Page 44 of Tether
I spin around, coming face to face with the man; the audacity that he expels sets fire to my already anxious nerves.
“Look, I have something I need to do, so either help me or scurry off to the gardens like a good little pup, okay?” I may be a little harsh, but in my defence, my day has been a complete shitshow. He tilts his head to the side, looking at me like I have just spoken to him in another language.
“Someone seems to get cranky when they’re tired.” He grins from ear to ear.
My shoulders drop, and it takes everything in me not to press my fingers to my forehead and show him any sense of defeat.
Spinning on my heel, I ignore his remark and approach theoffice. Fishing two bobby pins out of my pocket, I pry them open with my teeth, forming a narrow V and crouch down in front of the door. Loxen stands in front of me, and when I peer up to meet his gaze, the suggestive position in which we stand leaves little to the imagination, and I can almost see the filthy images he has running through his mind.His little crow on her knees.That damn smirk reappears, and he quirks a brow, his silence saying more than necessary. My eyes narrow and I give him my best scowl, shaking my head, and ridding myself of the sinful thoughts that have corrupted my mind.
Inserting the bobby pins, I steady my hands and twist the metal, letting the ridges of one of the pins fall into place. I listen for a click as I maneuver my fingers to push the metal in different directions. The endeavour feels hopeless, and I clearly have no idea what I’m doing or how to pick a lock. A light chuckle sounds beside me, fueling my frustration further.
“You know, if you’re just going to stand there and look pretty, you could always go find something else to do.” I tinker with the lock, letting my annoyance fuel my dedication.
“So, you think I look pretty?” His cockiness tells me I’ve just boosted his ego by about three notches. My eyes roll so hard I could almost see the back of my skull. I hear the click and smile to myself at my small victory.
Turning the doorknob, I give it a little push, and it slowly swings open. The hinges groan in protest of my intrusion, and suddenly, I’m feeling anxious about being in here at all. Maybe this is a mistake.
“Are you going to go in, or do you plan on staring at the open door for the remainder of the night?” He never fails to speak at the most inopportune moments. Sticking out my tongue before entering the room, Loxen’s grin only grows as he follows me inside.
Illuminating the lantern on the small entrance table, I hold it up high, casting light amongst the shadows of the dusty office.I’m utterly shocked at the disorganization and disarray that lies before me. Papers, letters, documents and small trinkets are layered on my grandfather’s desk, rendering it hard to find a single place to set something down, let alone find what I’m searching for. I sift through stacks of papers and folders, looking for anything that bears the Hollow Iris crest, but come up short. Loxen moseys around the room, touching everything in sight. He spins a globe covered in a thin layer of dust as he passes by, distracting me from what I’m looking for, which only adds to my agitation.
I sink into my grandfather’s office chair, resting my head in a huff. My eyes wander to the large painting that looms overhead on the back wall. It’s a stunning piece, but intimidating to the eye with its deep, muted colours and eerie, intricate detailing. A wilting black iris flower, sitting in a silver chalice filled with a rich red wine. A serpent wraps around the chalice stem, its mouth wide and poisonous fangs bared. A single drop of its venom flows into the red wine. It’s beautiful, yet daunting to look at. I hear a scuffle at the far end of the room and swing the lantern in its direction. Loxen is rummaging through a large bookshelf I hadn’t paid any mind to.
“You know, if you tell me what you are looking for, I might just be able to be of some assistance.” Loxen stares at me in wait.
“I’m perfectly capable of managing on my own.” I give him an innocent smile. Even if I wanted to tell him, which I don’t, I know damn well that I can’t.
His eyes narrow, and he purses his lips into a tight line. Loxen saunters to the door and pauses to get his last jab in before leaving me for the night.
“Suit yourself, stubborn girl.”
I spend hours upon hours sorting through documents, searching for the folder Reed has requested. It feels like I’ve been sent on a fool’s errand with no end in sight. I’m just about to call it a night when something pulls me toward the bookcase where Loxen stood. Novels old and new line the shelves, giving me insight into who my grandfather was and what he enjoyed. Picking up several pieces of literature, I skim through the pages and set them back down again.
A sudden thump startles me, sending my heart into a beating frenzy. A book has fallen over on the shelf next to me, untouched, unprovoked and completely unexplainable. I take small steps toward it, my curiosity piqued, and pick up the book bound in deep purple leather. I gasp at my discovery. Sliding my thumb over the Hollow Iris Crest, I thank God, or whoever is listening, for guiding me to this forbidden treasure.
I flip to the first page and see the handwritten inscription.
Property of Ambrose Gravenhurst - The Hollow Iris Path.
This may not be the folder Reed had asked for, but I’m willing to bet this is even better.
TWENTY-EIGHT
VERENA GRAVENHURST
My grandfather’s journal weighs heavy in my palm as I make my way through the doors of the academy. Excitement buzzes through me while I take hurried steps, swerving through the busy hallway towards my lecture, earning a few questioning glances from students passing by. My raven hair sits in a lopsided, messy bun atop my head, and my attire is equally as dishevelled, with one half of my blouse tucked into my skirt.
I woke up late, having stayed up long into the night searching for the folder. What was meant to be a quick task ended up taking hours, and when my head finally found my pillow, a pair of annoyingly beautiful cobalt eyes still managed to haunt me, prolonging the sleep I so desperately needed. It was an effort to get out of bed this morning, even after sleeping past multiple alarms. Honestly, I would have decided not to attend my lecture today at all, had I not found his journal last night. I’m eager to show it to Reed. Though it isn’t the folder he originally asked for, I’m hoping it will count as some sort of redemption.
Winded, I swing the door to the lecture hall open. My eyes flicker over the class, and heat rises into my cheeks when Inotice I’m a lot later than I thought, and the class has settled, no longer bustling with its usual pre-lecture chatter. The professorholds his marker just above the whiteboard as if I’d just disrupted his train of thought, and scowls at me. “Sorry,” I mouth, making my way up the stairs and finding the first empty seat to slide into. Setting my bag at my feet, I pull my notebook free. My gaze drifts over the rows of students ahead of me, looking for a familiar head of dirty-blonde hair. My brows pinch together when I don’t spot him. He usually tells me when he’ll be missing a lecture, but we haven’t exactly spoken since our argument. I tell myself it’s nothing, but the unease lingers as I uncap my pen.
Suddenly, someone drops into the seat beside me. I flinch, glancing over. His brown hair is unruly, and a light gray hoodie hangs askew off one shoulder. He looks young, and I don’t recognize him. His posture is rigid, and his eyes are wild, scanning the room.
“Gravenhurst?” he murmurs.
I hesitate, then nod. “Um, yes?” He slides a crumpled piece of paper across my desk.
“You’re late.” Before I can respond, he jumps from his seat and hurries towards the door, descending the steps two at a time. My heart rate picks up, and I wait a long moment for the professor to resume scribbling on the board before I uncrumple the note beneath my desk.
