Chapter 173: a little bit of jealousy

Chapter 173: A Little Bit of Jealousy

POV: Astrid Vale

I came home from classes to find Xander sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, dangling a feathered toy above Midnight’s head with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb.

"Don’t say anything," he said without looking up. "This is a delicate operation."

"What did you buy?"

"The best toy the pet shop had. Forty minutes I spent in that store. The clerk told me this one is irresistible to all kittens."

Midnight regarded the feather with the weary patience of someone watching a bad street performer. Then he stood, stretched, walked directly past Xander, climbed into my lap the moment I sat on the couch, and fell asleep.

Xander stared at the toy, then at the kitten, then at me. "He’s doing this on purpose. He is deliberately humiliating me."

"He’s a kitten."

"A kitten with a vendetta."

"You might have better luck if you stopped treating him like a rival," I said, scratching behind Midnight’s ear while he purred in his sleep.

Reed came out of the kitchen with a mug in his hand and looked at the scene with open amusement. "You’re the only one competing with an animal, Xander."

"I am not competing."

"You bought him a toy to win his love."

"That’s called diplomacy."

Reed sat down on the arm of the couch, and the teasing faded into something easier. After a while he asked, "How is the assessment preparation going?"

I hesitated. "Not great. My group’s first attempt went wrong, and I’m not sure I can make my magic do the same thing twice. Some days it responds like it’s been waiting for me, and other days it’s like talking to a wall."

"I’ll practice with you," Xander said immediately, sitting up. "Tonight, if you want."

"I’m fine," I said, though even I could hear how tired the words sounded.

Reed watched me for a moment. "You’re exhausted."

"I can manage."

"I know you can." His voice stayed calm. "But resting isn’t the same as being weak, Astrid."

I looked down at Midnight, stung more than I wanted to admit. After everything I’d survived, I hated the idea of anyone treating me as something breakable. "I don’t want to be handled like I’m fragile."

"I’m not handling you," Reed said. "I’m worried about you. Sometimes I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins." He let out a quiet breath. "I’m trying to learn the difference."

The honesty of it softened something in me, and I leaned against his knee. "Thank you for saying that."

Xander, who had never once tolerated a quiet moment lasting too long, cleared his throat dramatically. "Well. As your practice partner, I feel I should reassure you. My natural brilliance will more than compensate for your lack of magical talent."

I turned to him slowly. "You have no idea how witchcraft works."

"Confidence is half of every supernatural discipline."

"Confidence is not a substitute for competence," Reed said dryly.

"Spoken like a man who has never needed either to be charming."

"I’ve never needed to be charming because I’m competent."

"That’s the most arrogant thing you’ve ever said."

I started laughing, and once I started I couldn’t stop, laughing so hard that Midnight woke up with an offended squeak, glared at me, and stalked out of my lap toward the far corner of the room.

Xander pointed at Reed immediately. "Look what you did."

"I didn’t do anything."

"You made her laugh at the wrong volume."

I was wiping tears from my eyes when Xander’s phone rang, and he stepped into the hallway to answer it, muttering about people with terrible timing. Reed moved from the arm of the couch to sit beside me, close enough that his shoulder pressed against mine.

"How are you really?" he asked, quieter now. "Not the classes. You."

I thought about it honestly. "Happy," I said. "I really am. But sometimes it unsettles me how fast everything changed. A few weeks ago I was chained to a bed, and now I’m arguing about cat toys." I shook my head slightly. "It feels like I should be more broken than I am."

Reed didn’t tell me what I should feel or offer a fix. He simply listened, his thumb tracing slow circles on the back of my hand when I reached for it.

"I don’t need you to make every difficult thing disappear," I said. "I just want you next to me while I face it."

"I can do that," he said.

He kissed my forehead first, and then my lips, soft at first, then deeper when I leaned into him, the whole apartment fading to the sound of our breathing until Xander’s voice drifted back from the hallway wrapping up his call.

I pulled away just in time, and Reed’s mouth curved into the faintest smile as he leaned back like nothing had happened.

Later, I picked up my phone and checked the notice about the practical assessment, and my stomach sank slightly at an addition I hadn’t seen before. Our group would be required to show more than coordinated abilities. We would also have to demonstrate control when an unexpected complication appeared.

"They’re adding a surprise," I said.

"What kind?" Reed asked.

"It doesn’t say." I rubbed my eyes. "It won’t be like repeating a classroom exercise. I should practice tomorrow morning before class."

"You promised you’d sleep," Reed said.

"I’ll confiscate every textbook you own if you stay up all night," Xander added, returning from the hallway, pointing at my bag like he meant to carry out the threat immediately.

"Both of you, stop acting like my parents."

They exchanged a look.

I immediately regretted the words.

"Don’t," I said.

"I’m not saying anything," Xander said, grinning like a man who had just been handed an unfair gift.

"Parents," Reed repeated, his expression unreadable except for the corner of his mouth.

"I’m going to bed."

"We’ll tuck you in," Xander called after me.

I shut the bedroom door on his laughter, but I couldn’t help smiling.

When I came back out for water, the lights had dimmed and the apartment was quiet. Midnight lay curled in the corner between two discarded toys Xander had abandoned, breathing softly. I stopped in the doorway when I noticed Xander crouched beside him, carefully dragging the kitten’s blanket toward the warmest part of the room, near the heater vent.

He tucked the edge around Midnight’s small body with surprising gentleness, then glanced up and froze when he realized I was watching.

He straightened immediately. "He was going to get cold."

"Of course."

"Don’t start."

"I didn’t say a word."

"Your face is saying a lot of words."

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing, and he scowled and walked past me toward his room, though I caught him glancing back at the kitten once more before he shut the door.

I looked down at Midnight, curled up and warm, and shook my head.

Apparently, the little brat had stolen another heart. And judging by the way Xander had arranged that blanket, Midnight had no intention of giving it back.