Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 53

The attic door clicked softly behind us, sealing out the noise of the halls and the world beyond. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the faint scent of cedar and lavender, hers. She dropped her bag onto the floor and let out a long, shaky sigh, shoulders sinking as if the weight of the entire academy had been pressing there. Above us, the enchanted skylight shimmered with the night sky, casting the whole room in rippling silver-blue light. Stars pulsed like they were alive, the moon glowing full and proud. She looked like a painting, exhausted and messy and still, somehow, radiant. My dragon hummed beneath my skin, smug and possessive.

“Sit,” I said quietly, voice lower than I meant it to be. “I’ll make something to eat.”

She didn’t argue, which told me more than anything else how tired she was. She just sighed again, padded barefoot across the soft rug,

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12:48 Tue, Dec 30

Mine To Protect. Mine To Love.

73

and dropped onto one of the plush green sofas. A flick of her fingers and the small crystal-screen TV came to life, light spilling over her face as she tucked her knees to her chest.

I turned toward the kitchen, rolling my shoulders and scanning the space. It wasn’t what I’d expected from a student dorm, it was better, Everything gleamed softly in the moonlight: dark wood, copper handles, small enchanted lights that glowed when I brushed my fingers under the cupboards. The fridge opened with a soft hum, and I took stock-eggs, butter, bread, a few containers of leftover breakfast food, and fruit. Enough to make something warm. I hadn’t cooked in a while, not since before the Academy. Dragons had an appetite that bordered on gluttonous, and the last time I’d worked a pan, it had been in my family’s estate kitchen. Here, though, there was something oddly grounding about it. Using my hands. Doing something simple and good. I pulled a pan down, let the flame hum to life under my palm. The smell of sizzling butter filled the air, sharp and sweet, and I found myself grinning like an idiot. My dragon rumbled in my chest, a lazy, pleased sound. She’s hungry, he murmured through me.

“I know,” I muttered back quietly, almost under my breath.

A few minutes later, the pan hissed and crackled. I glanced over my shoulder. She was still watching the TV, but her head had slumped to one side, cheek resting against the couch cushion. The flickering light danced across her face. The faint shadows under her eyes made her look younger, more human, more real.

I turned back to the pan and smiled to myself. “You’d think she’d fight me on this,” I said softly.

She’s learning, my dragon said, a deep chuckle threading through my chest. So are you.

When the food was ready, I plated it up and brought it to her: eggs, toasted bread, and some makeshift fried rice I’d thrown together with the leftovers. She stirred just as I knelt beside the couch and placed the dish on the low table.

“Smells good,” she mumbled, blinking her eyes open.

I chuckled, brushing a stray hair from her forehead before I realised I’d done it. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

The first bite made her groan, a quiet, involuntary sound that sent a bolt of heat straight through my chest.

“Good?” I asked, half-teasing.

“Too good,” she said around another mouthful.

I chuckled, leaning back against the couch beside her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

We ate in silence for a while. The TV flickered, the moonlight shimmered, and I just felt… full. Whole. Happy.

When she finished, setting the plate aside and curling back into the cushions with a sleepy hum, I looked at her again, the girl who wasn’t supposed to have anyone, the girl the world kept underestimating, and thought, she’s mine.

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12:48 Tue, Dec 30

Thornhill Academy.

I Need To Feed…And It’s Not Food.

Allison

A

73

The couch had swallowed me whole, soft and warm against my sore body. The TV flickered in front of me, but my eyes barely followed the movement; the weight of exhaustion pressed down harder than the cushions ever could. Every nerve ached. My limbs felt like lead. And beneath it all, a deep, gnawing hollowness, my magic reserves flickering like the last stub of a candle.

It would be rude to ask him to leave, wouldn’t it? To send him away just so I could…feed. Just so I could siphon enough power to stop my body from feeling like it was falling apart. But I needed it. The shift had drained me to the bone, my body still screaming for more energy to finish mending itself. And there was a certain warlock down the hall who deserved a few more nightmares tonight. The thought made a faint, dark smile twitch at the corners of my lips. I shifted my gaze to Evander. He was sitting opposite me, plate long cleared, shoulders relaxed in a way that still radiated strength. When his eyes met mine, he smiled, warm, steady, like a fire that never went out. My chest squeezed. Well, I guessed if he were going to run, he would’ve done it already.

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