Aflora
Finally, something normal.
No snakes or gargoyles or fiery bugs or anything unseemly. Just a standard bedroom equipped with a double bed, a dresser, a small attached bath, and a closet.
Easy.
Elegantly furnished.
And boasting a window overlooking the Academy grounds. The entire property reminded me of a human cathedral with all the stained-glass windows and obsidian stone. Most of the buildings appeared to be the same height as this one, with random spires interspersed between. Framed by the stars and moonlight, it really did have a vampiric appeal.
Appropriate, considering the Midnight Fae’s penchant for blood.
I touched my neck and walked into the bathroom in search of a mirror. Apart from my untamed hair, I still looked the same. The mark on my throat resembled more of a hickey than a bite. At least my fae healing abilities still worked. Unlike my access to the source.
Grasping the cold marble sink, I leaned in to study every crevice of my face.
What binding power did they put on me? I wondered. And how do I break it?
I ran my hands over my blouse and skirt, down my legs, and to my shoes, searching for anything that felt wrong or foreign. Nothing.
I stripped out of my clothes, just in case.
Still nothing.
Grabbing the sink, I scowled at my reflection. It had to be some sort of magical net that I couldn’t sense. So how did I defeat it?
Padding into the bedroom on bare feet, I went to the window to search for a tree or any kind of life outside. If I could find a piece of earth and latch onto it, I might be able to call to my source and break through—
A knock interrupted my concentration, and the door opened a second later.
I spun around with a glower, irritated by the interruption.
“Aflora, Zeph is…” Kolstov trailed off, his eyes wandering over me.
I frowned at him. What is his prob…? Oh. Oh! My arm flew up to cover my breasts, my opposite hand falling to my lower half. “Get out!”
His palms rose in surrender as he took a step backward.
Then he bent and tossed something inside. “Clothes to, uh, wear.?
?? He seemed to shake himself before closing the door.
I scowled at the wood. Pompous, intrusive wad of—
Wait.
How did he open that door? I’d locked it.
Marching over, I found it distinctly unlatched.
Not okay.
Plucking the shirt off the floor, I pulled it over my head before donning the boxer shorts—an item I really hoped was clean—then threw open the door and stomped outside.
Only to freeze with one foot in the hallway.
The scene at the end of the corridor held me captive, my jaw hitting the floor.