I was released from the medical wing the next afternoon with strict instructions to rest and avoid stress—advice that seemed impossible to follow at Ashwick Academy, where stress was basically a required course. Alexander had insisted on escorting me back to my dorm, his protective presence both comforting and slightly overwhelming.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I said as we walked through the main quad, acutely aware of the stares and whispers following our movement.
“I’m not babysitting. I’m ensuring your continued safety in an environment where people apparently think drugging pharmaceutical heiresses is acceptable behavior.”
His jaw was still tight with fury about Julian’s actions, and I could see him scanning every face we passed like he was looking for potential threats. The pro
