Chapter 72: The Kindness That Was Never Mine
{IRIS}
"There," Seraphina said, already stepping back. "Done."
As the tension eased, my thoughts drifted elsewhere—unbidden, unwelcome.
Didn’t I get hit by the black flame too?
The realization struck like a sudden chill.
I glanced down at my arm, heart pounding.
Nothing.
No discoloration. No pain. No lingering mark.
Exactly as I had expected.
A strange calm settled over me, followed by dread.
So curses didn’t work on me too.
Or perhaps... they never had.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing my racing thoughts into order.
If that was true—if I truly possessed some form of innate resistance—then maybe, just maybe, I could manifest my healing abilities properly.
If I could do that, then I wouldn’t be expelled. I wouldn’t be cast aside like a defective mutt.
But the truth loomed darker still.
I didn’t even know how.
I didn’t know I had arcane potential until days ago. A month, at most.
How was I supposed to manifest something I’d been unaware of my entire life?
And what if I failed?
If I was expelled—
My chest tightened.
Lord Val.
What would happen if I didn’t make it?
Would he discard me as well?
The thought hollowed me out.
I was cornered. Pressed from every side. Time was slipping through my fingers, and the expectations placed upon me felt impossibly heavy.
This was bad.
No—this was worse than bad.
If I failed to manifest my arcane by next week, then there would be no appeal left for me.
I would be expelled.
The thought clung to me like damp mist, creeping beneath my skin, tightening around my ribs until even breathing felt like an effort.
The academy’s stone halls loomed higher than usual that morning—cold, indifferent witnesses to my inadequacy.
Every whisper of arcane energy around me felt mocking, as though the very air knew what I lacked.
I lowered my gaze to my hands.
Still nothing.
No spark.
No resonance.
No whisper of magic answering my call.
A sharp disturbance tore me from my thoughts.
The door slid open with a smooth sound.
A hush fell over the room.
Lord Val entered.
He did not need an announcement. His presence alone commanded attention, bending the room subtly toward him, like iron filings toward a lodestone.
His dark attire was immaculate, cut to perfection, his posture straight, confident in its restraint. The sigil of House Nightborne gleamed faintly at his breast, catching the cold light of the chamber.
Handsome did not begin to describe him.
He was beautiful in the way winter was beautiful—severe, merciless, and impossible to ignore.
My breath caught in my throat.
My heart slammed violently against my chest, loud enough that I was certain others must hear it. For a single, reckless moment, a dangerous thought bloomed in my mind.
Was he here... for me?
"L-Lord—"
The word barely left my lips before it died there.
He walked past me without pause.
Did not look.
Did not slow.
Did not acknowledge my existence at all.
Lord Val went straight to Caroline.
I froze where I stood.
I watched, helpless, as the impossible happened.
His face—so often carved from stone, so often devoid of warmth—softened. The sharp severity of his features eased, the cold authority in his eyes dimming into something gentler, something almost... human.
His voice, when he spoke, was no longer the deep, stony timbre I knew.
It was softer.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Caroline blinked, clearly startled that such a noble vampire—that noble vampire—was addressing her directly. "U-Um... yes?"
"I am sorry for what Morgana did to you," he said, his tone solemn, controlled, sincere. "She will be reprimanded severely."
The word severely carried weight. It was not a promise—it was a certainty.
Before Caroline could respond, Lord Val reached for her hand.
Gently.
The sight struck me like a blade to the chest.
He placed a small vial into her palm. The liquid inside glowed faintly, swirling with threads of silver and crimson—magic far beyond what most students would ever see.
"I know this cannot compensate for what was done," he continued, "but I would like you to have this. It will cure any lingering wounds."
Gasps rippled through the room.
I barely heard them. My ears rang, blood roaring in my head.
Professor Seraphina’s eyes widened, practically bulging from their sockets. "That’s a—" She swallowed. "That’s a Restorative Vial, isn’t it? The kind said to heal wounds and minor curses alike. Lord Val, that vial is extraordinarily expensive."
Caroline stared at the vial as if it might bite her.
"Oh—uh—thank you," she said quickly, then shook her head and tried to return it. "But reprimanding her is enough. I don’t need—"
Lord Val closed her fingers around the vial with an ease that brooked no refusal.
"Keep it," he said, smiling faintly. "And do not worry. I will ensure she understands the gravity of her mistake."
If I had not known better, I would have thought this man an imposter.
Never—never—had he spoken to me like that.
Never had his gaze softened upon meeting mine.
Never had his cold composure fractured in my presence.
Never had kindness been offered so freely.
My heart constricted painfully.
I knew this feeling.
I had felt it once before—burning, humiliating, unwelcome.
Jealousy.
I had felt it toward Ember when she stole Lorcan from me.
But this—this was different.
I should not have felt this toward Lord Val. He was not my mate. He was not my lover. He was not even my ally in truth.
He was my patron.
Nothing more.
A chess player.
And I was merely a pawn.
So why did it hurt like this?
Why did my chest ache as though something vital were being torn away?
What is this feeling? I wondered desperately. How do I teach my heart not to feel it?
Toward him, I—
"Well then," Lord Val said, straightening. "I will excuse myself. I only came to offer my apology on Morgana’s behalf."
He inclined his head politely.
And then he left.
Just like that.
He did not look at me—not once. Not when he entered.
Not when he spoke. Not when he departed.
It was as though I did not exist.
I clutched my chest as the pain sharpened, sudden and merciless.
What...?
We had agreed—hadn’t we?—to remain strangers in public. To sever visible ties. To pretend we did not know each other.
But this... this felt cruel.
Too much.
Calm down, I told myself fiercely. You are imagining things.
Lord Val was my patron. Nothing more. I was a tool, a piece on his board, chosen for utility alone.
I had always known that.
Yet watching him be gentle—so openly gentle—with another woman made my teeth grind together.
No.
This was ridiculous.
He was here because Morgana had acted out of line. Because she was part of his circle, an ally of House Nightborne. He was correcting an imbalance, nothing more.
That was all.
Nothing more.
And yet—
Why a human?
The question whispered itself into my mind, unbidden.
Why Caroline?
There had to be a reason.
There was always a reason with Lord Val.
Perhaps he wanted her status. She was, after all, a human noble. Useful. Politically advantageous.
Yes.
That had to be it.
Right?
"Now what was that about?" Doctor Vivienne muttered, clearly speaking to no one in particular.
Professor Seraphina, Doctor Vivienne, and several others turned toward Caroline, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion.
"W-What?" Caroline asked.
"Do you even know who just visited you?" Vivienne pressed, eyes wide.
"Uh... Lord Vladimir Nightborne?" Caroline offered uncertainly.
Professor Seraphina let out a sharp laugh. "Not just Lord Vladimir. That was Lord Vladimir of House Nightborne—the sole Lord of Nightborne, leader of the conservative faction among the noble houses. He directly opposes Lord Valtheris’s revolutionary faction."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "He is, for all intents and purposes, the Prince of Vampires."
A beat.
"And he came here," she finished, incredulous, "for you."
Exactly what I had been thinking.
Caroline looked utterly lost. "I—I don’t know why you’re asking me. I don’t even know him personally. That was the first time we’ve ever met and talk to him... right, Iris?"
She turned to me, her gaze open, innocent, seeking reassurance.
I couldn’t meet her eyes.
Not when my chest felt like it was caving in. Not when envy and confusion churned together inside me, bitter and shameful.
"Iris?" Caroline asked softly, concern creeping into her voice.
"Ah—sorry," I said quickly, forcing the words out. "I—I need to go back first."
Before anyone could stop me, I turned and left.
My footsteps echoed too loudly in the corridor.
Caroline was my friend.
She was.
But right now... I couldn’t face her.
Not while I felt so jealous towards her that I wanted to attack her.
I had to get of there before I could attack her myself.
I hurried into the corridor, half hoping—half dreading—that I might still catch Lord Val and demand an explanation for what he had done.
He had been the one to insist on distance between us, on silence and restraint, and yet he had spoken so easily to a human—to Caroline.
Was there a reason for it?
