Aerik rolled his eyes at Irina’s rebuttal. They both knew barracks were not the same thing, and they both knew the accusation was not fair. There were years of her life he knew nothing about, just as there were years of his she had not witnessed, and neither of them could undo that distance now. His words may have been technically true, but he could hear how cold they sounded even as he spoke them, especially in the face of how plainly her feelings showed. Still, lying would not make this better. If anything, it would only make the ground less stable beneath them. The facts needed to be on the table, even if they cut.
He was confused, though not in the way she seemed to think. Aerik knew what he felt, and he knew what he wanted on a purely human level. He was no less hot-blooded than anyone else his age. Desire was not the problem. The problem was that Irina had always been the one person he could speak to without guarding every word. What they shared in the maze at the academy had been real, something formed outside lineage, title, or expectation. That mattered to him more than he had ever said out loud, and he refused to gamble that bond away without understanding the cost.
Her absence over the last several years had only complicated that truth. In some ways, he had already mourned her. When they met again after so long, it had felt effortless, as though the years had folded in on themselves, and yet the ache of what had been lost never quite loosened its grip. Skadi was not wrong. There was history there, and no amount of argument would resolve it with all of them standing in the same room. What unsettled him was that Irina’s words left little room for how this had affected him at all. Everything burned outward from her, hot and immediate, without pause.
He wondered, briefly, whether it was selfish to wish she would slow down long enough to see him clearly.
She had known the boy he was. He was not sure she knew the man he was becoming.
Her grip closed around his wrist and stopped him before he could step away. His gaze moved between Irina and Skadi, tracking the shift in the room as the heat receded and Irina extinguished her own flame. The silence that followed felt heavier than the fire had.
“Don’t walk away.”
What complicated it further was that his partnership with Skadi had never felt forced or deliberate. It had formed naturally through shared training, mutual trust, and the quiet understanding that came from being shaped by the same demands. He was aware of her presence in a way that was steady rather than consuming, drawn to her strength and the confidence with which she occupied space. She was equally alluring, though in a different register than Irina, less bound to memory and more rooted in the present. Aerik did not mistake that awareness for certainty. He had not chosen anything, nor was he ready to. He only knew that what existed with Skadi was real in its own right, and that pretending otherwise would be another kind of dishonesty.
Aerik exhaled and forced himself to settle. He turned back toward Irina, found his balance, and opened his mouth to respond.
The knock on the door cut him off.
Quinn Varanin’s voice followed immediately after, calm and unmistakable. Aerik’s shoulders tightened. The day had found yet another way to worsen. When the door opened, the Echani woman stood there holding a hamper of his clothes that had somehow been left at her quarters, along with a container of homemade soup. He registered, distantly, that it was portioned for more than one person. The words left his mouth before his judgment caught up with them.
“Fokkðu mér!”
Quinn complicated things in a quieter way. His interest in her had grown over time, shaped less by moments than by proximity and admiration, and he was aware now that it had likely never been returned in the way he once hoped. She carried herself with an ease and authority that drew his attention without effort, and for a time he had mistaken that gravity for something more personal. Lately, he had begun to recognize the difference. There was no bitterness in that realization, only adjustment. Whatever place he occupied in her regard, it was not the one he had imagined, and he was learning to accept that without resentment. Attraction did not entitle him to reciprocity, and understanding that felt like another step away from the boy he had been and toward someone more measured, even if the awareness lingered longer than he would have preferred.
His eyes swept the room again. The damage was obvious. Irina had already snapped to attention and greeted Quinn, composed as ever. Whether Skadi shared that familiarity was something Aerik could not know. All he understood was that both women present had reason to read far more into this visit than he was prepared to explain. This was not simply a visit from a teacher, and no one in the room would pretend it was.
“Quinn…” he started, then winced, that was a mistake.
“Councilor Varanin. This is unexpected. Sorry about the clothes. I think the palace staff sometimes forget that Lord Prazutis finally granted me my own quarters.”
His eyes flicked briefly to Skadi before returning to Quinn.
“I believe you may have already met Skadi Lightbane. She is another apprentice of Darth Prazutis,” Aerik said, then turned slightly.
“This is Irina Jesart. She was with me at the academy for a time and now serves as an apprentice to the Dread Wolf.”
He did not say what all of them already knew.
Gerwald Lechner was his father.
Aerik accepted the soup with a small, weary nod.
“Thank you, I do not think I will be cooking in here for a few days.”
Skadi Lightbane
Aerik Lechner
