Her Icicles no longer dogged her every step like vexing, lost shadows.

Two possibilities existed that Astrid could think of to explain it: either Astrid had done a really shoddy job at training them, which she refused to take responsibility for, or perhaps Astrid had never been Davina's intended target.

Maybe it had been Matthias whom Davina wished to keep eyes on.

According to Matthias, her mother had served as his portal anchor for his crossing from Soleita. It made little sense on all accounts. The first being that Davina held no connection to the elements, and thus couldn't have been a magical anchor. It was why Rainier's queen had despised Soleita since being a young girl; the Soleitian Academy had refused to allow her admittance when it was what she had been destined for. Prophesied. But her mother's destiny had been denied.

Davina fashioned herself into our saviour.

Astrid cursed Serah's voice in her thoughts and shook her traitorous head furiously. 

Regardless, what would Davina have wanted from a young Matthias? What had made him special enough to her?

What should Astrid believe? Who could she believe?

Trust always hovered so far out of her reach.

Holding post outside Sebastian's room stood Melvin, clad in his full guard regalia. Before he spotted her, Astrid hesitated and then pressed back into the wall around the corner. Confusion and fury over what had transpired with Matthias showed in the residual tremors of her fingers. She couldn't let bumbling-happy-go-lucky Melvin, of all people, see her like this. Besides, she would not allow rumors of this visit to get back to Queen Davina until Astrid had decided on some answers for herself.

So, Astrid clamped one hand over her tightening cuff and a fist against her stomach and screwed her eyes shut.

Air. She forced the threads into existence. Air!

The element responded slowly at first, like some molten sludge from an alchemist's test tube. It had always been her worst element to manipulate despite the fact its threads were constantly everywhere. Her cuff grasped the skin above her elbow like a ring of pointed nails; it bore the semblance of her mother.

"Blasted device!"

She pressed against her abdomen harder, directly over the spot she had normally felt Sebastian's magic stir against her own. Nothing responded to it. Nothing pushed back. Now you're quiet, you arse? Astrid clenched her jaw, bearing down upon the angry whirlwind inside her and willed Air's wispy threads surrounding her to move.

Air rushed to her, fell around her like a blanket that brushed against her booted toes. It hid her; she became part of the shadows. For a moment, she marveled at the sight and grinned to herself, examining the skin of her hand as it blended into the various gray shades of the dimly lit hallway. It wasn't until she pushed away from the tapestry-covered wall that she felt the tingling numbness of her arm.

The cuff was suffocating her.

A little quicker, she crept down the woven runner of the hall, invisible to Melvin and--where was Abel? No matter. It was hardly the time to worry about that husky street girl. Melvin failed to so much as flinch when she moved around him. That was, until she emitted an audible gasp as her skull cleaved apart.

Melvin spun to the spot where Astrid stood. "Who's there?"

Astrid froze, trying to hold onto her pained breaths. Her brain throbbed. The restraint of the cuff continued to drain her, alarmingly fast. Her vision erupted into tiny black stars as if her soul already drifted among the emptiness of night.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Astrid ran, using the last bit of her control to make it to Sebastian's door.

She all but fell through it. Her breath leaked from her in a small whimper as she released her hold on Air before catching herself with her hands on Sebastian's floor. Her palms scraped against the uneven, rough stone.

"By the Scribes!"

Through the ringing in her ears, Astrid heard a series of objects tumbling to the floor. Then, Sebastian's large, alarmed eyes swam into view, a mossy pool of fresh water. She blinked. He crouched before her.

"Astrid! Are you alright? You look terribly pale. Here, let me—"

He trailed off, but his long-fingered hand wrapped around her throbbing elbow as he helped her up. All she could manage was to stare at him. She realized that his eyes were not only brown, but green, and somehow she even saw flecks of gold like stars. How had she never noticed? The floor felt like angry waves beneath her. She wanted to point it out, but Sebastian looked down at the arm he was holding and said, "Your skin is burning hot. You didn't try to turn yourself into fire again, did you?"

She coughed on a laugh and sucked down another breath. Sebastian managed to aid her into a sitting position. He placed one of his arms surreptitiously behind her, and she leaned against him, waiting for her head to clear. Surprisingly, though she wasn't quite sure why it was so shocking to her, his arm held her steady.

"Bash," she said, her cuff loosening with her tongue, "I was invisible."

His dark eyebrows raised at the use of the nickname. Bright spots of pink puffing out his cheeks, and color rushed back to her. The silky raven hue to his messy curls; the russet bronze of his hand propped on the floor between them; the pale rouge of his lips as they pinched in the concern. Over her. It overwhelmed her because he was here. With her. Not with Matthias and his hidden secrets holed up in that den of deceit of his. Sebastian was here. Where he should be.

Relief tore through her, caused her head to flood with it. A strangled gasp fell from her lips and into the space between them before her arms flung around Sebastian's neck and pulled him clumsily close.

Sebastian huffed. His breath exploded against the side of her neck, warming her chilled skin. His body felt much larger this close. Their cheeks brushed when Sebastian reached around her to pat her on the back of the shoulder. A motion that was so awkward it was endearing. His scent surrounded her, one of spices, old parchment, and—somehow—the slight saltiness of the ocean. It was rather intoxicating.

There was such a comfort in being held by him that Astrid tightened her hold.

He hesitated before sliding his palm up to the top of her spine, touching the base of her braided hair—

Astrid broke away, pushing him in the chest as quickly as the embrace had begun. She shoved the hair from her face. Only a small tingle remained in her fingertips.

"Are we truly a team?"

He blinked at her. His arms fell back to his sides from where he crouched across from her. "I'm not sure what you mean." Two spots of pink bloomed across his cheekbones.

She forced her limbs to still. "You and I. We agreed to be a team, but I wish to know if we truly are."

It was his turn to pull a weary expression. His lips retreated into a serious line while he attempted to read her. "I'm not sure," he began, hazel eyes roaming back to her face with a hesitance that sent her heart racing. "Are we?"

Astrid held her breath. He failed to meet her gaze, which only screamed into the silence that he was keeping things from her, as well. She sat on her restless hands. What was he keeping from her? Astrid glared at the question laid out between them. What could he have learned since they had last met among the Damsels' Gowns? It had barely been two days! Then again, hadn't she herself just found out more about Matthias than she had ever imagined?

Not to mention, all the betrayals she kept from Sebastian.

Astrid frowned, forcing those thoughts away. "Tell me," she demanded. "Please."

When Sebastian scrambled to his feet and turned away from her, Astrid pursued him. Her brain bobbed, a fishing boat out on stormy waters, but she forced herself to remain steady on her legs.

"You learned something," she accused. "What is it?"

Sebastian didn't respond right away. Instead, he bent to re-stack the mess of books in the corner of his room. There were about twenty of them, heavy-looking tomes and bound scrolls. They must have been the objects she heard fall upon her sporadic entrance because she knew Sebastian would never willingly leave academia anywhere where it was in danger of being stepped on.

Where had he gotten all of those? Yes, Astrid loved books, mostly romance novels and adventurous tales of female warriors and assassins. But even then she had to steal them from her mother's Keep or sneak them from the library—Oh! Lambert. Astrid turned to the window and glared out in the general direction of Matthias's barracks. Of course. It had to be Lambert. After all, wasn't that where she had first spoken to Sebastian? He had been an apprentice at the library under Master Lambert.

"Stay away from Lambert," Matthias had warned her.

She suddenly felt incredibly stupid.

Astrid pursed her lips, about to let loose her suspicions when Sebastian straightened and spun back to her, jaw taut, with a book tucked to his chest. "I—" he glanced around the empty room, dark cheeks reddening under the exertion of withholding his secrets. "I think I found something."

"You went to the Scribes without me?"

Sebastian shook his head. "No. I'm not sure we need to."

Astrid wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

He removed the book from his chest and held it out to her. Astrid's breath caught. "The Monverta," she breathed. "Where did you—How did you—?"

Except, it was not her mother's. Upon closer examination, it was obvious. It didn't hum to her; nor did it make her want to crawl out of her own skin. No, it was the one Sebastian had saved from the dragon's flames. She looked from it, to Sebastian's expression, torn somewhere between excitement and dread, and back to his hands that held it.

It wasn't until then she realized his palm bled.

"What did you do?"

He sank backwards into the hard-backed wooden chair by his desk, cheeks suddenly paling as if he had lost too much blood. "You said it feeds on blood."

"So you tried it?" She went to him and grabbed his palm to examine the wound. It was shallow, at least. "Without me? You are an absolute fool."

He frowned, but his elbows sank on his knees. He regarded her over his steepled hands. "We are a team, Astrid, but I had to know."

When his gaze met hers, it shone in the same way it would if he had just passed an exam with exceptionally annoying flying colors.

"And...it worked."

Her heart thumped so wildly that she swore the force of it pushed her against the edge of his desk. "Show me."

Their knees touched as he placed the book across his lap and flipped it open. When she looked down at the beige page, she felt foolish for holding her breath.

"There is nothing there," she pointed out.

"Yes, there is," he corrected in that annoyingly cute way of his. "Or, at least, there was. Watch."

In a motion that made an anticipatory shiver work its way up her spine, Sebastian curled his fingers into his injured fist and held it above the book's parchment. The slight dimple in his cheek winced with pain as he pressed his fingernails into the cut. For some reason, she felt like laughing; it was hard to imagine Sebastian, a man so averse to carrying a meager knife, slicing into the meat of his own palm. What had he even used anyway? A letter opener? The mad desire ebbed, however, when the first drop of his blood slapped into the book.

Plink.

The rusty red of it spread outwards from the initial dot, soaking into the pores of the page, snaking through invisible trenches carved into the parchment, seeping its way into a new pattern. It was no longer just a drop of Sebastian's blood.

But a word.

Well, two words.

Pavel Kyiva.

- - -

Well, well, well. Who is Pavel Kyiva? We'll find out soon enough! 

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