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CHAPTER ONE

NOVA

T he Fates have apparently decided this is where I’m supposed to be. The Fates clearly hate me.

The wind whips through my hair, setting clumps of it free from its ponytail and blocking my view of the colossal mountains behind Moonfire Academy. Tucking my tresses into my coat, I focus on the palatial courtyard and get a good look at the absolute clusterfuck unfolding in front of me. Students mill about in packs, some huddling together for warmth—I imagine those are ones who either have no magic, or don’t know how to do the warming spell yet—others are just laughing like they’re oblivious to the frigid air and mounds of snow on the sidewalks.

I stand at the edge of the crowd, a leather duffel slung over my shoulder, my breath curling in frosty wisps as I take it all in. A wave of warmth gathers at my back, and if I wasn’t frozen to the bone, I’d shove my personal guard and his well-meaning spell away. The students around me shuffle about and drone on with their incessant chatter, their boots crunching against the icy ground, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Somewhere amid this throng is Fang, probably nestled in someone’s bag, her tiny claws scratching at the fabric as she hunts for snacks she has no business finding.

Fang, my snowfurl, looks like a cross between a rabbit and a fawn, her iridescent fur shifting between silver and glacial blue. Tiny, spiraling horns crown her head, and her dark, star-flecked eyes gleam with endless mischief.

Just a few minutes ago, she was curled against my ankle. She’s probably wreaking havoc right now, charming someone into sharing a pastry or causing some poor human to panic at the sight of her otherworldly glow. Or she’s invisible entirely. Typical.

She drives my personal guard, Tai Ashlock, nuts, often slipping into her ghost form, or whatever you call it when she disappears, and curling around his ankles when he’s trying to walk.

Tai is tattooed, devastatingly hot, an extraordinary kisser—and completely off-limits.

He lingers a step behind me, my ever-present shadow, his scrutiny sweeping over the restless mob with the precision of someone trained to anticipate trouble. His presence would almost be comforting if he weren’t so infuriatingly professional all the time.

Sure, he probably doesn’t know he was my very first kiss , but he could at least act like he isn’t just my personal guard.

Despite being in civilian attire, it's not hard to recognize who he is or why he’s here, especially when he’s paired with me. He wears dark, fitted jeans—though they could just be tight because of his large thighs, and a pale gray pullover with rolled-up sleeves that show off his red, black, and white tattooed forearms. His white leather sneakers complete the casual look. No coat because he’s got magic to warm him.

Tai also doesn’t have his usual blade tucked into his belt. I know this, because I’ve already pilfered it. He’s still armed to the teeth, but I liked this one because it has a luster along the edge, as though it’s always catching the light, even when there isn’t any. The blade feels heavier than I expected in the hidden pocket of my hoodie. Not that I’m planning to need it today, but with my luck, ‘planning’ rarely lines up with reality.

“Well,” I mutter under my breath, “looks like a proper fae welcome.”

Ahead, towering gates carved with baroque symbols of wolf fae hierarchy glitter in the pale, overcast light, a heavy coat of frost on the front of it. Alphas at the top, betas and omegas beneath them. I roll my eyes and adjust the strap on my bag. Typical.

It’s not like any of the other fae orders have this hierarchy.

What the sign doesn’t say is there’s another sub-set within it—made fae, and fae born.

To many at this school, fae born are better than fae who were made. Which paints a giant target on my back.

They know who I am. Every single one of them.

The moment I stepped onto campus, I felt the weight of their stares, their whispered speculations. Not just because I’m the High Queen’s daughter, but because of what my mother did —shattering an ancient curse and turning former werewolves into wolf fae. This gave them magic, but also made them less in the eyes of those who’d been born with their power.

And now, I get to spend the next two years surrounded by the people who resent her for it.

Some were thrilled, because now they have magic, which is exactly what my biological father wanted for his people.

Others, like the scowling group of students I spot near the entrance, clearly resent the change. Their ears are pointed and bodies lithe like all fae, but there's a feral edge to their movements, a hint of the wolf just idling beneath the surface, rather than quietly tucked away until needed.

I swallow hard, my stomach twisting.

It could be me.

Any moment now, my magic will come in, and I’ll know. If I’m anything like him … I’d rather let it kill me first.

I shove the thought away before it can take root. I’m not a wolf fae. I can’t be. The fates would never be so cruel as to turn me into a reminder of the monster who made me.

When they were just werewolves, they lived their lives mostly human, but turned once a month during Earth’s full moon.

Now, they’re all out of balance, dealing with powerful magic they’d spent their entire lives without, and everyone knows my mom is why. People are pissed on both sides of the aisle, so I’m going to have to get used to the glares and snide comments. Royal children usually wear glamours, but I fucked up this summer, so everyone knows my face.

I might’ve made a few headlines when I stabbed a paparazzi with a fork at a ball my mom and dads threw at Convectus Castle just before I’d left for college. In my defense, he was trying to sneak into my royal quarters.

“Your Highness,” Tai whispers, just for my ears, the tone seductive without even trying.

Fucking incubus fae.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap.

He doesn’t respond, but I can feel his smirk without even turning around. It’s like a warm caress against the back of my neck.

A horn blares, the sound loud enough to make me flinch, and the crowd shifts like a restless herd of caspari . Lines form—loose and disorganized, of course—snaking toward the academy’s entrance. No one seems to notice the subtle shift in the air as the wards around the entrance activate, rippling like reverberations in a still pond.

Perhaps because I have no magic, I’m attuned when I feel it. I’ve used plenty of charms before, easily activated by whispering a few words, though I had to buy those, of course.

Gothic towers rise like stone giants, their snow-dusted spires stabbing at the gray sky like they’re angry about being built in this frozen wasteland, surrounded by mountains on all sides. White ivy clings to the walls, a pale, ghostly disparity to the dark granite, as if the building itself is alive. Not a warm and welcoming kind of alive—more of a watch-your-back kind.

The main doors, massive slabs of wrought iron, stand wide open, their baroque carvings eddying like dark veins. Inside, pale rays of light catch my eye. Fae lanterns float in the foyer, their pale glow doing nothing to hide the fact that this place looks like the set of an ice villain’s lair.

I tighten my grip on the leather strap of my duffel and resist the urge to scowl. “Welcome to Moonfire Academy,” I mutter under my breath. “Where even the architecture wants to kill you.”

A fae shoves past me without so much as a glance, jostling my bag in the process. I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to retaliate—barely. This crowd’s already a disaster, and I don’t need to add my name to the chaos before we’ve even stepped inside.

I promised myself I wouldn’t get kicked out today.

A staff member in a sleek indigo uniform steps forward, her silver hair pulled into a tight braid. “First-years,” she announces, her speech rising above the din. “Form your groups. The main hall will have dorm assignments and orientation schedules for you. Move along.”

The crowd funnels forward, and I feel Tai shift closer behind me.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” I snap, though I don’t slow my pace.

“Noted.” And yet, there he is, still trailing me like a second shadow.

Why won’t he acknowledge there was something in that kiss we had to fake to get us out of trouble in Espero?

He’d spent all summer acting like it never happened, that he didn’t get hard when we were trapped in a closet, pressed against each other. I shake off the memory, careful not to feed this asshole any more lust than he deserves.

The main hall is breathtaking, though I’d rather die than admit it aloud. The vaulted ceilings are painted with scenes of ancient fae history—some I recognize, some I don’t care enough to study. Tables line the walls, each manned by students or staff handing out packets and keys. The scent of fresh parchment mingles with the zing of magic.

I may not have any of my own yet, but I can sure smell it when it’s used. It’s the same scent of ozone that lingers after lightning strikes, blended with something earthy and wild. It’s everywhere here, seeping from the very stones of the academy, pouring off the students and staff alike.

I approach the closest table, where a bored-looking fae with cobalt blue hair and an elaborate set of antlers glances up from his clipboard. Fae don’t usually half-shift like this because it takes a lot of concentration. It’s a flex if I ever saw one. His eyes narrow as he takes me in. It’s the same look everyone gives me—that they know my face from somewhere but can’t quite place it.

“Name?” he asks, his tone clipped.

“Novaleigh Drake.” I force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

The reaction is immediate. His nose wrinkles, and his scrutiny flits to Tai before returning to me. Troublemaker , his expression says without him uttering a word.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ve all seen the headlines.

High Princess Novaleigh: Like Father, Like Daughter?

See, this one just pissed me the fuck off. My real father was the King of Werewolves when he held my mom captive, and that’s how I came to be. Apparently, he’s a real asshole, but he’s turning his life around now that he’s a mortal living on Earth.

Royal Rebel Strikes Again.

I have issue with this one, too. They’ve never caught me doing anything else, so what do they mean by ‘again’?

Feral High Princess Attacks Innocent Journalist.

Maybe said journalist shouldn’t have been barging into bedrooms, thinking they’re unoccupied, so he can snoop?

Royal Brat Unfit for Throne?

As if I want it. Bennett—my big brother—can have it.

I lean forward, propping an elbow on the table. “You know, if you stare any harder, your eyeballs might get plucked out. Should I fetch a healer?”

His lips press into a thin line, and he thrusts a folded piece of paper at me. “Your room is in Nocturne Hall. Third floor, west wing.”

I snatch the paper and turn on my heel, already moving toward the stairs. Tai keeps pace effortlessly.

“Friendly place,” I mutter.

“You’re making quite the impression,” he says dryly.

The dormitory wing is quieter, though the hum of voices and occasional bursts of laughter drift from behind closed doors. I scan the paper as I walk, noting the co-ed arrangement and the handful of names listed beneath mine.

Three males.

No females.

Zero complaints there—except for the fact that one of them is Tai.

I hesitate, my grip tightening on the paper. The thought of sharing a space with him until my magic comes in—after everything—sits uneasily inside me. He spent all summer pretending nothing happened, that my first kiss meant nothing, and now we’re supposed to exist in the same four walls as if we’re just a guard and his charge?

I shove the thought away and keep walking. It doesn’t matter. It can’t. He doesn’t want me, and I have to be okay with that. “Well,” I stuff the paper into my pocket, “at least I don’t have to worry about anyone stealing my clothes.”

I’m not one to stay up all night chatting about boys, doing my hair, or wearing lots of makeup.

No offense to those that like that, but I’d rather spend my nights sharpening blades or scouring old texts for ways to fix my glaring lack of magic. Maybe that’s why I’ve always gotten along better with guys—less pretense, fewer rules, and no one asking me to braid their hair.

Though I have a soft spot for Bee, my little sister. I’ll braid her hair … if I ever figure out how to.

Tai doesn’t comment, though I catch the faintest twitch of his lips.

Holding up the slip of paper with my room number on it, I compare it to the door we’ve stopped in front of. Number 88.

I’d make a joke about how this is way better than the number sixty-nine because you get ate twice, but Tai and I aren’t there anymore. Not since he’s completely given me the cold shoulder.

The iris scanner requires me to fully face the camera, so I stand there and wait while it recognizes me as an occupant of this dorm. A quiet clicking sound of the lock disengaging meets my ears, and I turn the handle and push the door open with a creak.

The room is ... fine. Functional. Four beds, each with a plain desk and wardrobe. The walls are a dull gray stone, and the lone window overlooks the snow-covered courtyard.

You’d think with how beautiful the architecture is at the school, that the dorm rooms would be less utilitarian.

Not so.

The room has a musty smell, as if it's been closed up for a while. But there’s also a hint of fresh snow in the air. I also detect something like a smoky cedar.

I claim the bed nearest the window, tossing my duffel onto the mattress. Tai leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, as if daring me to object to his presence. When I say nothing, he speaks.

“I’m going to go grab the rest of your boxes. Don’t go anywhere.”

I roll my eyes, but say nothing as he makes his exit. Plopping down onto the bed, I scan my surroundings.

There is zero life to the room. No personal touches or decorations, no cozy pillows or soft blankets, no warmth. I’ll need to decorate.

Before I can even snoop, the door swings open, and a tall, broad-shouldered fae strides in, his super white hair swept back behind pointy ears and his amber eyes sharp as a griffin’s. Handsome, in a, I’ll fuck you into the floor, ruin your life, and you’ll thank me for it , kind of way.

Well, hello there, hormones.

“Hi,” I offer.

I think I might like school after all.