Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 40

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The minutes ticked by, slow and deliberate, marked only by the scratch of quills and the occasional cough from across the room. Hill never looked up, though I could feel him tracking every move from behind that unreadable mask of his. Beside me, Cage shifted. The scrape of his chair legs grated louder than it needed to. He drummed his fingers on the desk, then snapped his book closed, the sound sharp enough to turn heads.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. “I’m trying to do you a favour.”

I tilted my chin, still staring at the wall, every nerve screaming at me not to give him what he wanted.

“Rivers,” he hissed, voice low, hot. “Do you think I like this? Sitting here, spoon-feeding you basics like you’re some clueless first-year?

You think I asked for this gig?”

My silence was a blade.

His laugh came out jagged, frustrated. “Gods, you’re infuriating.”

I heard his quill snap in half. Bits of wood clattered against the desk. A faint hum of power rippled off him, sharp and restless. He was losing patience, and he hated that I wasn’t. I kept my gaze forward, nails digging crescent moons into my palms under the desk.

Finally, he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear, voice soft but lethal. “Keep this up, stray. But when you fall flat on your face,

don’t you dare look at me to pick you up.”

I sat there, still and silent, savouring every ounce of his frustration.

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12:46 Tue, Dec 30

Thornhill Academy.

Enchantments.

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For a while, it was almost a game. Me ignoring him. Him seething beside me, radiating frustration like heat off a forge. His chair creaked as he shifted again and again, restless, until finally, he snapped. My book slammed open, his hand pinning the page flat. His finger jabbed down hard enough to wrinkle the paper.

“Okay,” he bit out, his voice a growl. “Hate me, whatever, like I could really care. But if I don’t do what Scorched told me to, then I risk being expelled. And if I get sent home, as a fucking failure to my father-” He cut himself off, teeth clicking shut. The words hung there, half-born, sharp as broken glass.

And the memory of what I’d glimpsed in his mind, the cruelty, the bruises, the constant shadow of a father who broke more than he built, tightened something in my chest. Against my will, against my better judgment, sympathy flickered. It pissed me off that it did. I rolled my eyes, plucked the book from under his hand, and started reading. Still not talking to him and not giving him the satisfaction.

But I took notes. Sloppy ones at first, then cleaner as the words stuck. Every so often, he leaned over, tapping the page with his quill,

correcting my mess. He didn’t gloat when I got it wrong, didn’t snicker or sneer. Just… pointed it out. And I let him-silent cooperation,

brittle as glass but holding. By the time Hill dismissed us, my hand ached from scribbling. I snapped the book shut, ready to bolt.

“After classes,” Cage said, his voice low but firm, like it was already decided. “We’ll catch up on everything else you suck at.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder with a groan. “Great,” I muttered under my breath, though not loud enough for him to hear.

By the time I escaped the classroom, my head was pounding. I spotted Tessa waiting for me just outside, bouncing on her heels like she

hadn’t just been through an entire lecture.

“Hey!” she chirped, looping her arm through mine. “What’s next? Please tell me it’s not another one of Hill’s classes, because you look

like you’re about to murder someone.”

“Not yet,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “We’ve got Enchantments.”

Her eyes lit up like I’d just handed her a crown. “Yes! Finally, something fun. Come on, I heard this professor actually lets us try stuff.”

She tugged me down the hall, ignoring my slower pace until I gave up and let her drag me. The Enchantments room was brighter than most classrooms, glass orbs hanging from the ceiling like suspended stars. Each desk had its own little workbench with tools neatly arranged-tiny hammers, chisels, quills etched with runes, even jars of glowing ink. The air buzzed with magic, faint sparks dancing between the orbs as if the room itself couldn’t sit still.

Tessa all but collapsed into a seat, grinning at me. “Okay, this is already my favourite.”

I slid in beside her, scanning the room warily. Too much light. Too many eyes. At least no Cage, no Kael, no Evander. Just me, Tess, and a room full of people who didn’t even know my name yet.

“Today,” the professor said as he strode to the front, robes dusted with what looked suspiciously like silver shavings, “you’ll be crafting your first basic charm.” He clapped his hands, and the orbs above brightened. “Nothing too explosive, I promise.”

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