Mystery

Chapter Seven

Phina’s POV

Mystery 

“Can you stop speaking in riddles for five minutes?”

“Can you stop assuming every offer of help is an attempt to control you?”

I fall silent.

For one brief moment, neither of us speaks.

He’s right about one thing. I don’t know what to make of any of this.

I don’t know why Veyra selected me when I never applied. I don’t know why the principal looked at me as if I were a problem he’d been expecting. I don’t know why everyone keeps saying words like clan and mate as though I’m supposed to understand them.

And I certainly don’t know why Leander looks at me as if my inability to afford a room is somehow a personal tragedy.

But I know what it feels like to owe people money.

I know what it feels like when a favour becomes a weapon.

I’ve watched my mother work until her body could barely carry her home. I’ve watched her count money at the kitchen table, moving the same notes around as if rearranging them could somehow make them multiply.

I will not become another debt she has to worry about.

“I can’t pay you back,” I say quietly.

Something shifts in his face.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t owe you.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“And you can’t decide what I do with my money.”

I hate him.

I genuinely, sincerely, academically hate him.

Mostly because I have no argument that doesn’t sound like pride.

And pride, unfortunately, doesn’t pay accommodation fees.

The porter clears her throat.

“Should I reserve the room?”

“No,” I answer.

“Yes,” Leander says at the same time.

She freezes.

I glare at him.

He looks at her.

“Reserve it.”

“Leander—”

“Charge the accommodation to my account.”

The porter nods and begins typing.

I watch her fingers move across the keyboard, my stomach twisting with every click.

Just like that, a decision has been made about where I’ll sleep, and I haven’t even agreed to it.

“Fine,” I mutter.

Leander turns to me.

“Fine?”

“I’ll stay at the lodge.”

His expression gives away nothing.

“But I’m paying you back.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Phina—”

“I’ll sell photographs. I’ll take extra work. I’ll figure it out. But I’m not going to live in a room you paid for and pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”

He studies me for a long moment.

Then, to my surprise, he nods.

“Fine.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Why do you keep agreeing with me like you’re planning something?”

“Because arguing with you is exhausting.”

“Then stop doing it.”

“Gladly.”

The porter slides a form across the desk.

“Sign here, please.”

I take the pen.

My name stares back at me from the form.

PHINA VALE.

For a second, I remember the envelope waiting at home.

The name printed on it.

PHINA VALE.

My fingers tighten around the pen.

Why did Caspian call me that?

Why had my mother looked as though she’d seen a ghost when she read the letter?

And why did the principal seem to know more about my family than I did?

I sign the form.

“Your room is ready,” the porter says. “The lodge is on the eastern side of the campus. You’ll receive your access card and room key at reception.”

“Wonderful. Does the room come with an instruction manual for surviving whatever this place is?”

She gives me a small, uncertain smile.

“I’m sure you’ll settle in.”

I’m not.

Not even remotely.

Leander takes the form and hands it back to her.

“Make sure her access is restricted to the lodge and the main academic buildings for now.”

I turn to him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a precaution.”

“Against what? Freshmen? Furniture? The terrifying possibility that I might discover a library?”

His jaw tightens.

“Just follow the rules.”

“I’m beginning to think you were born with that sentence permanently attached to your tongue.”

“And I’m beginning to think you enjoy making my life difficult.”

“Your life was difficult before I arrived. I’m simply contributing to the university’s existing problems.”

For the first time, he laughs.

Not the restrained sound he’d been making earlier. An actual laugh, low and brief, that changes his face so completely I almost forget what an insufferable person he is.

Almost.

Then his expression shifts.

He turns towards the corridor, his head tilting slightly as though he’s listening to something I cannot hear.

The amusement drains from his face.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Your favourite lie.”

He looks back at me.

“Stay close to me when we leave this building.”

I stare at him.

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No. It’s a request.”

I blink.

That is new.

I pick up my bag.

“Fine. But if you try to drag me into another mysterious conversation about wolves, clans, or whatever a mate is, I’m walking straight back here.”

He holds the door open.

“Noted.”

I pass him, and for one fleeting second, my shoulder brushes his chest.

Something warm stirs beneath my ribs.

His hand closes around the doorframe.

I look up.

His eyes have turned bright blue again.

This time, I don’t think it’s a trick of the light.

He looks at me as if he’s fighting something inside himself.

Something that wants to reach for me.

Something that already knows me.

And then, so quietly I almost mistake it for my imagination, a voice whispers inside my head.

Stay with him.

I stop walking.

Leander goes completely still behind me.

Slowly, I turn.

His expression tells me he heard it too.

My heart begins to pound.

“Leander?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Tell me you heard that.”

His eyes search my face.

Then he says something that makes the corridor feel ten degrees colder.

“You shouldn’t be able to hear him yet.”