, heavy in a way that felt strangely reassuring, and that alone was enough to make her decide to keep it. It should be worth a lot.
She glanced toward Theron to see whether he looked offended or hurt by any of this, but he had already drawn back, standing at a distance as though none of it had anything to do with him at all. That was enough for her.
If he chose to leave Rosalyn to fu on her own, then Rosalyn could keep her fury. Aveline had no intention of interfering.
And that woman, if she possessed even a shred of pride, should not still be clinging so desperately to a position she clearly could not bear to share.
Aveline’s lips curved before she could stop them, a mocking little smirk that she did not bother to hide when she looked at Rosalyn. Honestly, she would not want that humiliation even on her worst enemies, but since Rosalyn was her love rival, and the one so desperate to possess it, then fine. Let her have the misery that ca with it.
Turning away, Aveline’s attention was captured by the dallion. She wondered what the carving ant. Was it anything like the token Theron had once given her? Sothing protective, perhaps. Sothing secret. She did not want to spend the whole day wondering, so she pressed it.
The change ca instantly.
Fire flared around her in a perfect ring, rising like a wall of living gold. For everyone else, it looked violent and impossible. For her, it felt no more threatening than a passing breeze brushing against her skin.
Aveline’s eyes widened in stunned shock.
When she lifted her hand away from the dallion, the flas dropped at once, collapsing downward like a curtain being drawn. Only then did she realize how completely the corridor had gone silent. Everyone was staring. Their jaws had gone slack. Even Rosalyn looked as though her thoughts had stumbled into a wall.
Aveline turned toward Theron first.
"Did you see that?" she asked, a little breathless, a little delighted.
Theron smiled.
She was certain of it, even from where she stood.
Then she looked at Lucien.
"Did you see that, old man?" she asked, this ti with clear amusent in her voice.
Lucien gave a low chuckle, the sound warm in a way that surprised her. "I told you I would protect you," he said.
Aveline’s eyes brightened. "Is this limitless, or does it have a limit?"
She could not help herself. Before even waiting for an answer, she pressed the dallion twice more, eager to test it before she reached Lucien. There was no fear in her, only curiosity, the bright, relentless kind that made her impossible to ignore.
Lucien’s mouth softened into sothing almost fond. "As long as you wear it, you’re protected." He reached out and patted her head. "And... You may visit my lab any ti you want, Leveret," he said.
Leveret.
Aveline blinked. "I can?" Her eyes widened in open delight. "Then I will go now. I have a few doubts..."
She did not care that the others were staring at her as though she had just wandered into the inner circle of so impenetrable genius. She did not care that Rosalyn stood there fuming with jealousy, her pride raw and exposed for everyone to see. None of that mattered.
What mattered was the dallion. What mattered was the old man who had just given her a door into sothing she wanted to understand. What mattered was the thrill of being allowed closer.
She glanced once more at Theron and gave him a bright smile.
To her surprise, he returned it at once, as if the expression had slipped out of him before he could think better of it.
"You will be my apprentice, Leveret," Lucien said, and for once, there was real enthusiasm in his voice, sothing rare enough that even the watching students seed startled by it. Then, with a gentleness no one there would have expected from him, he led her toward the lab.
Theron felt the word strike sowhere deep in his chest.
Leveret.
It tugged at him with a strange, intimate ache he did not understand. Sowhere far beneath thought and reason, sothing in him stirred, and a voice echoed through that hidden place, low and familiar.
My little Hare.
Theron clutched at his head.
The sensation vanished as quickly as it had co, but it left a sharp sting behind, one that made his brow crease in confusion.
Aveline, anwhile, had already stepped toward the lab.
Rosalyn moved at once, trying to follow, trying to force her way back into her grandfather’s attention, but the door shut in her face with a finality that made the ssage impossible to miss.
The onlookers scattered almost imdiately, eager to put distance between themselves and Rosalyn’s gathering fury. No one wished to remain nearby when humiliation curdled into wrath.
From farther away, Aelion watched everything unfold in silence.
Then he frowned.
"This is odd," he murmured under his breath. "Very odd."
-----
Rosalyn turned sharply to look at Theron, her composure fraying at the edges. "Aren’t you going to say anything?" she asked.
Theron’s head felt as though it had been split apart and hastily shoved back together wrong. There was a dull ache behind his eyes, a strange pressure in his skull, and a throb in his chest that made his thoughts feel heavy and uncooperative. He turned to look at her slowly, irritation already rising before he even fully focused on her face.
This woman.
She managed to vex him simply by existing. He found himself exhausted whenever she spoke.
"I will drop you at your mansion," he said flatly.
That was what he was supposed to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Rosalyn’s jaw tightened so hard it looked as though it might crack. But after one sharp glance around them, she swallowed her outrage. She did not want to create more rumors, not after everything that had just happened. Not with so many eyes still lingering on them, hungry for a spectacle.
So she said nothing.
She only held herself stiffly as the carriage carried them away.
Inside, the air was thick with silence.
Theron stared out through the window, but he was not really seeing the streets passing by. His mind kept circling back to the sa impossible thought, the sa strange, stubborn confusion.
Who had he called little hare?
The words felt absurd in his own head, yet they had not co from nowhere. They had slipped through him with the force of a mory that refused to stay buried. He frowned slightly, trying to grasp it, but the mont he reached for it, it seed to dissolve just beyond his understanding.
Beside him, Rosalyn watched him in growing frustration.
Then, all at once, she moved.
Before he could register what she was doing, she shifted onto him, straddling his lap, and seized his collar with both hands.
The suddenness of it made the carriage feel even smaller.
Theron’s body went still.
Rosalyn leaned in close, her face inches from his, her eyes bright with anger and sothing far more desperate beneath it. She was no longer interested in dignity, nor in appearances. Whatever patience she had left had already burned away, and now all that remained was her need to force a reaction out of him, to drag his attention back where she believed it belonged.
She leaned to kiss him.
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