Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 30

Time To Recharge and Murder.

Waking up felt like crawling out of mud, thick, heavy, and slow. My eyelids fought me, lashes sticking, head full of static. The first thing I registered was light, too bright and too clean, filtering through some enchantment overhead. Then the steady hum of wards. The faint sting of herbs in the air. Infirmary. I blinked hard, forcing my vision to clear. Whitewashed walls. Rows of beds. The sharp scent of antiseptic made my nose wrinkle. Yeah. Definitely the infirmary. And then I saw them. Two slumped figures on either side of my bed, both folded awkwardly into stiff wooden chairs. Kael, his head tipped back, mouth just barely parted in sleep. Even sitting still, there was something dangerous coiled under his skin, like fire banked in ash, waiting for the right gust to spark. His hands twitched occasionally, like even in sleep, he was itching for a fight. Evander was the opposite. Quiet. Still. Except for the way his fists were balled tight in his lap, as if he hadn’t let himself relax even here. His massive frame looked ridiculous crammed into that chair, but somehow it didn’t

diminish him. His presence pressed into the room like a second gravity.

For a beat, I just stared, trying to wrap my head around why the hell the two most intimidating people in this school were passed out like guard dogs at my

bedside. Then memory slammed into me. The obstacle course. The beam. The freezing water. Cage’s grin as he kicked the wood out from under me.

“Fucking Cage,” I croaked, my voice rough and cracked.

The sound startled me more than them. Both Kael and Evander stirred, their eyes snapping open at once like they’d been waiting for me to speak. Shit. I wasn’t sure if I wanted them looking at me like that. Kael stirred first, his mouth curled, slow and lazy, into that grin I was already starting to hate. “You know,” he drawled, voice scratchy with sleep, “you’re not supposed to nap in class, Rivers. Pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the pillow. “You’re an idiot.”

Across the bed, Evander’s eyes narrowed, sharp even in half–light. He cut Kael a glare so sharp it could’ve been a blade. Kael just shrugged, as if he lived for it. Evander’s attention slid back to me, though, and the heat in his expression softened. “How are you feeling?” His voice was quiet, low, like he was trying

not to rattle me.

“I’m fine,” I croaked, even though my throat burned and every muscle in my body ached like I’d been thrown down a mountain,

He didn’t look convinced. His jaw tightened, and then he moved, big frame unfolding out of the chair in one smooth motion. Before I could say another word, he was already striding across the room. A moment later, the sound of water being poured into a glass carried back, steady and purposeful. I swallowed against the dryness, suddenly more aware of the raw pull in my back and the soft thrum of magic layered in the bandages. Fine, my ass.

Kael leaned an elbow on the edge of my bed, smirking down at me like he was trying to see straight into my head. “You don’t look fine, stray.”

I rolled my eyes, but it hurt too much to keep it up for long.

Evander came back, glass in hand, the water glinting faintly with the shimmer of a healer’s purification charm. He held it out like it was a lifeline.

“I can manage,” I said quickly, reaching for it before he could try anything else. My fingers closed around the cool glass, but the tremor in my hand betrayed me. Every muscle in my arm ached, my body drained like someone had wrung me out and left me in the sun too long. I lifted it anyway, determined. The first sip was heaven, cool and sharp down my raw throat. But halfway through, my grip slipped. The glass tilted too far, spilling cold water down my chin

and into the blanket.

“Shit,” I hissed, jerking it back upright. My arm burned with the effort.

Kael chuckled low, the bastard. “Really graceful, Rivers. Want me to get you a bib?”

“Fuck off,” I snapped, glaring at him even as I swiped at my chin with the back of my hand.

Evander didn’t laugh. He reached forward, steadying the glass with one massive hand over mine, his touch warm and careful. He didn’t take it away from me, though; he just braced the weight so I wouldn’t drop it. His storm–grey eyes stayed locked on mine, patient, like he wasn’t going to push the point, but

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12:17 Mon, Dec 29

GR

Time To Recha

and Murder.

he wasn’t letting me drown myself either. I drank the rest in a few stubborn gulps, set the glass back on the table, and pulled my hand free. My pride was

bruised almost as much as my body.

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