The immortal's queen

Chapter 7: Archive Duty

The lower archive wing smelled like dust and old paper that had given up on life.

I stood in front of the heavy door, duster in one hand, resentment in the other. Five evenings. That was the sentence. Five evenings of manual labor because my mouth had decided to betray me in public.

High school couldn't break me. The Rusty Spoon on a Friday night couldn't break me. But sure. Let's see if forgotten books and lung damage will.

I pushed the door open.

The room was larger than I expected. Tall shelves stretched into shadow, packed with books that looked older than half the academy. A single high window let in a thin slice of light. Dust floated through it like it owned the place.

In the center stood a cart overloaded with books.

Of course it did.

A woman stepped out from between the shelves. Silver-streaked hair. Sharp eyes. Apron already dusted with evidence of real work.

"You're the new one," she said. Not unkind. Not warm either. "Elara. I manage the archives."

"Celine," I replied. "Here to repay society with unpaid labor."

Her mouth twitched. "Start with the cart. Sort by author, then title. Dust as you go. Don't climb the higher shelves."

She handed me a cloth and disappeared back into the rows before I could ask anything else.

I stared at the pile of books.

Organize. Dust. Suffer. Character development through allergies. Perfect.

I picked up the first book. The cover cracked. A cloud of dust punched me straight in the face.

I sneezed hard enough to bend forward.

Wonderful. My power invades minds and my punishment invades sinuses. This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm just allergic to consequences.

I got to work.

For a while, the only sounds were the soft slide of books and my own breathing. My thoughts drifted whether I wanted them to or not — back to the office, back to Theo's freezing stare, back to the way he had looked at me like a problem that needed containing.

He doesn't hate me. That would require emotional effort. I'm just an inconvenience with a pulse. A very annoying pulse that keeps breathing his air.

I was mid-sort when the air changed.

No footsteps. Just presence.

I turned.

Theo stood near the doorway.

Black coat. Controlled posture. Expression carved out of ice. He didn't look like he had come to supervise. He looked like he had stepped into the room, found it occupied, and decided the occupancy was unfortunate.

My spine straightened on instinct.

"Overseer," I said, the word dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes moved from the half-organized cart to my face. There was no curiosity in them. No amusement. Just cold assessment.

"You're here," he said.

Observant as ever. Truly the sharpest tool in the shed. It's a miracle he manages to dress himself in the morning.

"That was the instruction," I replied.

He walked further in, gaze sweeping the shelves with brief disinterest before returning to me.

"Elara reports that you arrived on time."

"I considered rebellion," I said. "Then I remembered the threats."

Something in his expression sharpened.

"Good," he said. "Remembering is useful."

He stopped a few feet away. Close enough that the space felt smaller. Not intimate. Claimed.

"Your drills with Darian continue tomorrow," he said. "Earlier."

"He mentioned. Sir."

"Then do not be late."

The words were flat. Final. Not advice. Expectation.

I held the duster a little too tightly. "Is this a routine inspection, or did I already fail something else?"

Because I have a list, and I'm happy to add to it. It's practically a hobby at this point.

Theo's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Do not flatter yourself," he said. "I do not monitor every disciplinary assignment. I was informed the archives were occupied. I came to confirm the problem was contained."

Contained. Yes. That's me. A walking containment issue. A natural disaster in human form. The problem that refused to stay in its box.

"I'm organizing books," I said, holding up the duster like it was a weapon. "Very dangerous work."

"I am not yet impressed."

The reply was immediate. Clean. Almost bored.

Wow. Stunning. Brilliant comeback. I'll put that on my wall. "I am not yet impressed." Right next to my collection of dignity that I don't have.

Silence stretched between us. He studied me for another second, long enough to make my skin prickle, then stepped back.

"Keep your power suppressed while you work," he said. "If I hear that you have spoken another private thought that does not belong to you, the terms of your punishment will change."

My throat tightened. "Understood."

Understood. Yes. I understand that you enjoy watching me suffer. I understand that you have nothing better to do than terrorize new students. I understand that you're terrifying and I hate you and also why can't I stop looking at you—

He turned toward the door.

Then paused.

"Celine."

I hated how quickly my attention snapped to him.

Theo looked over his shoulder, eyes cold and precise.

"Do not give me a reason to escalate."

He left without waiting for a response. The door shut softly behind him.

I stood there with a book in one hand and the duster in the other, pulse still too fast.

No compliments. No concern. Just a warning wrapped in ice.

Maybe it wasn't just about containment. Maybe he wanted to see if I was still standing. Maybe he wanted to remind me that I'm not the predator here. I'm the prey. The very annoying prey that keeps popping up in his territory.

I let out a slow breath and turned back to the cart.

Right. Sort. Dust. Survive.

And maybe stop attracting the attention of a man who looks at people like they're temporary inconveniences. Temporary inconveniences that he apparently checks on personally.

I reached for the next book.

My hands were not entirely steady.

But I'm still standing. Still breathing. Still annoying the immortal. So that's a win. Technically. If you squint. Hard.