Page 16

As she turns to follow the steward, Academy lights illuminate a strange shimmer behind her ear—a magical resonance that shouldn’t exist on a human. Something ancient stirs in my memory from texts dating before the court divisions.

She scans the towers, gaze passing over my hidden position. Then she stiffens, head snapping back to stare directly at where I stand cloaked in shadows.

She stares at my hiding spot.Impossible. Humans can’t see through shadows. My heart skips. The Spear burns hotter.

For a heartbeat, I swear I see green-white light hovering near her shoulder—a will-o’-wisp that shouldn’t exist. Before I can focus, it vanishes.

For three heartbeats, we lock gazes across an impossible distance. Something primitive in my chest answers her call—recognition bypassing three centuries of learned control. My carefully controlled heart stutters, missing beats while something feral claws up my spine.

Her expression shifts—confusion giving way to something fiercer. More primal. Her lips part slightly, and I find myself leaning forward, shadows swirling in response to sudden, unexpected interest.

Then the steward approaches, breaking the moment. She turns away, composure resettled like armor. But I’ve seen beneath it now. Seen the wildness that flashed across her face. The recognition that should not exist.

My father’s warning echoes:The Balance must be protected.

And yet, I find myself wondering if preserving the Balance is worth letting something this interesting slip away.

As I watch this impossible woman enter our domain, something in my chest purrs at the thought of hunting her. Testing her. Finding her breaking point. The kind of hunger that killed cats and overthrew princes. The kind I haven’t felt since before father taught me the price of wanting things I couldn’t have.

“Welcome to the Velasca Academy, Specialist Morgan,” I murmur, knowing she can’t hear me. “I hope you survive the experience. At least until I figure out exactly what you are.”

And I’m already addicted to whatever this is.

Inconvenient, I note with clinical detachment.Remarkably fucking inconvenient.

The realization should terrify me.

Instead, it brings the first genuine smile I’ve worn in decades.

4

ASH

Technology dies first.

The GPS screen cracks down the middle. Numbers bleed into pixels. My phone shows no signal—not low bars, nothing. Like we’ve driven off the edge of the world.

The driver—Jason—slams his palm against the screen, once, twice, each impact sharper than the last. A vein pulses at his temple.

“Always happens here,” he mutters, fingers fumbling for an old-fashioned compass that instantly spins wildly, as if drunk on magnetic confusion. “We’re close.”

“Close to what, exactly?” The question emerges sharper than intended.

Instead of answering he glances at me in the rearview mirror.

“How much further?” The words scrape my dry throat.

Jason’s hands shake on the wheel. Sweat through his shirt despite the cold. He’s seen things. Things that don’t leave you unchanged.

“Should be another twenty minutes to the drop-off point.” His voice cracks on the last word. “Academy’s beyond that, but they don’t let vehicles approach directly.”

His knuckles bulge white beneath skin stretched too tight across bone as he grips the steering wheel. Fear radiates from him in waves—his pulse hammering at his throat, his pupils become black holes against shrinking irises.

I’ve watched men face firefights with steadier hands.

“Security protocols or something more interesting?” I keep my voice casual, probing.

“More interesting.” His laugh is bitter.