Book 1 Chapter 18
996 Words
Ari made it back to the castle with Bram trailing behind her like a storm cloud she refused to acknowledge. She didn’t slow down. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t give him a single opening. She went straight to the library. Bram followed. Of course he did. She dropped her bag on the table, opened her notebook, and pretended she didn’t feel him standing in the doorway like a physical weight.
“Ari,” he said quietly.
She didn’t look up. “If this isn’t about my thesis, don’t bother.” Bram froze. Ari kept writing, even though her pen wasn’t touching the page anymore.
“Ari,” he tried again, stepping closer. “We need to talk.”
“No,” she said, flipping a page she hadn’t read. “You need to talk. I need to work.”
He exhaled sharply. “I don’t understand why you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she said, still not looking at him. “I’m focused.”
“That’s not what it feels like.”
“Well,” she said, “feelings can be misleading.”
Bram stared at her, jaw tight. “Ari, please.” She finally looked up, but her eyes were cold, guarded, nothing like the warm, curious girl he’d grown used to. “If you’re not here to help me with my research,” she said, voice clipped, “then I don’t have time for this.”
Bram took a step back as she’d struck him. Ari immediately looked away, guilt flickering in her chest, but she shoved it down. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. Not when she was already confused and hurt and trying desperately not to care. Bram swallowed hard. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll… let you work.”
He turned and walked out of the library, the door closing softly behind him. Ari’s shoulders sagged the moment he was gone. She pressed her palms to her eyes. “Why is this so complicated?” But she didn’t chase him. She didn’t call him back.
She forced herself to focus on her notes, even though the words blurred and her chest ached.
Bram didn’t go far. He stopped in the hallway, leaning against the stone wall, staring at nothing. His chest felt tight, his thoughts tangled. He’d tried. He’d gone to her calmly. He’d asked to talk. And she’d shut him out completely. He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath his skin. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to reach her. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong, not fully, not in a way he could explain. All he knew was that Ari was slipping away from him. And he had no idea how to stop it.
Bram stayed in the hallway long after Ari shut him out. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He just stared at the stone floor like it might offer answers he didn’t have. He’d faced monsters. He’d faced war. He’d faced losing Eilidh. But nothing, nothing had prepared him for the way Ari Thorne could cut him down with a single sentence. Footsteps approached. Torin. Of course. The man leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, studying Bram with the kind of expression that said he’d been watching for a while.
“You look like someone kicked your favorite puppy,” Torin said.
Bram didn’t respond. Torin sighed. “Alright. What happened now?”
Bram scrubbed a hand over his face. “She told me not to bother her unless it was about her thesis.”
Torin winced. “Ouch, I need some cream for that burn.”
“She won’t look at me,” Bram muttered. “Won’t talk to me. Won’t even let me explain.”
Torin tilted his head. “Explain what?”
Bram hesitated. Torin’s eyes narrowed. “Bram.”
Bram exhaled. “Everything.”
Torin blinked. “Everything everything?”
“Aye.”
Torin pushed off the wall. “Good. You should.”
Bram frowned. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I think,” Torin said, stepping closer, “that the girl thinks you have a girlfriend. Or an ex. Or a ghost of a tragic love story haunting your every breath. And until you tell her the truth, she’s going to keep running.”
Bram’s chest tightened. “She won’t listen.”
“Not right now,” Torin agreed. “She’s hurt. Confused. And you know Ari, she’ll bury herself in work until she convinces herself she doesn’t care.”
Bram swallowed hard. “She said she doesn’t have time for this.”
Torin snorted. “Aye, because she’s lying to herself. And doing a piss-poor job of it.”
Bram looked away. “I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Then don’t,” Torin said. “Give her space. Let her cool down. But when you do talk to her…” He jabbed a finger at Bram’s chest. “Tell her the truth. All of it. Werebears. Eilidh. The prophecy. Everything.”
Bram stiffened. “She’ll run.”
“Maybe,” Torin said. “Or maybe she’ll finally understand why you’ve been acting like a man with his head shoved up his own arse.”
Bram groaned. “Moira said the same thing.”
“Because she’s right.”
Bram leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Torin clapped him on the shoulder. “You start by not chasing her today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Give her time. Then you talk.”
Bram nodded slowly.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “A few days.”
Torin smirked. “Good lad.” But Bram didn’t feel good. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something huge, something that could change everything, and he had no idea whether he was about to fall or fly.
- Writer
