Riven slipped away from the circle of laughing junior students with quiet precision, every step deliberate. He cut through the hum of the laboratory like a shadow parting light, until he stopped a measured distance from Aysel and Zephyr.
His gaze was steady—civil, but laced with something unreadable—as he inclined his head in greeting.
"I was wondering when I'd cross paths with you."
Aysel blinked, caught off guard.
"You… knew I'd be here?" she asked, the words tumbling out before she could temper them. There was a thin thread of suspicion in her tone she hadn't meant to reveal.
The corners of Riven's mouth curved into that serene, impenetrable smile of his—a smile that never quite touched his eyes.
"Well, yes. I heard today's session was with the juniors, so it wasn't difficult to predict."
Something in his voice loosened the tension in her shoulders before she realized it.
Still… why did I think he meant something more? That he… somehow knew? Impossible.
She shook her head with a small, self-conscious laugh.
"Oh—right. I'd forgotten."
Beside her, Zephyr had been silent, arms crossed loosely, his gaze fixed on Riven with cool scrutiny. One eyebrow arched, the faintest sign of amusement—or challenge.
Riven caught it, but didn't flinch.
"You seem like you have a question for me," he said mildly, voice like smooth glass. "Am I mistaken?"
Aysel parted her lips to answer, but Zephyr's voice cut in—low, sharp-edged.
"You seem uncomfortably certain of why we're here, Solare."
The sudden bite in his tone made her flinch.
"Zephyr—don't—"
She started to intervene, but Riven lifted a hand, the movement unhurried, almost soothing. His gaze flicked to her, a faint reassurance in his expression.
"Now, now, Aelion," Riven said evenly. "You'll frighten the lady. Best not to accuse without proof."
The way he lingered on the word was a subtle blade in the air.
Zephyr's mouth curved in a mirthless smirk.
"I already know what you're capable of. That's proof enough. And in case you've conveniently forgotten—" his eyes narrowed, "—I'm the one who recommended you to her. Remember that, Solare."
For the briefest heartbeat, Riven's smile faltered, replaced by something harder, colder—gone almost before it formed.
"Is that so?" he murmured, the pleasant mask sliding seamlessly back into place. "Then I'll have to make certain I don't disappoint her."
The air between them felt brittle, as if the wrong word could shatter it.
Aysel frowned. This always happened—whenever these two met, their words were wrapped in velvet but carried knives. And she was certain now: they were hiding something. Was it… about her?
Before the thought could settle, Riven's voice softened as he turned to her.
"He tells me you need my… expertise. Would this be about dreams, perhaps?"
Her breath caught.
"You… knew?"
A quiet laugh escaped him, smooth but with a glint that didn't fade from his eyes.
"You're not the first to seek me out for such matters."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly, her defenses slipping.
"That's right. It's about something I've experienced recently. I couldn't find anything in the library."
Riven tilted his head, studying her.
"Not everything can be found in books. Some magic is too rare—too personal—to be recorded."
His gaze flickered to Zephyr, who had gone silent again, his jaw set. The exchange felt like a message spoken in a language Aysel didn't understand.
"Well," Riven said at last, stepping back a fraction, "we can talk after class. The professor's nearly here."
"I'll come too," Zephyr said suddenly.
Both Aysel and Riven turned toward him. His expression was calm now, almost casual.
"I doubt the Aelion heir requires my help," Riven replied, his smile acquiring a faint, sharpened edge.
Zephyr's grin matched it, cold for all its curve.
"I don't. But she does. And I'm not leaving her alone with you."
One of Riven's brows rose, the motion slow.
"Oh? And why would that be?"
Zephyr's voice was quiet, certain, and deliberate.
"Because you're the most dangerous of the five of us… when it comes to unusual things."
His eyes slid briefly to Aysel, the warning unspoken but clear.
Riven's smile deepened, curling into something that was more serpent than man.
"You're being unusually protective. That's not like you."
"I can be generous when it suits me," Zephyr replied lazily. "Not like I plan to play the villain anytime soon."
The tension was tangible now—thick, electric. Magic coiled around them like living things, brushing against Aysel's senses in invisible threads, their clash inevitable.
Then she saw the professor approaching.
Without thinking, she reached out and caught both their hands.
"Let's just sit. Class is starting."
Both men glanced at her in surprise, the charged air around them snapping back into stillness. She didn't wait for their answers, tugging them toward an empty table.
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By the end of the lesson, Aysel slumped against the wall outside, utterly spent.
Dealing with those two was a battle in itself.
She could still see the disaster in her mind—three of them assigned to brew a potion, the fragile cooperation that shattered within minutes. Zephyr had found fault in everything Riven did, and while Riven never raised his voice, his remarks were polished steel, cutting without leaving visible wounds. Herbs had been scattered, bottles smashed, and the professor's fury had been… memorable.
At least my marks survived, she thought with relief.
Still—note to self: never, ever partner with them again.
"Aysel. Let's go."
Riven's voice broke through her thoughts. He stood a few steps away, posture relaxed, eyes watchful.
"Come on, Ay," Zephyr added, flashing her a crooked grin. "The faster we're done, the less time we have to see his face."
Riven rolled his eyes but didn't take the bait.
"Don't listen to him. I'm sure he's been insufferable enough. Now—come. I'll take you to House Aqua."
And with that, he turned and walked away, his stride measured and sure—leaving Aysel caught between them once more, two opposing currents tugging her in ways she didn't yet understand.