The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Forty-four

'Are you alright?'

He stormed into the room, the door opening obediently for us. I allowed him to pull me into his study, rolling my eyes as the sorcerers in the corridor looked at us suspiciously. He ordered the door to shut with a swift flick of his hand and it slammed behind me, evidence of his anger that hadn't yet dissipated.

'I felt your fear,' he snapped, running a hand through his black hair. His smooth forehead was creased with worry and his silver eyes were blazing.

'Yes, I was pushed off a cliff. Kledra Cliffs, actually,' I remembered as I moved to his desk, seating myself there while he watched me intently.

'I asked you not to go,' he grumbled, placing his hands on the desk, leaning towards me and searching me, no doubt, for injury.

'No, you didn't,' I rested my chin on my fist as I leaned forward to meet him. 'You merely beckoned me to come with you instead of Varellna, who asked me nicely if I wished to train. You have not trained me at all.'

'I've sent you books,' he answered, clearly astonished by my forwardness.

'Yes. All of them were boring and taught me nothing.' I flicked my eyebrow up in challenge. Waincroft gulped.

'You could have died at Kledra,' he murmured, both of us still squaring up to each other, each possessively resting on the desk. I noticed the whites of his knuckles.

'But, I didn't,' I said softly.

'No,' his smoky eyes swirled with fury, 'But you could have.'

'Relax, Waincroft,' his name stuck to my tongue, 'I was fine. Varellna was there, I used my magic successfully, and you have nothing to worry about.'

He said nothing, but continued to stare at me. I met his gaze confidently, trying not to be hypnotised by the heat in his pewter eyes. Then I saw her, sat on that shelf.

'I think you know why I agreed to come here,' I began, smiling as demurely as I could.

'I don't think so, Valla,' he purred charmingly in answer.

'Why not?' I asked, pouting and lowering my lashes, my hands moving to my lap modestly. He merely smirked.

A small tap on the windowpane broke his concentration. He moved to open it, but I urged the wind to push against it. It flung open violently before he could grasp the latch. I saw his small, surprised smile from where I sat.

The black crow hopped in and fluttered to the desk, squawking loudly. The letter was fastened to its collar, and Waincroft wasted no time in unravelling it.

'The ribbon,' I pointed out to him, 'It's blue. Royal blue to be precise.'

'How very observant of you,' he replied sardonically, tearing the seal of the letter and absorbing its contents seriously. 'Damn,' he seethed under his breath, before throwing the parchment into the fireplace. The bird shook itself of the moist weather, the bell on its collar gaining my attention once more.