ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Isolde was left still for a fraction longer than she liked.

It was not fear. Not exactly. Surprise, however, was difficult to deny. Liam Hunter was not supposed to be there. Not in the third-year wing at this hour, not standing in the enclosed walkway between the academic section and the dormitory building, and certainly not waiting in a place she had to pass through after leaving a room no one should have known she entered.

For a moment, her mind moved through possibilities quickly enough that none settled fully before the next appeared. Had he followed Chris? Had he followed her? Had he guessed she would come this way? Had someone seen her and told him? Had he been waiting there by coincidence? No. Liam Hunter did not feel like coincidence.

The thought made her irritation tighten beneath the calm she wore.

How had he known where she was?

She had not told anyone she would still be in the third-year wing, and after the announcement in Beacon Hall, most students had scattered to dinner, dormitories, or frantic conversation about Eldervale. The student council office could explain her presence in the wing, but not the empty classroom. Unless Liam had simply guessed.

She was student president, after all. If she was not in the dining hall or dormitory, it would not be outrageous to assume she was still handling something in the upperclassmen’s wing. Student council work often ran late, especially now that the second-year Bastion Assessment had been announced and leadership succession would become a louder issue.

But Isolde did not believe that was all.

Liam stood too still.

His red eyes were fixed on her with the detached patience of someone who had not wandered here looking for a possibility, but waited because he already had the answer. His hands were in the pockets of his coat, and the dim light of the enclosed walkway made the faint red traces in his dark hair seem sharper. Beyond the glass panels beside them, the academy grounds lay under night and wind, the bare trees moving in restless silhouettes. Inside, the lamps burned warmly, but the air between them felt colder than the outside.

Isolde let her usual expression settle fully over her face.

Calm. Approachable. Mildly curious.

"Mr. Hunter," she said, her voice smooth and pleasant. "What is a second-year doing in the upperclassmen’s wing this late without permission?"

Liam did not answer directly.

He simply looked at her.

That irritated her more than a reply would have.

Then he pushed himself off the wall with unhurried ease and took a few steps closer. Not enough to crowd her, but enough to make the distance between them feel chosen rather than accidental. His hands remained in his pockets, his posture relaxed, and his expression almost bored, except for the coldness in his eyes.

"You have been quite busy tonight," he said.

Isolde’s smile did not falter. "I am the student president. Being busy is an everyday thing for me."

"Do not waste time pretending."

The words were quiet, but they struck cleanly.

Isolde’s gaze sharpened by a fraction.

Liam looked down at her because of the height difference, and there was nothing polite in his eyes now. Not anger in the usual sense. Something colder, more judgmental, as though he had already examined her excuse and decided it was insulting.

"I know you met with Chris moments ago in an empty third-year classroom," Liam said. "I know you have been feeding him information about the Bastion Assessment. I know you have been using Sheila’s trust to give him details about her."

For one heartbeat, Isolde’s mask cracked.

Her lips parted slightly, and the softness in her eyes vanished into something hard and guarded. Her shoulders did not move, but the entire atmosphere around her changed, like a curtain being pulled back just enough to reveal the locked door behind it. Then she recovered. The approachable calm returned quickly, so quickly that most people would have doubted they had seen anything at all.

Liam had seen it.

He knew because Nyxie still remained hidden in Chris’s shadow, and Smoke had remained with Isolde. He had heard enough of the conversation through one shadow and confirmed enough through the other. The evidence was clean inside his own mind, but useless outside it. He could not report Isolde to the academy without explaining how he knew, and explaining how he knew would expose more of his shadow abilities than he had any intention of revealing. It would also raise questions about him spying on a third-year female student after dark inside the upperclassmen’s wing.

Isolde was intelligent enough to understand that almost immediately.

Her smile became faintly sharper.

"If you know about a private conversation inside a third-year classroom," she said softly, "then that creates a few unpleasant possibilities, does it not?"

Liam said nothing.

Isolde stepped a little closer now, her calm returning with a different kind of confidence. "Either you followed me, listened through the door, or used that shadow creature of yours to spy on me."

Her eyes settled on his face, searching for a reaction.

There was none.

She continued anyway. "Most of the second-years know, after Nalim, that you can summon a shadow creature. The wolf, yes? Smoke, if the reports I have access to are accurate. A creature capable of sharing senses with you to some degree." Her head tilted slightly. "As student president, I see more than ordinary students do. Not everything, of course, but enough."

Liam’s expression remained flat.

Isolde’s voice stayed light, almost conversational. "Now imagine how ugly it would sound if a second-year dark mage was accused of secretly spying on a female third-year student after dark. Especially while trespassing in the third-year wing without permission."

The walkway grew quiet again.

Outside, wind tapped faintly against the reinforced glass.

Liam had expected this.

From the moment he decided to confront her directly, he had known what kind of counter she might use. Isolde had the position, the social advantage, and the cleaner public image. If he threatened to report her, she could turn the accusation back on him with ease.

Even if the academy believed him privately, the method would be questioned. If the students heard, the story would not become "Isolde fed Chris information." It would become "Liam Hunter used his shadow creature to spy on an upperclassman girl at night."

People preferred the uglier rumor when it suited their discomfort with him.

Liam did not care enough to walk into that trap.

"Reporting you was never my plan," he said.

Isolde watched him carefully.

"I have no intention of taking this to the academy," Liam continued. "At least not now."

"At least not now," she repeated.

"Yes."

"How generous."

"It is practical."

"Then why are you here?"

"To know why."

Isolde’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Liam’s voice stayed calm. "You do not care about Chris. Not really. He is too arrogant to be someone you would actually follow, and you are too controlled to waste effort helping him out of loyalty. So I want to know why you are using him like a puppet, gaining Sheila’s trust, and exploiting it."

Isolde smiled again, though it was not as easy as before. "That is a very dramatic interpretation."

"It is quite accurate if you ask me."

"You have decided that already?"

"Yes."

"How frightening."

Liam’s gaze did not move. "Do not dodge."

For the first time, her smile thinned.

"Chris is useful to the second-years’ structure," she said. "He still has influence. It would be careless to ignore him."

"You are not trying to stabilize the structure."

"No?"

"You are applying pressure to Sheila through him."

Isolde’s expression remained composed, but something behind her eyes sharpened again.

Liam took one slow step closer. "Chris is proud, insecure, and easy to aim. He thinks he is reclaiming something. You are letting him believe that because it helps you."

"How certain you sound."

"You made it obvious."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

Isolde let out a quiet laugh, though there was less warmth in it now. "And here I thought I was doing rather well."

"You were," Liam said. "With everyone else."

That landed differently.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Isolde studied him with greater care now, as if the boy in front of her had shifted from inconvenience to something requiring reevaluation.

Liam did not press immediately. He let the silence hold, let the statement remain between them. People like Isolde were used to controlling the pace of conversations. They were used to softening the ground beneath others before stepping where they wished. Liam had no interest in letting her make him part of that rhythm.

Eventually, he continued. "Your interest in Sheila is too personal to be student council duty."

Isolde’s expression cooled faintly.

"You asked about her when we first spoke," Liam said. "You compared me to Percy. You wanted to know whether I thought Sheila would succeed him. You have been moving around her since then under a reasonable excuse, but the excuse does not explain the direction of your interest."

Isolde’s voice lowered. "You are assuming a lot."

"Not really."

"Then what are you assuming?"

Liam’s red eyes fixed on her. "This has something to do with Percy."

The coldness that crossed Isolde’s face this time did not vanish as quickly.

It remained for several seconds.

’There she is,’ Liam thought.

Not the student president. Not the approachable upperclassman. Not the calm senior who smiled through everything like nothing could touch her. Just a girl with something bitter lodged beneath her ribs, irritated that someone had named the shape of it aloud.

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