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"Strange how?"Rose asked, wringing water from her braid.

Levi glanced over his shoulder, ensuring Roran was still out of earshot."His maneuver near the rocks – I’m pretty sure that's an Isle Warden technique."

“What are you talking about?"

"My father was in the Coastal Guard," Levi explained, his eyes grave."Isle Wardens stir the currents with their tempests, then cut through the storm-churned waters while their enemies flounder.It's how they slip past port defenses."He nodded in Roran's direction."What he did back there — that's not something a merchant's son should know."

Thalia opened her mouth to defend Roran, then closed it.She recalled his precise commands, the unfamiliar terminology, the way he'd read the water as if he'd been born to it.

"But he hates the Isle Wardens," Rose interjected."Everyone knows he lost family in a raid.”

"So he says," Levi replied.

They fell silent as Roran jogged back to them, slightly winded but smiling."They're sorted now.Shall we continue?"

As they hoisted the raft once more, Thalia found herself studying Roran's profile, searching for...what?Deception?Danger?She thought of his easy smile, his encouraging words during her failed cryomancy attempts, the natural leadership he'd displayed today.

The raft felt heavier on her shoulders as they continued upriver, and not just from the physical exertion.The seed of doubt Levi had planted took root, growing with each step, each glance at Roran's confident form leading the way.

Who are you really?And what are you doing at Frostforge?

***

Thalia fell onto her bed with such force that the thin mattress protested beneath her weight.Every muscle in her body screamed — from her shoulders carrying the waterlogged raft for miles, to her palms rubbed raw from paddling, to her legs that trembled even now from the uphill trek.The dormitory's stone walls held the day's chill, unmoved by the weak sunlight filtering through the narrow window.She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of complete stillness, her wet hair splayed across the pillow like spilled ink.

The silence of the room pressed against her ears after hours filled with the roar of rapids and Maven's cutting commands.Luna and Ashe were absent, likely still in their own classes, or perhaps in the dining hall if they'd been fortunate enough to finish early.Thalia envied them the luxury of food and rest, her own stomach a hollow pit beneath her aching ribs.

She raised a hand to push damp strands of hair from her face, wincing as her muscles protested the simple movement.Her fingertips were wrinkled from prolonged exposure to the icy water, the skin around her nails split in places where she'd gripped the paddle with desperate strength.Salt crystals had formed along her forearms where the fjord water had dried — a reminder that the glacial river eventually met the unforgiving sea, just as all the students at Frostforge would eventually face the Isle Wardens.

The Isle Wardens.Roran.The memory of Levi's words sent a fresh wave of unease through her exhausted body.

An Isle Warden technique.That’s not something a merchant’s son should know.

She pushed the thought away, too tired to unravel that particular knot now.Too tired to do anything but lie here and—

Thalia's eyes snapped to the ancient clock mounted on the wall near the door.The brass hands showed fourteen minutes past the hour.Cryomancy began at half past.

"No," she groaned, the word muffled by her pillow.Her body begged her to stay horizontal, to surrender to the exhaustion that had settled into her bones like frost on a window pane.

With a supreme effort, Thalia pushed herself upright.The room tilted sickeningly before settling back into place.Her wet clothing clung to her skin, a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the ordeal she'd just survived.She had only moments to change and gather her supplies; if she wasn’t punctual, she’d run afoul of the instructors, who always emphasized prompt arrival and militant bearing.

On unsteady legs, Thalia crossed to the wardrobe she shared with Luna.Their few belongings hung side by side — Luna's carefully pressed coats, Thalia's more modest collection of clothing, much of it secondhand.She peeled off her sodden outer layers, exchanging them for the dry uniform required for indoor classes: a high-collared shirt and fitted pants.

The clock's hands moved relentlessly forward.Thalia gathered her cryomancy textbook and notebook, shoving them into her leather satchel.All she needed now were her frost gloves, the specialized equipment necessary for manipulating ice magic without frostbite.

The gloves lay on the small table beside her bed where she'd left them after the first disastrous lesson two days prior.Even now, the memory of her failure stung.Only Roran's encouragement after class, and her newly discovered talent for metallurgy, had prevented her from sinking into complete despair.

She reached for the gloves, noting absently that they seemed slightly out of position from where she'd placed them.Perhaps Luna had bumped the table while retrieving something of her own.Thalia picked them up, prepared to tug them on and rush to class; then she stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

Something wasn't right.

As she turned them over in her hands, she noticed anomalies that sent a chill through her veins.The stitching along the right palm — normally tight and uniform — had been loosened, the thread fraying in places where it remained intact.Small punctures dotted the thumb and forefinger of the left glove.

These weren't the marks of normal wear and tear, and the gloves had been brand new when Varik had handed them out.

She examined the gloves more closely, turning them inside out to reveal further damage.The interior lining, embedded with runic symbols that helped channel cryomantic energy, had been scratched in key places.The runes for "protection" and "conduct" were partially obscured, their delicate lines interrupted.

"Who would..."she whispered to the empty room, the words dying on her lips as implications cascaded through her mind.