ShadowBound: The Need For Power

" ...choose Edith Roswell."

Sheila blinked once, caught off guard by the specific name.

"Edith?"

"Yes."

"Why her?"

"In my eyes, she is second only to you when it comes to leadership among the second-years," Liam said. "She is reliable, composed, and less polarizing than me. Students are more likely to accept her beside you without turning it into a statement."

Sheila looked down thoughtfully.

Edith Roswell was not the loudest student in their year, nor the strongest, nor the kind of person who drew attention by force. But Liam’s suggestion was not careless. Edith had a steady presence, a sense of responsibility, and a way of giving instructions that did not feel like domination. She had helped organize students after Nalim, quietly but effectively, and Sheila had noticed more than once that others listened to her without much resistance.

’He is right,’ Sheila thought, though the admission came reluctantly. ’She would be easier for others to accept.’

It was not the answer she wanted.

But it was a good answer.

Liam went on, "And if you need someone to consult with, speak to Ariana."

Sheila looked at him again.

"Ariana?"

"Yes. She may be emotional at times, and she doubts herself more than she should, but her mind cannot be ignored. If you need someone to think through the exam structure, possible group dynamics, or magical theory, she is the best brain to speak to."

The compliment was blunt, practical, and slightly rude in the way only Liam could manage. He did not say Ariana was brilliant with warmth or admiration. He said her mind could not be ignored as if that were the simplest fact in the room. Still, the respect in it was clear.

Sheila’s expression softened faintly. "You really do trust her intelligence."

"I’d be lying if I say otherwise."

"That is your version of a high compliment, isn’t it?"

"If that’show you see it."

A small smile touched Sheila’s face despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Of course."

For a moment, the room settled into quiet again. Outside the window, the wind pushed against the glass with a faint, steady pressure. The lamp on Sheila’s desk glowed warmly over the organized books and papers, casting soft light across her face.

Sheila still was not satisfied.

Edith was a good choice. Ariana was a good person to consult. Liam had given her practical options, useful options, and he had done it without dismissing her concerns. But he was still keeping himself at the edge of the matter, close enough to advise but far enough to avoid being named.

She could not fully accept that.

"I still want you involved somehow," she said.

Liam looked at her.

Sheila held his gaze. "Not as the visible leader if you refuse that. Not as someone standing in front of everyone if you believe it would create more resistance. But involved. I cannot handle every possible fracture alone."

Liam said nothing for a few seconds.

He understood what she was asking. Not only for help, but for assurance. Sheila did not want him to take the role she had accepted. She wanted to know that if things began to break, he would not stand aside simply because he disliked the structure of leadership.

’This is going to be annoying,’ Liam thought.

Still, the concern itself was not stupid.

If Chris became a problem during the practical exams, that could affect more than Sheila’s pride. It could damage the second-years’ performance, create danger in a cooperative exam, and fracture whatever alignment had begun forming after Nalim. Liam did not care about leading them, but he did care about avoiding unnecessary complications. A sabotaged practical exam would be a complication.

"If you are worried about Chris," Liam said, "I will find a way for Chris not to be a problem by the time the practical exam arrives."

Sheila’s expression changed.

The words had been calm, almost casual, but there was an edge beneath them.

"Liam," she said carefully.

He looked at her.

"Do not do anything reckless."

"I’m not planning to attack him in a hallway or anything stupid like that."

"That is not as reassuring as you probably think."

"Well, it should be."

"It is not."

Liam leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "I will make sure he has no opportunity or reason to cause trouble. That is all."

Sheila studied him, searching for the boundary between practical intent and danger. With Liam, the line was not always where others expected it to be. He could be ruthless without sounding emotional. He could call something simple and mean that he had already considered several ways to remove it from the board. Yet he was not careless. Not usually. If he said he was not planning something stupid, he probably meant it.

Probably.

"You cannot simply decide people are problems and remove them," Sheila said.

"I can decide they are risks and manage them."

"That sounds worse."

"It is more accurate."

Sheila sighed, though there was more exhaustion than anger in it. "You are difficult."

"I’ll not deny that."

That drew a reluctant smile from her again, though it faded quickly.

Liam’s tone became more final. "Edith is still your best choice for vice. Ariana is the best person to consult with. But if things reach a point where I feel I must help directly, I will."

Sheila’s eyes remained on him.

"I give you my word," he said.

That settled the conversation more than any longer speech could have.

Sheila still wanted more from him. She wanted him beside her officially because his mind, his calm, and his ability to see uglier possibilities would make her feel less alone in what was coming. But Liam’s word was never meaningless. He did not give it often, and when he did, he treated it like something practical and binding rather than ceremonial.

She nodded slowly. "All right."

Liam stood. "Then I should go."

Sheila rose as well. "I’ll walk you out."

"You don’t have to."

"I know."

She walked with him to the door anyway. The quiet between them felt different now, less awkward but heavier. They had not solved everything. In truth, the conversation had likely only confirmed that the practical exams could become more complicated than either of them wanted. But they had at least named the concern, and that mattered.

At the doorway, Sheila opened the door and stepped aside.

"Thank you," she said.

Liam picked up his books and assignment materials. "For what?"

"For listening. And for giving me a real answer, even if it was not exactly the one I wanted."

"That is usually how real answers work."

Sheila shook her head faintly, amused despite herself. "Good night, Liam."

"Good night."

He left, and Sheila watched him move down the corridor until he turned out of sight.

Then she closed the door.

The room became quiet again.

For several seconds, Sheila remained near the door with one hand resting lightly against the wood. The conversation replayed itself in pieces: Liam’s practical refusal, his suggestion of Edith, the way he spoke of Ariana’s mind, and the calm edge in his promise to make sure Chris would not become a problem.

She walked back toward the small table and sat, though she did not immediately reach for any of her books.

"It felt refreshing," she murmured to herself, "talking to him alone after all these months."

The admission made her feel slightly foolish, but it was true. Their conversation had been awkward at first, direct in all the ways Liam usually was, and frustrating in the places where he refused to make things easy. Yet it had also been grounding.

Sheila leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the window where the cold night pressed against the glass.

Outside, Liam had already left her dormitory building.

The moment he stepped back into the open air, the cold struck him again.

His jaw tightened.

The wind had grown worse after sunset, cutting across the academy grounds with sharper force than before. The warmth of Sheila’s room vanished too quickly, replaced by late-autumn air that bit at his face and slid under his collar despite the fire-aligned Myst he drew through himself. The path back to his own dormitory seemed longer than it had any right to be, and the few students still outside moved quickly, their coats pulled tight and their heads lowered against the wind.

’Of course,’ Liam thought. ’Another problem.’

He had tried to avoid leadership. He had handed the visible role to Sheila, lowered his rank enough that the structure no longer pointed directly at him, and kept himself at the edge of the second-years’ fragile unity wherever possible. Yet somehow, despite all of that, the practical exams had begun reaching for him before they even started. Chris, Sheila, leadership, vice positions, sabotage, student loyalty—all of it now sat in his mind beside Marren Voss’s report and Nyxie’s memories.

The cold made that more irritating.

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