“Gods, you’re insufferable.”

As I hold the cup, a memory comes to mind. It’s of me and Miya in the tea garden—of him offering me tea and the way it provided me a little peace. A reminder that this is a ceremony, a bonding of its own.

Marshal raises an eyebrow. “Well, are you going to give me the cup?”

I shake my head and hold it to him, the way that Miya had held the cup to me. Marshal blinks, realizing something is transpiring.

I lean forward, offering him the tea.

Quietly, all snarkiness gone, he drinks; allowing me to serve him. As the moment passes his color restores, and before my eyes, he becomes nearly whole again.

“Thank you,” he says, handing me the empty cup. Our fingers graze and a shiver runs down my spine. “After what happened at the Academy, you had every right to let me bleed out.”

“True,” I say, placing the cup on the tray. “Unfortunately, because the gods love irony, I need you.”

His eyes sweep over me, and I know he truly feels better because I swear the sheet over his groin tents. Even on death’s doorstep, he’s a horny asshole.

“Not like that,” I say before he makes me change my mind. Marshal doesn’t know about the bond and how we’ve determined that together we provide the balance needed to win this thing. The same way Morgan and the Guardians did with the Morrigan. It’s sensitive information and I’m not about to share it with him. Not until I really trust him. “I need you to show me how to get back to the Academy.”

“Oh.” His expression falls. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’ll send some clothing in for you, and when you’re ready, we can leave.”

He nods. “I won’t be long.”

I walk toward the door.

“Valkyrie.”

I turn and see that he’s swung his legs over the side of the bed and has a grimace on his face.

“Thank you,” he says again, looking more human and sincere than I’ve ever seen him.

I nod and exit the room. Morgan told me to heal him, to use him, but she also told me to trust my gut. My gut tells me that Marshal is still a wild card and until he proves otherwise, I can’t let my guard down.

4

Luke

We’ve combed the Academy, room after room, looking for any sign of Hildi or Marshal. They’re not in the classrooms, or bedrooms. They did not go to the portal that leads to the tavern or the hidden passage to the training room. Elizabeth checks the room she shared with Hildi over and over, but comes up empty handed every time.

“You looked in the library?” I asked outside of Marshal’s rooms. My search had been pointless, the room was wrecked.

“Yes, every nook and row. Nothing.”

The floors shake. It happens every f

ew minutes now. A painting on the wall falls, crashing to the ground. The frame cracks and splits apart.

“Let’s head to the instructor’s hallway,” I suggest, stepping over a statue that has shattered into a million pieces.

“Been there.”

“Well, let’s do it again.”

She sighs. We’re both irritable and this entire thing is futile. Regardless, I lead the way, walking down the hall toward the wing where the instructors had their rooms.

What am I doing?

Tags: Angel Lawson Academy of Immortals Vampires
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