Abyssal Arcanist [Chapter 6]

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More fun times with Abyssal Arcanist.

Shami

CHAPTER SIX

PICKING A PATH

Kristof stepped into the small room, and I immediately straightened my posture.

He was an impressive man, even upon first glance, from his height to his bulky physique. He wore a coat of dark, heavy wool, tailored to fit snugly against his broad shoulders. Its length reached down past his knees, the hem frayed from what I expected was a multitude of adventures. The lapels were lined with thick fur, serving both to keep out the chill and to add a touch of savage elegance.

“Hello,” I said, my voice quieter than I wanted. I silently cursed at myself, if only because I didn’t want to sound weak in front of the man.

Kristof’s dark gaze went to me, but then slid over to Professor Helmith, as though my presence wasn’t worth concerning himself with. He held a lidded tray in both hands, and he strode over to the other side of Helmith’s bed without saying a word.

His chestnut hair was cut short on the sides of his head, and his face was covered in slight stubble, as though he hadn’t shaved in just a few days. His skin was a mix of dark and fair—something in the middle.

Beneath the coat, Kristof wore a burgundy waistcoat embroidered with intricate patterns of gold and silver thread. His shirt was of a fine linen, its sleeves rolled up to the elbows to reveal the muscles of his forearms.

I rubbed at my own arms, suddenly more aware of my deficiencies than I had been a moment earlier.

Kristof’s arcanist mark…

It didn’t glow like Helmith’s, but it was impressive.

A dragon was wrapped around the seven-pointed star, the reptile’s form elegant and graceful. It was a celestial dragon, one of the rarest dragons in the world.

“How’re you feeling?” Kristof asked, his voice gentler than I had first imagined. “I managed to convince one of the chefs to make you raspberry tarts.” He set the lidded tray down on the nightstand next to the bed. When he lifted the lid, he revealed a glass of water, a glass of juice, a bowl of oatmeal, a bowl of soup, and two tarts.

“You didn’t need to get me all that,” Professor Helmith whispered with a smile. She placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “You know I can’t eat it all.”

When Kristof stared down at his wife, he seemed much less intimidating. Maybe even gentle and approachable. He touched the side of Helmith’s face with his knuckles. “I wanted to make sure you had all of your favorites, just in case you wanted even a nibble. I’ll eat the rest.”

“Thank you.” But then Helmith turned to me. “This is the student I was telling you about, Kristof. This is Gray Lexly.”

Kristof glanced up and met my eyes. I held my breath for a moment. Gone was all the love and gentleness—if he could kill me with his glower, I had no doubt he would.

“Good evening, Gray,” he said, his voice strained. “Is there a reason you’re not settling in your dorm for the night?”

“I came to see the professor.”

Twain perked up, his ears pointed high. “It isn’t curfew yet. We can go where we please, thank you very much.”

I placed a hand on his head and then dragged him closer to me, trying to indicate he shouldn’t speak. He mumbled some sort of disagreement, but not too loud. Once he was pressed up against my side, Twain narrowed his eyes and remained still.

Kristof didn’t respond.

Silence stretched between us.

“Can I have some of the tart?” Professor Helmith eventually asked, ending the awkward quiet in the room.

Kristof’s gentleness returned as he carefully cut a piece off the pastry and handed it to his wife. Helmith nibbled on the tart, consuming it with the delicate sensibilities of a squirrel.

“Gray,” Kristof muttered. “Is that your full name? Surely it’s short for something.”

I shook my head. “That’s it. That’s my whole name.”

“Hm.”

That was it. No more commentary. Kristof returned his attention to Professor Helmith, and even cut her another piece of tart. I was about to mention the ratatoskr arcanist, and tell Helmith all about this eldrin, when Kristof stood straight.

“Well, it’s late,” he said. “How about I escort Gray to his dorm, and you retire for the evening, my love?”

Professor Helmith’s eyelids were drooping slightly as she nodded. “All right. But perhaps Gray can come visit again.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will.” Kristof had spoken each word like they had hurt his mouth coming out.

He walked around Helmith’s bed, and with a half-sarcastic sweep of his arm, ushered me to the door. I scooped up Twain, who glared at Kristof the whole time, and then hesitated.

“Good night,” I said to Helmith.

Her violet eyes practically sparkled as she responded, “Sleep well, Gray.”

I went for the door, walking by Kristof, and exited out into the dimly lit hall. It was quiet. Most of the Academy had already retired for the evening. And for some reason, it felt colder than normal.

The door shut behind me. At first, I thought Kristof had shut and stayed in the room, but when I glanced over my shoulder, I nearly jumped.

He was out in the hall with me, his dark gaze serious.

“Can we help you?” Twain said, a cute little growl in his voice.

I rubbed his head. “Heh. What my eldrin means to say is… What’s wrong? Do you need something from us?”

Kristof glanced at the thick wooden door, and then back to me. “Rylee has told me all about you, Gray.”

There was a long pause. I didn’t know how to respond.

“She’s protected me in my dreams for years,” I finally replied. “I’ve known her for a long time.” But after that, I held my breath. I was about to say, she never mentioned you, but I doubted Kristof wanted to hear that.

“It seems you’ve caught up in the middle of something.” Kristof stayed close to the door, his hand clenched around the handle. “You’re being targeted by abyssal hell cultists, or some such nonsense.”

I had nothing to say to that, either.

Kristof waited for my reply, but when it didn’t come, he narrowed his eyes. “Rylee told me about how she dealt with the fragment of a Death Lord’s soul. How it came for you.”

Twain’s fur stood on end. His claws practically dug into my arm.

“Now that I’m back at Astra Academy, I’ll be the one handling things. Rylee’s class, these bizarre incidents that involve you—and I’m not going to tolerate anything getting worse. Do I make myself clear?”

The harshness in his voice bordered on a threat.

Twain clearly didn’t like this man. His body felt tense and coiled, like he was ready to leapt from my arms and scratch Kristof’s perfect face off.

“I understand,” I forced myself to say.

Kristof tightened his grip on the door handle. “And you should know, if there ever comes another moment where Rylee’s life is in danger because you live, I’m not going to hesitate to kill you.”

His words had long left the realm of threat and become an icy promise.

And while my eldrin didn’t like that, I couldn’t even bring myself to look Kristof in the eyes.

“If that moment does happen,” I said, my voice low, my attention on the floor, “you have my blessing.”

Twain jerked his head around to glance up at me with wide eyes. I patted his head, hoping he would understand. Professor Helmith had been there for me. For years. And she did save me from Death Lord Deimos at a cost to herself. I couldn’t take any more from her. Either I had to step up to the challenge, and start handling this myself, or else…

Kristof was going to end me.

After a long exhale, Kristof’s voice softened. “I understand you’re important to Rylee, so I will also try to handle whatever problems arise.” His tone seemed strained, like he almost regretted what he had said before. “Just get to bed. And stay out of trouble. For Rylee’s sake.”

“Right,” I murmured.

Kristof disappeared back into the room. I held Twain close to my chest as I ambled down the hallway. My thoughts were everywhere but in the Academy. I knew—in my gut—this situation wasn’t over. Deimos’s brother, Zahn, was still out there, and if people at Ashlyn’s cotillion were secretly worshipers of the Death Lords, I was certain there were more.

The walk back to the dorms was a long one.

“Gray,” Twain whispered. “I don’t want you to die.”

“That makes two of us,” I sardonically quipped.

“You shouldn’t talk like you will.”

“I don’t plan to.” After a sigh, I added, “I just really don’t want Professor Helmith to get hurt anymore.”

“We’ll figure out a way to deal with whatever comes our way. Together.” He purred after that, and some tension twisting in my chest lessened.

I patted his head again and smiled. “Thank you, Twain.”

It didn’t take much longer to reach the first-year dorms. The doors were closed, and the fire in the lounge area was snuffed. Everything had a tranquil quality to it.

But when I lifted my head, I spotted Sorin by our dorm door. He leaned against the wall, his considerable frame larger than most—even larger than some of the decorative suits of armor that filled the corners of rooms. The shadows around his feet fluttered and moved with a life of their own. Sorin’s knightmare was restless.

I walked over and Sorin snapped his attention to me.

“Gray?” he asked.

I nodded. “Sorin? What’re you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you.” He pushed away from the wall and stepped close. The shadows grew darker around us. “You didn’t go to the showers,” he said, his tone accusing in nature.

“No.” I set Twain down.

In the dim light of the quiet lounge, Sorin’s face reminded me of our father. He had these lines of disappointment in his expression. And when he stared at me—with the same gray-blue eyes I had—the situation seemed dire.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Listen, Gray. I don’t like that you’ve been lying to me.”

“Sorin, I—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it, Gray. You’ve been doing it more and more lately, over even the slightest things.” When he furrowed his brow, it was like a punch to the gut. “You can lie to everyone else, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me.”

Did I really need this, too? I already felt an overwhelming amount of guilt about Professor Helmith, but now I had to deal with the fact I had hurt my own twin brother. What was wrong with me?

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat.

Sorin shook his head. After a moment, he replied, “Forget it. Just don’t do it anymore in the future, all right? We’re closer than that.”

“I went to see Helmith.”

“I know.”

I met his gaze. “She’s not doing well.”

Sorin crossed his arms and frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I just want… to be better.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Why do I keep getting her in trouble? I need to be stronger, Sorin. Powerful. Just being an arcanist isn’t enough. I need to be a skilled arcanist. Someone who can handle themselves.”

“You know, at the end of our first year, we’re supposed to pick a specialty.” Sorin rubbed his chin for a moment. “Knights, artificers, mystic guardians, cultivators, viziers… The different education specialties, remember? Knights and mystic guardians both study a lot of combat arts. They’re powerful.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” I said. “Whatever it takes.” I had liked the sound of the artificers when I first heard of our choices, but now I wanted something more physically capable. While we hadn’t done much combat training so far in the Academy, I needed to learn more.

“I’ll be with you,” Sorin said.

I shook my head. “We don’t have to pick the same path.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Again, I found myself staring into his eyes—the same as mine—and I found myself wondering. “Don’t think you need to. If something else sounds better, you should go for it.”

Sorin shrugged his broad shoulders. “There’s nothing I want to do more than study the same things with you, Gray. We’ve basically done everything together. Why would I want to change that now?”

“I approve,” Twain said, jarring me from my thoughts. When I glanced down at him, he smiled. “Plus, I like Thurin.”

The shadows around us grumbled something I couldn’t understand. Then Thurin spoke from the darkness. “Yes, well, I find camaraderie is a sacred treasure. I spent hundreds of years alone. It was a torture no one should endure. You two brothers should never let go of your bond.”

“All right, all right,” I said, holding my hands up. “Enough of this. I get it.” Everyone’s insistence on sticking together was causing my throat to tighten with emotion. I didn’t want them to know that, though. Why was everyone being so… supportive?

I supposed I was just lucky.

Sorin half-smiled as he grabbed my upper arm. “Well, that’s all I had to say. Now you need to come look at the dorm. We changed it around for you.”

“For me?” I asked as he yanked me toward the door.

“That’s right. I think you’re going to like it, Gray.”