Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 148

Chapter 148

Cassian

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The air in my classroom feels heavy today. Too many currents running beneath the surface – whispers,

shifting magic, tension I can’t name, other people’s thoughts I can’t get out of my head. I feel it the

moment I step through the door. It sits in my chest like the charge before a storm. Allison Rivers is already

here. She’s at the front with Tessa, chatting quietly, a pen tapping rhythmically against her notebook.

There’s no teasing smile today, no sharp retorts or glances that set my thoughts off course. She looks almost… composed. Cage sits two rows behind her, posture rigid, eyes shadowed. He looks like hell. The exhaustion in his face would concern me if it weren’t laced with something uglier like resentment, bitterness, a need to pick a fight. I start the lesson anyway and pretend the air isn’t thick enough to choke on. “We’re continuing with advanced alchemical infusions,” I say, writing on the board. “Pairing elemental

reagents with emotional catalysts.”

It’s routine. The sort of thing that should steady me. I draw the sigil for focus in the air, and it glows gold for a moment before fading. The students dutifully copy it, all except for the two who matter.

Cage is glaring holes into the side of Allison’s head. Allison is pretending not to notice. Tessa leans over to whisper something that makes Allison smile faintly. The simple act seems to irritate Cage even more. He slams his book open, the sound echoing far too loud in the quiet.

“Problem, Cage?” I ask evenly.

“No, sir,” he snaps, eyes flicking toward Allison like the word sir tastes sour in his mouth.

I glance at Allison. “Miss Rivers?”

She lifts her chin, voice steady. “He’s been in a mood al morning, Professor. Maybe you should give him a nap instead of a lecture.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the room and Cage’s jaw tightens. “Maybe you should mind your own

business for once.”

“Maybe you should stop making yourself everyone else’s business.”

“That’s enough,” I say, tone sharp enough to slice through the noise. But neither of them looks away. Cage leans forward, his voice dropping to something colder. You think you’re special because of them? Because they pretend you are? You’re not.”

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Chapter 148

The bond between them flares, I can feel it, the same way I feel the hum of a storm gathering. Allison’s fingers curl around her quill. “You’d know all about pretending, wouldn’t you?”

Cage opens his mouth again, voice rising with that sharp, cruel edge he’s been perfecting all his life, and that’s when it happens. For the briefest heartbeat, something flickers at the edge of my vision, blue, faint as candlelight. I glance down and see it glinting along Allison’s fingers where her hand grips the desk. Not ink, not light, but marks, ancient, sigils that you don’t mistake if you’ve seen them before. My stomach drops. Rhaziel marked her, and clearly being a siphon means she’s adapted part of his form. The markings trace the delicate bones of her hand like living veins, pulsing once before sinking back into her skin. No one else seems to notice yet. Cage is still speaking, words sharp and poisonous, but I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. If anyone else looks-if anyone else sees-I move before the thought’s finished. My hand darts to the cauldron at the front bench, and I dump in all the wrong ingredients. BOOM. The cauldron erupts in a blinding flash of harmless light, the room filling instantly with thick white smoke. Students shriek and cough as I wave a dispersal charm, pretending it was an accident. “Out,” I bark, voice steady, controlled. “Everyone outside until the air clears.”

They scramble for the door, half laughing, half complaining. In the chaos, I risk a glance back at her. She’s frozen where she sits, eyes wide. The faintest trace of blue still lingers at her fingertips. When she meets my gaze, I nod once, down, toward her hand. Her breath catches as she looks, realises, and draws a long, steady inhale. The glow fades, vanishing as if it were never there. The door slams behind the last student, and the room falls into quiet again, smoke curling lazily between us.

I step closer. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.” She folds her arms over her chest, jaw tight, saying nothing. “Allison,” I warn.

Her silence is answer enough. I reach for her mind, just a brush, and she doesn’t stop me. The barrier that usually hums between us softens. Then I see her memory: standing in the middle of her small kitchen, Rhaziel’s power curling through the air. She’s trembling but unafraid, her hair lifting in the current as the sigils etch themselves across her skin. He marked her as his queen, his equal… When the vision fades, 1 stumble back, breath unsteady. “Gods, Allison,” I whisper. “Do you have any idea what that means? Those markings, they’re permanent. If the council sees them, they won’t hesitate to take you away.”

Her eyes flash, wet and furious. “You think I don’t know that? Gosh, Cassian, my life has been full of things I can’t control. But this-these-” She lifts her hands and lets the markings flare to life again, bright and beautiful and wrong in every way, “These at least say that someone loves me.” The words slice through the room. She pulls at her collar, revealing the twin marks her throat, the ones I’ve seen before but never like this, Kael’s and Evander’s bites. “These show that a least these mates are willing to stay. Thick or

thin. That they chose me, and I’m proud of them.” Heroice cracks on the last word. Tears glitter on her lashes, catching the faint blue light still rippling across her skin. “I’m proud,” she whispers, softer now,

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Chapter 148

“and I am terrified all at once. Terrified they’ll lose half their soul when something happens to me.” The

anger drains from her tone, leaving only raw honesty.

I swallow hard, unable to look away. She stands there in front of me, bare and human, every heartbeat of

her magic thrumming against the air. For all the power branded into her skin, she’s still just a girl trying to

hold too many worlds together.

I take a step closer, careful, my voice low. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Her laugh is small and broken. “You can’t promise that.

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