Seraphina Ashwood did not run.
Running was for students late to class. Running was for retreating armies.
Seraphina Ashwood stalked.
She moved through the Royal Academy library with the silent grace of a jungle cat. Her heels made no sound on the stone floor.
She had spent the last three hours eliminating variables.
Marcus was not in the main reading room.
He was not in the history wing.
He was not in the rare magical artifacts section.
Most people would have given up. They would have assumed he had gone home.
But Seraphina knew better.
She knew the look in a man's eyes when he was running from something internal.
She had seen that look in the mirror for three years.
"He is hiding," she whispered. "And he is terrible at it."
She approached the circulation desk. A junior librarian sat there.
He looked bored. He was stacking books with a glazed expression.
Seraphina cleared her throat.
The librarian jumped. He dropped a book.
"Professor Ashwood!" He scrambled to stand. "I didn't see you there."
"At ease," she said. Her voice was calm. Professional. "I require information."
The librarian swallowed hard. "Information?"
"Regarding unauthorized access to restricted sections."
"We... we haven't had any breaches, Professor."
"Not a breach," Seraphina corrected. "A visitor. Someone who stays late. Someone who perhaps eats beef jerky in areas where food is strictly prohibited."
The librarian's eyes shifted to the left. A tell.
"I... I don't know anything about that."
Seraphina reached into her bag. She pulled out a book.
It was a first edition copy of Advanced Kinetics in Close Quarters. Her book.
The one she had published last year.
She opened the cover. She uncapped a pen. She signed her name with a flourish.
She slid the book across the counter.
"I believe you are studying for your combat certification," she said. "This might help with the practical exam."
The librarian stared at the book. It was greed, pure and simple.
"The Astronomy Archive," he whispered. "Top of the tower. He comes down at sunset for water."
Seraphina smiled. It was a terrifyingly pleasant smile.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
She turned and headed for the stairs.
She didn't take the main lift. The lift was noisy. It rattled.
She took the service stairs. Five flights.
She climbed them without breaking a sweat.
At the top of the stairs, she paused. She checked her reflection in a darkened window.
Her hair was perfect. Her robes were immaculate.
She didn't look like a woman whose heart had been breaking for three days.
She looked like an instructor about to deliver a very difficult lesson.
"Alright, Marcus," she murmured. "Playtime is over."
She positioned herself in the shadows of the corridor. It was the only exit from the Astronomy Archive.
She checked her watch. Sunset was in four minutes.
She waited because patience was a weapon and Seraphina was very well armed.
Inside the archive, Marcus Aldridge was hungry.
He had finished the beef jerky two hours ago. He was now contemplating the nutritional value of parchment.
"Starvation is not a valid strategy," he told a star chart.
The star chart didn't argue.
He rubbed his eyes. He had been reading about prophetic interpretations for six hours.
His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
"Maybe I can sneak out," he thought. "Get a sandwich. Come back before anyone notices."
He stood up. His knees cracked.
He grabbed his notebook. He grabbed his empty water flask.
He walked to the door.
He listened. Silence.
"Coast is clear," he whispered.
He unlocked the door. He stepped into the corridor.
He was looking down at his notebook. He was reading a passage about the "Binding of Souls."
He turned the corner.
He walked directly into a wall of blue wool.
"Oof," Marcus said. He stumbled back.
He looked up.
It wasn't a wall.
It was Seraphina Ashwood.
She stood with her arms crossed. Her ice-blue eyes were locked on his face. She looked like a statue of judgment carved from marble.
"Going somewhere?" she asked.
Marcus dropped his notebook.
He dropped his flask.
He considered dropping his body to the floor and playing dead.
"Professor!" his voice squeaked. It was an undignified sound. "I... I was just..."
"Just what?" Seraphina stepped forward.
Marcus stepped back. His back hit the doorframe.
He was trapped.
"I was just... researching," he said. "Astronomy. Very fascinating. The stars. They move."
"The stars move," Seraphina repeated flatly.
"Yes. Constantly. Can't stop them."
"Marcus," she said.
The sound of his name stopped his rambling. It wasn't angry. It was tired.
"Why are you hiding?"
"It's an archive," Marcus corrected weakly. "A very prestigious archive."
"It's a dusty room full of outdated maps," she said. "And you've been in there for three days."
"I have a passion for geography."
"You hate geography. You told me so last week. You said maps were 'just drawings of places you'd rather be'."
Marcus winced. He really needed to stop being so honest in the future. It was ruining his lies.
"Look," he said. He tried to straighten his posture, to look like a Viscount's son and not a fugitive. "I've just been busy. Estate business."
"From the library tower?"
"The light is better here."
"At night?"
"Ideally, yes."
Seraphina sighed. She uncrossed her arms.
She looked at him with an expression that made his chest hurt.
It wasn't anger. It was disappointment.
"Marcus," she said quietly. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop lying to me. You aren't busy. You aren't researching. You are avoiding me."
Marcus opened his mouth to deny it.
Seraphina raised a hand. "Don't."
She took a breath. She steadied herself.
"I checked your schedule," she said. "I asked around."
"You did?"
"Yes. You skipped the academy gala. I was there."
"I had a... stomach thing."
"You left the tea house five minutes before I arrived on Tuesday."
"Coincidence."
"You actively ran away from the training grounds when you saw me walking down the path."
"I was... jogging. For fitness."
"In boots?"
"Ankle weights," Marcus lied. "It's a new training method."
Seraphina stepped into his personal space.
She was close. Too close. He could smell the lavender. He could see the flecks of silver in her blue eyes.
"You redirect every conversation to Theodore," she said.
"He's a great conversational topic!"
"You tried to set us up in the pavilion. You sent me flowers and pretended they were from him."
"They were from him! Spiritually!"
"Marcus."
She said his name like a command. He shut up.
"If you're not interested," she said. Her voice was carefully controlled. It was brittle. "If you don't want to spend time with me."
She looked down at her hands.
"You can simply tell me. I am an adult. I can handle rejection."
The words hit Marcus like a physical blow.
Rejection?
She thought he was rejecting her?
He thought about the way she looked when she laughed.
He thought about the vulnerability she had shown him in the café.
He thought about how much he wanted to hold her hand.
"No," he said. The word burst out of him.
"No?" She looked up. Hope flickered in her eyes. It was terrifying.
"I'm not rejecting you!" Marcus panicked. "That's the problem! I can't reject you!"
"Then why are you hiding in a tower?"
"Because you're not supposed to like me!"
Seraphina blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You're supposed to like him!" Marcus pointed vaguely in the direction of the training grounds where Theodore was probably polishing a hilt.
"Theodore?" Seraphina looked baffled. "Why would I like Theodore?"
"Because he's the protagonist!"
The word hung in the air.
Oh shit, Marcus thought I really fucking said it.