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I rolled my eyes. “He can’t win every round.”

“We both know what you are doing,” Bridger hissed. Three icicles grew within the frost. “This is hardly fair.” He glared at the combat professor, then aimed those three daggers at Damien’s heart.

I clenched my jaw as Damien dodged the ice with a quick shift. “And what is it that I am doing exactly?” He cocked his head to the side .

“You’re a filthy mind reader. Turn off your quell, and let us see how well you fight,” Bridger spat.

Mind reader. Had I heard that right?

Damien mentioned he had two quells. Flame churned in my guts, and I thought I’d hurl ash if I moved. I glanced at Malachi, whispering, “Did you know?”

“We’re allowed secrets, Sev,” she said. “Now you understand why Damien always wins. I’m guessing he pretended to get to know you?”

For a heartbeat, I wondered what Damien knew. But he shrugged at Bridger, not tuned into the tornado of my mind.

“And why would I do that? Your mind is interesting. Fuck, you love replaying that memory of her for me.” Damien hissed and pinned him to the ground with his boot over his throat. “Shall I break your neck? I’m sure the healer is up for a challenge today.”

Bridger spat blood as he sat up. “I’m done. You win this fight.”

A growl released from Damien’s parted grin. “I should drag you to Summer and let you shrivel in the sun.”

Bridger snarled, lashing his hands around Damien’s ankle. “At least I’ve made her scream my name. I should have carved my name into that bitch like your brother did. But you should know I never hurt her.”

Damien took his boot off Bridger’s neck. “But you watched. You allowed someone to torture a student under your mentorship. You enjoyed it.” A tremor ravaged his spine. “Don’t make me regret not killing you today.”

Professor Knight glanced at me. “Your Serpent informed me you’ve inherited a Summer quell. Today is Night versus Summer for first-years.”

I had no time to question as Antonia stepped in front of me.

Three silver daggers sheathed her thighs, including one I recognized on Malachi before.

Her hair was braided back. Shadows followed her quick steps—followed my trail of ash like a phantom ghost stalking my every move, including my courteous bow.

She reminded me of a cat with her slicked hair and feline composure.

Monty yelled, “No quells, first-years.”

She shot a vicious smirk at me, curling her fingers. I felt for my dagger and swung at her side. Ropes of flame twisted inside me, and I swore if she cut me, I’d bleed ash.

I met Archer’s gaze—knuckle under his chin. Eyes watching my every breath.

My hands touched her arm, and she jolted back, curling her bottom lip. “She’s going to burn the fields.” Her finger pointed toward a burnt patch of grass with a charred impression of my boot. Myla flicked her palm barely above her hip, and a hiss of steam sounded from my skin.

Monty called the match. “Severyn, forfeit your dagger to Antonia. The use of quells in your first year is prohibited during combat.”

I didn’t bother asking why. I knew Monty would make up some bullshit reason that our quells were unstable. And perhaps he was right. Maybe I couldn’t control this quell.

I threw her the dagger Charles gave me, and she dragged her finger down the tinted-blue handle. “This shall look lovely with my collection,” she said, placing it into a leather holder as she joined Alaric.

I supposed they were back together.

Combat was over, and I was back on day one—daggerless.

Damien left without me. I ran after him, yanking his elbow. “What the hell was that?” I asked.

“I believe Monty was scolding you for using your quell,” he said sarcastically. I followed him past the infirmary doors and toward the dragon fields .

As spring yielded to summer’s heat, the air grew heavier, pressing against my skin. I tugged off my cardigan, knotting it around my waist.

I turned to Damien, narrowing my eyes. “You can read minds.”

He stiffened, his usual smirk faltering. “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of,” he said smoothly.

“You know exactly what I mean.” I stepped closer, heat rising to my cheeks. “You can read minds, since when?”

“For about six years,” he said. “It’s common in Summer to gain your quell during Harvest Festival.”

I curled my hands into fists, fighting off the ravenous burn in my fingers. “How does it work? Can you read my mind now?”

“Normally, it’s a blur of voices all screaming. Once I know the sounds, I can learn to shift through them. I’ve gotten quite attuned to your sound.” He closed his eyes. “Yes, I can hear your mind right now, Severyn.”

“And are you reading my mind now?” I muttered.

“Not intentionally, but see, we’re conversing, and I hear two of your voices. I never lied. I told you on the first night we met I prefer to keep my quell private. The thing is, Sev, you lied to me today. Quite frankly, you lie a lot.”

My face fell. “I have no idea what I’m doing, Damien.”

He stopped walking and grabbed my wrist. “Do you trust me?”

I stared into his hazel eyes. He looked ashamed, and as my silence screamed back, I couldn’t control the voice in my mind. “If you know everything, you’ll understand how alone I feel right now.”

“Answer my question. Do you trust me?” His hand glided the shaft of my forearm until his fingers curved my neck, my jaw.

I leaned into his touch. “Yes,” I breathed. The first truth to spill beyond my tongue and ink-stained fingers .

I trusted Damien.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He brushed my streak behind my ear. I curled my hands around his jaw, leaning in to kiss him, but he shifted back. “You don’t want to kiss me, Sev. Not now.”

I leaned back on my heel. “I know how I feel, Damien. Do you… not…” I cut my breath off, biting my tongue.

“I’m two things, Severyn. One, I don’t overshare. Two, I don’t believe in fables. This is not the moment for our first kiss. Not when you’ve been in the forests for a night, lying about the most important bond in your life.”

“I’m… sorry.” Flinching, I kept my gaze low. “I should have told you the truth.”

He changed the topic. “Cain’s shield snapped when he felt your quell. The man is a hound for sensing quells and saw something dark in you today. I saw his mind.” A gust of wind hit my face.

“Archer thinks Myla died that day at the trial,” I whispered. “I… saved her. Revived her—I’m still trying to grasp it.”

His hands smothered my lips. “I’m not the only one whose quell can listen to silent conversations. We’ll discuss this later.”

I nodded.