Chapter 201: A Subtle Probe

Andras sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze resting on Seraphina’s sleeping face.

Her breathing was steady, and the worst of her injuries had already been treated. Yet she showed no sign of waking. Vespera had closed her wounds, but nothing could replace the mana she had burned through in the fight. That kind of exhaustion required time and rest.

He lifted his eyes and studied the rest of the shelter.

The atmosphere remained heavy. Students sat beside injured friends, speaking in low voices or not at all. Instructors moved between the beds, checking bandages and murmuring reassurances.

Near the entrance, an instructor raised his voice just enough to carry across the room.

"Listen carefully. By order of the Headmistress, the academy is under lockdown. No one leaves the grounds, and no one enters. Remain in the shelters until further notice. Your families will be informed as soon as the situation allows."

A ripple of whispers followed.

Andras tilted his head back slightly. Through the reinforced ceiling, he could feel it, a vast, steady pressure of mana pressing in from every direction. It was precise and unwavering, like an invisible hand holding the entire academy in its grasp.

*An Eighth Circle barrier.*

That would be Elowen’s work. It was an impressive piece of spellcraft, and it carried an interesting side effect.

Nobody could leave.

That included demons.

His gaze drifted to the wall.

Aris Velloria sat in the shadow of a support pillar, exactly where she had settled when the instructors brought her in. Or rather, Sephtis did. From there she could see most of the shelter without appearing to watch anyone. It was a good position, chosen by someone who knew what she was doing.

She was sitting very still, one hand resting on the empty potion bottle beside her.

Andras considered her.

Sephtis was valuable in two ways. Her talent, Identity Assimilation, was something he wanted, and he would take it eventually. But she had infiltrated the academy for a reason, and whoever had sent her might have trusted her with information about the demon forces. Their methods, their plans, how the wards had been bypassed, perhaps even who was directing the invasion.

All of that would vanish the moment he killed her.

And a fight would do exactly that. If she realized he had seen through her, she would treat him as a threat, and she was a Peak Fourth Circle mage with a strong bloodline. He was confident he could win. He was less confident he could win quietly, in a crowded shelter, without losing the one thing he wanted to keep.

*It would be far more convenient if she simply couldn’t lie to me.*

He lingered on the thought. A demon who couldn’t hide, run, or turn on him would be a rare asset.

Something stirred at the edge of his mind.

It was not yet a plan. It was only a possibility, and the shape of it made his violet eyes narrow slightly.

*...That might actually work.*

He didn’t pursue it. An idea he hadn’t tested was only a guess, and he knew too little about how she thought. Before he did anything else, he needed to know her better.

Besides, the easiest way to study someone was to let them believe you were harmless.

The barrier gave him time. She wasn’t going anywhere.

He rose, glanced once at Seraphina, and crossed the shelter.

Sephtis noticed him coming when he was still several steps away. She lifted her head, and a flicker of surprise crossed her face.

"Lady Aris."

"Lord Andras."

She straightened a little, the polite reflex of a noble’s daughter addressed by a duchess’s son.

He stopped a short distance away.

"How are your injuries?"

"Much better, thank you. They weren’t serious."

Her voice carried the slight weakness expected of someone who had survived a bad day. It was a convincing performance.

"I noticed you declined Vespera’s offer to examine you," Andras said.

"Yes." She gave a small, tired smile. "It seemed wrong to take her time when others needed it more."

"A considerate choice."

"I only did what anyone would."

"Perhaps."

Andras glanced across the room. Vespera was crouched beside a student whose arm had been wrapped to the shoulder, one hand glowing faintly. Her movements had slowed. Her shoulders had begun to sag.

"Still," he said, "she’s the best healer in the academy, and she knows her own limits. If she offers again, you should let her decide how much she can spare."

It was a small remark, delivered casually.

For perhaps half a second, Sephtis said nothing.

It was only a fraction too long, but Andras was watching for exactly that.

"I will," she said. Her smile didn’t waver. "I just didn’t want to burden her."

"I understand."

He kept his expression mild and filed the pause away.

A brief silence followed. Somewhere behind them, a student coughed.

"May I ask you something, Lord Andras?" Sephtis said.

"Go ahead."

"Is there a reason you came over?" She tilted her head. "I’ve heard you don’t usually speak with people you aren’t close to. So I’m a little surprised."

"That’s true."

He answered without hesitation. "I don’t enjoy socializing."

Sephtis blinked.

She hadn’t expected him to admit it so plainly.

"Then why talk to me?"

"Your decision caught my attention. You were injured, yet you chose to let those in greater need receive treatment first." His tone was even. "I found that interesting."

She lowered her eyes. "It wasn’t anything special."

"Not everyone chooses that."

"I suppose not. After today, everyone has their own way of coping."

"True." Andras’s gaze moved across the rows of beds. "Some people panic. Some try to help. Some just wait for it to be over."

"And which are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really." She smiled faintly. "I was curious."

He considered the question for a moment, as though it deserved a real answer.

"I prefer to understand a situation before I decide what to do about it."

It sounded perfectly reasonable.

It was also entirely true.

"That’s sensible," Sephtis said.

"You should rest. You’re still pale."

"I will. Thank you for your concern."

He nodded once. The conversation had been brief, and that was deliberate. A longer one would have felt like pressure.

Behind him, there was a soft rustle of sheets.

"...Andras."

He turned.

Seraphina’s fingers had moved against the blanket. Her eyelids were fluttering open, her sapphire eyes clouded and unfocused.

"We’ll talk another time," he said to Sephtis.

"Of course."

He walked back to the bed without looking over his shoulder.

---

Sephtis watched him go.

Only when he sat beside the silver-haired girl did she let her gaze drop to the floor.

*Andras Darkmoor.*

Aris’s memories were clear on the subject. The duchess’s son kept to himself. He had a handful of people he tolerated, Seraphina Valebright and the princess among them, and ignored everyone else. In all the time Aris had spent at the academy, he had never once approached her.

Yet he had crossed the room to speak to her.

She turned the conversation over carefully, looking for the hook. He had been polite. He had asked about her injuries, praised a choice most people wouldn’t have noticed, and told her to rest. Nothing he said was suspicious.

And that was precisely what bothered her.

Everyone else in this shelter wore the day on their faces. Fear, grief, exhaustion. Students stared at nothing. Instructors moved too quickly, as though stillness might let the screaming back in.

Andras had spoken to her the way he might have on an ordinary afternoon.

*He told me to let the Saintess examine me.*

It was a perfectly natural thing to say. A kind one. It was also the one thing she could never allow. Divine Grace purged demonic energy, and she had no idea how much it might reveal if it touched her. The refusal had been her cleverest piece of acting, and he had praised it and then nudged her to undo it.

Coincidence, most likely. Concerned classmates said things like that all the time.

Most likely.

Sephtis lifted her eyes just enough to see him.

He was leaning toward the girl in the bed, speaking in a voice too low to carry. His face was calm. He didn’t look in her direction.

*Unusual.*

She had spent years reading humans. Most were easy. Their fear showed in their hands, their pride in their posture, their lies in the half-second before they spoke. Andras Darkmoor showed none of it. He was like a closed door.

Of course, he was sitting beside a girl who had nearly died. Perhaps that explained the distance in his manner.

Perhaps.

She turned her attention to more practical matters.

The barrier overhead was a problem. Her orders had been to observe and avoid exposure, but they had assumed she could leave when the time came. Now every exit was sealed behind a wall of Eighth Circle mana.

The barrier showed no sign of weakening. Its caster might be exhausted, but the structure remained stable above the academy.

Leaving without permission would be nearly impossible, and asking for it would invite questions.

Staying meant staying hidden.

Hidden meant staying close to the people who might find her out.

She glanced at the Saintess, who was swaying slightly as she bent over her next patient. Then, again, at the duchess’s son.

Her smile returned, small and polite, in case anyone happened to be looking.

*I should pay more attention to him.*

---

Andras reached the bed and sat.

"You’re awake."

Seraphina’s gaze found him slowly. For a moment she looked as though she were not sure what she was seeing. Then relief softened her face.

"Where...?"

"The western shelter. You’ve been here for a while."

She turned her head and took in the beds, the bandages, and the instructors moving between them. He watched the memories return, one at a time.

Her hand moved toward her ribs.

"My injuries..."

"Vespera treated them." He pulled the chair closer. "Divine Grace closed the wounds and cleared the demonic energy. You’re stable."

"I see."

"You also burned through nearly all your mana. Healing the body doesn’t restore that. You need to rest."

She nodded faintly.

"And everyone else?"

"The injured are being treated. The professors have secured the academy and sealed it. They’re handling the aftermath." He paused. "You don’t need to worry about any of that right now."

She looked at him then. Her expression was tired and open in a way she rarely allowed anyone to see.

"...I’m glad you’re here."

Andras met her gaze.

He didn’t answer immediately.

He understood what she meant, but the words left him strangely uncertain. He knew how someone was supposed to respond in a moment like this. Yet knowing the appropriate response and genuinely feeling the need to give it were two different things.

He stayed where he was.