Page 69 of Group Studies
Ashe smiled at me when my circle came to an end. “Go up the stairs.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet, turning to the tight black spiral staircase leading to the loft.
“Not more stairs,” I whined, more to annoy Ashe than anything else.
Ashe groaned.
My calves protested, but I climbed the steep staircase, anyway. Like Professor Garnet’s rooms, the low roof slanted down almost to the floor on either side. Ashe’s head would brush the ceiling even at its highest point. Large skylights let in light through the roof along with one round window above the bed. I almost ran to my turtle tucked between the brown pillows on a low bed which could easily sleep four.
“Why’s he deflated?” I asked, turning him over. I sucked in a breath when I found a stitched-up deep tear down his middle.
“Roisin fixed it as best she could. They fucking ripped it apart looking for your scales,” Ashe said. “Where are your scales?”
I pressed my turtle into my stomach and scanned the room for cameras.
“No cameras,” Ashe said, noticing my gaze. “Just like your dorm room. Everything you say here stays here.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Unless you report it to the MA.”
I expected Ashe to argue with me. Instead, he nodded.
My heart fell. “You’ll still write up reports on me?”
“Kitten, it’s my job. He joined me on the bed, one of his knees grazing mine.
“You told them I transferred into you?” I asked, looking at him through my lashes.
Ashe stiffened. “I did not. It would’ve doomed both of us. I fucking snuck into the medical wing like a criminal and recharged their spells. I’d no idea the Institute's resources were so depleted.”
“Won’t they know something’s off?” I asked.
Ashe grunted. “If Nurse Norah reports it, I’ll be shocked. That woman has made the medical wing her personal path to redemption. I don’t think she gives a fuck about the MA’s rules.”
I flopped the turtle's wings. “She’s not here by choice?”
“Maybe now,” Ashe said, his face falling. “She’s incarcerated for using her healing magic to kill terminally ill patients without their families' consent. Even if they let her out, she’ll never work in the medical field again, magical or not. I didn’t take the time to memorize her details.”
Like he memorized mine. Suddenly uncomfortable with him on the bed, I placed my turtle back on the pillow and shuffled to the wardrobe opposite the spiral staircase. I opened the double doors wide. Along the left hung a series of lady’s uniforms, complete with white ties; obviously for me. I frowned. On the right were a hodgepodge of MA uniforms and men’s student uniforms along with a few pieces of dark blue casual wear. Ashe’s side of the space, I guess.
“I can still request reassignment,” his voice lacked its usually confidence.
I didn’t turn. My fingers caught the hem of one of his MA uniforms and I rubbed the rough texture. This was up to me, and only me. “I’d rather it be you than a stranger.”
Ashe grunted. “Romantic fucking words there, Kitten.”
I spied a piece of gray fabric amongst my plethora of uniforms—Beryl’s hoodie. I smiled.
Instead of pulling out the garment, I closed the doors to the wardrobe. “Beryl told me to hear you out.”
I turned, reaching for my non-existent braid. Ashe’s t-shirt clad chest took up my view, forcing me to take a step back. I hit the wardrobe with a soft thud. Ashe’s gray gaze burned into me.
“I’m so conflicted,” I admitted. “I don’t know what to do about it. You made me fall for you. You manipulated me…”
“Stop,” Ashe cut me off. “I know it seems that way, but this wasn’t the fucking plan. I have a life outside of here and am under no obligation to stay. I’d be fucking full of shit if I said Officer Keres would be OK with me leaving. He’s over the moon we’re together. But I’m not.”
My heart fell, a life outside of here. One of the many stories he told me about his brother surfaced.
“You have a little boy,” I said, remembering the pictures he showed me of the kid from a martial arts competition. “A son.”