Cairn
AS SOON AS LYRA DISAPPEARS back into the castle courtyard, I storm inside and immediately relieve myself, stroking my hard cock until I release all the pressure that built up inside me. Only then can I stop seeing Lyra’s flushed cheeks and feeling her mouth on mine, her weight atop my lap and the heat between her legs. Only then can I eventryto think clearly again.
For an hour, all I do is clean, scrubbing tables that are already spotless and sweeping floors just to sweep them again. I look toward the little bed where the red fox spent so much time, and a wave of melancholy floods me when I realize he’s no longer here. It’s better this way, better that he healed and has gone back home, but I’m going to miss him.
And now I don’t have anyone to talk to about everything whirling through my head.
Jerking off may have released my pent-up sexual frustration, but now my mind is swimming and swirling—not justwith Lyra and how wrong and dangerous these feelings are, but with everything Milo said to me this afternoon after he convinced me to sit down and have a drink with him at Boar and Badger.
He attempted small talk for a while, going on about the weather and what not, but I’ve never been particularly good at chitchat, and he gave up as soon as our frothy pumpkin ales arrived. At first, I thought it was a good thing. Until the next words came out of his mouth.
So, have you filled out your application to the conservatory yet?
My shoulders tense up as his voice echoes through my mind.
You haven’t?he said when I told him no.Why not? It’s a perfect fit!
I told him the truth: I don’t have the qualifications to work in such a place, have only ever been a groundskeeper at Coven Crest. He waved me off, acting like it was a nonissue, encouraging me to fill out the application before they find and hire someone else.
Just to get him to stop badgering me, I told him I would apply. He was too easily convinced.
I toss the rag I was using to wipe down the kitchen table into the sink. Then, as if my hooves have a mind of their own, they carry me into the sitting room, where I grab the envelope with Columbine Conservatory’s crest stamped on the front. Then I return to the kitchen and take a seat at the perfectly clean table.
And I stare at the envelope. Then stare a little longer.
The cupcake platter Lyra brought for me still sits in thecenter of the table, the metal gleaming a bit in the low light cast from my many candles and the fire in the hearth. Lifting the lid off the platter, I hurriedly snatch up the last cupcake and bite into it—it’s a chocolate-vanilla swirl, and the flavors make my taste buds dance.
Just the distraction I need.
With the sugar further muddling my already-messy brain, I finally force myself to pull Milo’s letter—and the still-blank application—from the envelope. The pieces of parchment sit there on the table, so small and insignificant and yet potentially holding a different future for me, one I’ve scarcely allowed myself to imagine.
Working with a horticulturalist, helping grow food for the people who need it, burying my hands in the dirt and never having to clean up after students again.
Thinking about it makes something go both warm and tight inside my chest. And it makes me think of Lyra, the kiss, the fire that burns in her eyes.
What would she do?I wonder. Then I laugh to myself, because I know what she’d do.
She’d fill out the application, probably mark it in blood, and then would march it straight to the conservatory and demand someone read over it at that very instant.
And I realize how much I admire her fire, her fearlessness.
Maybe I can try to learn from her, take a page from the book of Lyra.
Maybe I can be brave.
After wiping the last few remaining crumbs from my lips—I inhaled that cupcake in abouttwenty-five seconds flat—I retrieve my quill and inkwell, trying to ignore the resistance mounting inside me.
A voice tells me,You’re not good enough. They’ll never hire you. Be grateful for what you have instead of trying to reach for more.
That voice has always kept me looking down, focusing on the dirt beneath my hooves rather than the stars stretching across the never-ending sky. And I love the dirt. Of course I do. But maybe... maybe it’s time to tip my head back and look at the stars. And it might be a little red-haired witch who’s giving me the confidence to do just that.
Chapter 18
Lyra
IT’S BEEN A GRUELING WEEK. Midterms are here, and everyone drags from one class to the next, bags beneath their eyes from staying up late studying, hair in messy buns and robes slightly rumpled.
And it’s time for my Elemental Magic 201 midterm—the one I’ve been most dreading. The book portion of the midterm wasn’t a problem; it’s the practical exam I’m worried about. Each student has to demonstrate to Professor Stone their proficiency in air, water, earth, and fire magic, and I’m nearly sick to my stomach as I wait for my turn, leg bouncing erratically beneath my desk.
