Chapter 12 Suspicious
Kael didn’t even flinch.
He grabbed the handle and pulled the knife out of his chest slowly, almost lazily, as if he was removing a thorn that mildly irritated him. The blade slid out smoothly, blood staining the steel, but his expression did not change. He let the knife fall to the floor with a dull clink and turned away from her, walking calmly toward the window again.
Lyra’s heart pounded. She refused to stop. She snatched the knife quickly, gripped it with both hands, and ran for him again. She aimed straight at his back.
But Kael didn’t even fully turn.
His hand shot back, catching her wrist right before the blade could reach him. His long fingers wrapped around her arm like iron cuffs. He turned his head halfway, his cold silver eyes narrowing at her with sharp irritation. She glared back at him without fear, even though his hold was hurting her.
“When did you suspect I was the Thorned Veil?” she asked, refusing to look away from him.
Kael slowly turned around completely, still holding her wrist. “I could see through you,” he said calmly, voice smooth like ice water. “Your energy, your hesitation, your innocence… everything about you screams secret.” He let out a small mocking laugh. “And touching your friend was intentional. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist coming for me. Anger makes you sloppy.”
Lyra clenched her jaw. He released her hand suddenly, as if she was no longer worth the effort.
She didn’t move away. She watched every step he took as he walked past her like she wasn’t a threat at all. “Are you going to tell the school?” she finally asked. Her voice was steady, but inside she was terrified. She stood there, watching him from behind.
Kael didn’t even look at her. “What do you think?” he asked with a smirk, already reaching for his pipe again.
Panic hit her. She quickly moved, stepping right in front of him so he couldn’t walk further. Then she dropped to her knees. The sound of her knees hitting the cold floor echoed in the room.
Kael stopped.
He looked down at her with bored curiosity, like someone watching an animal perform an unexpected trick.
“Please don’t,” she said quietly. “At least… not now.” Her head was slightly bowed, but her voice was firm. She didn’t want pity. She wanted time.
Kael didn’t answer her. He simply turned away and sat near the window again. He picked up the opium pipe, lit it, and pulled a long drag, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips. Like her begging hadn’t moved him at all.
Lyra lifted her head. “I will do everything you want,” she said in a low voice. “I just don’t want them knowing about my power already.”
That finally earned her a reaction.
Kael smirked. Slowly. Darkly. He exhaled smoke into the air and looked at her, eyes glowing faintly. “Now that is good,” he muttered. “You can go. I will think of something to use you for by tomorrow.”
Lyra’s fists clenched. She glared at him with pure hatred burning in her eyes. He didn’t even flinch at the look. He didn’t care. He simply waved her off slightly.
Her chest tightened with anger, embarrassment, and fear all at once, but she stood and stormed out of his chamber.
Kael watched the door close behind her.
“Finally,” he muttered with a dark, amused sigh. “Something interesting is happening. A fairy terrorizing Nocturne.”
Suddenly he coughed.
A sharp, painful cough ripped out of him, and then blood fell from his lips, staining his hand. He stared at the red smear, annoyed. The wound wasn’t healing as it normally would. Not with that dagger.
That dagger was crafted from moon-forged silver deadly to demons, deadly to werewolves, deadly to anything touched by dark magic. Her stab would take hours to recover from unless…
Unless he fed.
He wiped the blood from his mouth, irritation clouding his expression. “Not just her scent is incredible,” he muttered under his breath. “She is also…”
Before he could finish, a growl echoed inside his head. His wolf.
“She is ours.”
Kael ignored the voice and snapped the window open. Cold night air rushed in. Without hesitation, without another glance at the bloody floor or the broken pipe, he stepped onto the window ledge.
And he disappeared into the night.
.
.
Lyra slipped quietly through the window, landing softly on her toes. The dorm room was dark, only lit by the faint silver glow of the moon coming in from outside. Echo was still curled up on her bed, sleeping peacefully, her small figure wrapped in blankets like a child hiding from nightmares.
Good.
Lyra let out a slow breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She moved quickly, unfastening her black cloak and pulling the mask off her face. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from annoyance. Kael’s face… the way he looked at her… the way he discovered her identity so easily… everything irritated her.
She lifted the cloak and whispered a soft incantation. The fabric shimmered and dissolved into tiny sparks of green dust until it vanished completely. She did the same with the mask. No trace left behind.
After that, she quietly climbed onto her bed, trying not to make the springs creak. She pulled her blanket up and rested her head on the pillow—and that was when she noticed it.
Her crystal ball.
It was glowing softly with warm golden light from the small table beside her bed.
Her heart dropped.
“Oh no,” she whispered under her breath. Only her mother called her at this hour.
She grabbed the crystal ball quickly before the light woke Echo. Lyra rubbed the smooth surface with her thumb, and instantly the glowing brightened until her mother’s beautiful face appeared inside the orb. Long silver hair, sharp eyes, elegant features like someone carved from divine light. A perfectly regal fairy queen… even in spirit form.
“I have been trying to speak to you,” her mother said, her voice calm but firm.
Lyra forced a smile and whispered, “Sorry, Mother. I was asleep.”
Her mother squinted slightly. “I hear some news about your school. There was an assassin tonight. Hope that isn’t you.”
Lyra’s heart skipped, but she didn’t blink. “Not me. Why would you even suspect me, Mom?” she asked with the most innocent face she could manage.
Her mother didn’t fall for it.
“Because I know you,” she said plainly. “You pretend to be the most loving, gentle person ever… but you and I both know you are not.”
The smile slowly faded from Lyra’s face. Her eyes dimmed, and her expression went blank.
“I am not,” she muttered quietly.