Chapter 41 41- Do Not Kiss Him Where People Can See
LEXI
Medicinal magic is an interesting class, but so far it’s definitely one of the least hands-on ones. At least for now. That doesn’t really surprise me. Professor Young makes a point of explaining, more than once, that there is an awful lot that can go wrong when you’re doing magic on people or other living creatures. Unlike potions or spellcasting, there’s no safe practice dummy. Healing magic doesn’t behave properly on imitations of life, and it behaves very badly on anything dead. She says that last part with a very firm expression and a visible shudder, which is enough to convince everyone to stop wishing for shortcuts. So instead, she drills theory into us. Over and over. Anatomy, magical flow, common failure points, ethical considerations, warning signs to stop immediately. It’s the kind of content that feels overwhelming at first, but the more she talks, the more I can see the logic behind it. Healing magic isn’t flashy. It isn’t dramatic. It’s precise. Intentional. And apparently extremely unforgiving if you get it wrong. The other reason we aren’t doing anything practical yet is, frankly, obvious once she says it out loud. To use healing magic on someone… They actually have to need healing. And no one here is keen to start causing injuries just so we can practice fixing them. Based on the textbook, and the way Professor Young keeps carefully dancing around the topic, I’m pretty sure the first thing we’ll eventually be allowed to try is healing bruises. She hasn’t outright confirmed it yet, but it makes sense. From what I’ve read, bruises are relatively low-risk. There’s very little that can go seriously wrong unless you majorly mess it up, and even then the consequences are usually limited to discomfort rather than permanent damage. Plus, bruises are common. Almost everyone probably already has one somewhere if they think about it hard enough. A bumped shin. A forgotten knock against a table. Something earned through daily clumsiness. Unless you’re some kind of super-graceful, never-trip, never-bump superhero. In which case, good for you, honestly, but also please stay away from me, because that level of coordination is deeply unsettling.
I am beyond focused during today’s class. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I tell myself it’s because I missed class yesterday and I don’t want to fall behind. Because I care about my grades. Because I’m responsible. Because this is important. All of that is true… But it’s also not the whole truth. The real problem is that every time my mind even brushes against the memory of what just happened with Blake, my concentration detonates completely. I want to squeal in delight. I want to crawl under my desk and never make eye contact with another living being again. Preferably both at the same time. I kissed his cheek. Was that too much? Was it overstepping? I mean, he kissed the top of my head the other night, so it’s not like I invented the intimacy out of nowhere. But that was different, wasn’t it? That was quiet. Private. Just the two of us, tucked away in my room, late at night, when everything felt softer and slower. I did it in a classroom, in the middle of the day. Okay, technically most people had already left. And technically it was quick. And technically it was just a cheek kiss. But still. That feels like it should matter somehow. How does Blake feel about public displays of affection anyway? The fact that I even have that thought makes me want to bury my face in my notes. It’s definitely too early to be worrying about things like PDA. I barely even know where we stand. We’re… Friends. Very close friends. But he’s a friend who gives me priceless jewellery and brushes my hair and kisses my forehead and… Okay. Right. Focus. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t actually think it would bother him. Not in the way it might bother other people. It’s not like his reputation is fragile. If anything, it feels pretty well set in stone at this point. People already believe the worst about him. I’m not sure it could realistically get much better. It could get worse. But better? That feels unlikely. That’s the thing about confirmation bias. Once people decide what they believe, they start collecting evidence to support it and quietly discarding anything that contradicts it. Blake is dangerous. Blake is violent. Blake is a monster. So anything that fits that narrative gets magnified, and anything that doesn’t, like the way he watches out for me, the way he listens, the way he restrains himself, is conveniently ignored. And it frustrates me. Because Blake is not a bad guy. Not really. Skipping classes? Lots of people do that. Being blunt? So what. Being intense? That’s not a crime. He hasn’t actually done anything awful. At least… Not to me. And that’s where the tiny, uncomfortable voice in the back of my mind starts clearing its throat. No, he hasn’t done anything bad to me. And yes, he’s been kind, protective, patient in his own very dragon-shaped way. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he could be dangerous. Easily. Effortlessly. It wouldn’t take much to push him over that line. And when I really sit with that thought, what unsettles me isn’t the idea that he might lose control, it’s the realisation that he doesn’t actually need to. Everything Blake does is intentional. Deliberate. Chosen. There aren’t many consequences here that would truly stop him if he decided something was worth doing. And that means that right now, the only thing keeping everything calm is the fact that he doesn’t want to do anything terrible. At the moment, that feels safe. But what if something changed? What if someone crossed a line? What if he decided the rules no longer applied? I don’t know what he would do. And more frightening than that… I don’t know how I would react. That thought sits heavy in my chest as I force my attention back to the lecture, pen moving automatically across the page while my mind keeps circling the same truth over and over again. Blake isn’t dangerous to me. But it feels like the world around us keeps daring him to prove something. And I don’t know what happens if he finally accepts the challenge.
Class finishes and I’m gathering my things, already half-turned toward the door and mentally scanning the hallway for Blake, when Professor Young clears her throat beside my desk.
“Alexis.” She says. The sound makes me pause. I look up and find her watching me with that calm, assessing expression she always wears, curious, but not intrusive.
“How are you doing? Fully recovered, I hope?” She asks. I smile, genuinely this time.
“You can call me Lexi. And yeah, I’m better. Completely.” I lift my arm a little, half out of habit now, half to reassure her. Her expression softens.
“I’m glad to hear it. And please, call me Layla. I’m not particularly attached to formalities.” She adds. That catches me off guard in the best way. It feels like a small gift, being invited into a less rigid space.
“Sure.” I say, warmth creeping into my voice. She hesitates for a beat, then leans against the edge of the desk beside me, lowering her voice slightly, not secretive, just considerate.
“I’ve noticed, that you seem to grasp a lot of the foundational material very quickly. Especially when it comes to anatomy, triage logic, and general biological principles. You ask… Precise questions. Do you have any prior experience in medicine?” She asks slowly. I nod.
“Yeah. I was studying nursing before I came here. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan.” I gesture vaguely around the room. She tilts her head and I explain a little more, about the Academy letter, about how unprepared I’d felt at first. Her eyes brighten, not with judgment, but with interest.
“That explains quite a bit, and it makes me even more curious to see what kind of shifter you turn out to be.” She says. There’s a pause, then she continues more carefully.
“As a professor, I don’t believe in holding a student back just because the rest of the class needs to catch up. Given your background, I was wondering if you might be interested in taking on some… Additional tasks. Nothing dangerous, but I thought you might like to try a few practical tasks to help ground your theoretical work a little.” She suggests. I blink.
“You’d be doing them here.” She adds quickly.
“Under my supervision. And no practising them outside of my supervision until I have EXPLICITLY cleared you to do so. No experimentation, no unsanctioned spellwork. I take safety very seriously.” She warns. I sit up so fast my chair gives a faint scrape against the floor. My pulse kicks up, not from fear, but from excitement.
“Yes! Absolutely. Please. I’d love that.” I say immediately. She smiles at my enthusiasm, clearly pleased.
“Honestly, this is the one class where I feel… Comfortable. Confident. The others are interesting, but they’re definitely outside my comfort zone.” I add, unable to stop myself. I hesitate, then admit more quietly,
“Not that that’s a bad thing. I know I came here to learn new things and push myself. It’s just… Nice to feel competent. To feel like I’m not constantly playing catch-up.” I explain. Layla nods, understanding flickering across her face.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Being grounded in one area often makes it easier to branch out into others.” She says gently. I feel so understood right now. She straightens, claps her hands softly once, and gestures toward the front of the room.
“Now, shall we get started?”