Page 4

CHAPTER THREE

NOVA

D arkness entrenches me, thick as smoke, closing in on me against all sides. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, too loud, too fast. I try to move, but my limbs don’t respond the way they should.

Then the pain starts.

Fire licks up my spine, racing along every nerve, twisting through my muscles like barbed wire. My bones crack. My skin stretches too tight, then rips.

A guttural snarl rips from my throat—except it’s not my voice. It’s something deeper, something feral. No. No, no, no.

I stumble forward, my hands reaching—except they’re not hands anymore. My fingers have shortened, curled, claws replacing nails. Fur spills across my skin like ink soaking through parchment. My breath comes in short, panicked bursts, my senses drowning in a flood of scents too potent, sounds too layered. The world is wrong, distorted.

A reflection stares back at me from the water’s edge.

Blue eyes, too bright. A muzzle where my mouth should be. Ears flattened, fangs bared. A beast. A monster.

Me.

I rear back, a whimper slipping free, but the sound isn’t fae. A wolf’s cry. The thing in the water mimics me, trapped in its own nightmare.

No, no, no.

I slam my hands—my paws—against my head, as if I can claw my way free of this body, tear it away like it’s a disguise. But it’s not.

And I can’t escape.

My attention snags on another wolf beside me, golden eyes, dark blue fur, and a scar on his face.

A haunting, sorrow-filled howl rips through the void, deafening, final ? —

I jolt upright in bed, gasping, drenched in sweat. My heart hammers against my ribs, my breathing rough. The damp sheets tangle around me.

Fang perches at the foot of the bed, her silver-blue eyes fixed on me, her body tense.

My fingers dig into my arms, nails pressing into skin—real, fae skin. My breath shudders out. It was just a dream.

But it didn’t feel like one.

I’m slow to dress for breakfast, still haunted by my nightmare. The unease clings to my skin, something I can't shake, even as I make my way to the commons.

Long, communal tables stretch across the room, their polished surfaces reflecting the floating candles that hover above. The vaulted ceiling, enchanted to resemble the night sky, features twinkling stars in constellations that shift every few moments. The smell of roasted meats, spiced cider, and baked bread fills the room, making my stomach growl.

Students from every corner of the fae realms gather here, their voices too loud, with laughter, arguments, and boasts. A trio of what I think are dragon fae sits near the giant hearth to my left, showing off their scales in the firelight as they roast something skewered on long, iron spikes. They’ve got to be second years—I don’t know many first years who could half-shift like that. A group of pixie-like fae flits between tables, their laughter chiming like tiny bells as they dart in and out of conversations.

Maybe they’re half-shifting like this to find their fellow orders. Most people here are wolf fae, so those who aren’t seem to congregate together.

Per the usual, there’s not really a place for me to fit in.

Along one wall is a giant tack board full of fliers: try-outs for various athletics, advertisements for tutors, off-campus housing options, student organizations, as well as some ominous ones:

Born Fae, True Fae

Our Blood, Our Right

Keep the Line Pure

Lineage is Legacy

Only Blood Holds Power

The Firstborn Rule, The Forged Serve

Heritage. Power. Purity.

And some less ominous, but obviously opposite viewpoints:

Birth Does Not Define Worth

Fae by Fate, Not by Blood

We Were Made Fae—Not Made Less

Faehood Is Fate, Not Fortune

Magic Is Power, Not Pedigree

The words hit harder than they should. I’ve seen them before, scrawled in back alleys, whispered in noble courts, murmured behind polite smiles. But here, on an academy bulletin board, among flyers for study groups and roommate requests?

It’s a statement. A reminder. A threat.

Keep the Line Pure.

I don’t need to wonder what they’d say about me.

Made by a monster.

I shift my focus to the others—the ones who fight back. They should make me feel better. They don’t.

Because the fact that these messages exist at all means the war isn’t over. It never was. It just got better at pretending.

Another flyer catches my eye, as it’s written in big red letters:

SAY NO TO SUPPRESSION

Every month, at least two wolf fae die as a result of suppression drugs taken to reduce the symptoms of the heat cycle. Made fae face a disproportionately higher likelihood of severe reactions.

Before I can let the ominous warning linger too long, Tai draws me away to an empty spot near the far end of one table, his giant, onyx wings drawing a few curious glances as he folds them neatly behind him. It’s almost unheard of for fae to show their wings to anyone other than their mates, unless necessary, such as in flight. And not all fae have wings.

This signals to all that he’s a fae not to be fucked with. Steal a feather from him, and he knows exactly what to do with you. Member of the royal guard, assigned to protect Her Highness. One of the fiercest warriors in all the realms.

He sits with the fluid grace of someone who’s used to being watched, while I drop onto the bench with considerably less elegance.

Sylus strides in moments later, his presence commanding enough to draw attention without effort, and not just because he’s hot. He doesn’t look at me, but the tension in his shoulders suggests he’s acutely aware of my presence. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the table, his jaw tight as he pointedly avoids my gaze.

“So.” I break the silence as I reach for a pitcher of something that smells vaguely like spiced Paduyi trees. “Is this where we all bond over shared trauma and bad food, or…?”

Tai doesn’t answer, but the slight twitch of his lips suggests he’s fighting back a smile. Sylus, on the other hand, glares at me with the kind of intensity that might have been intimidating if I cared even a little.

I grin, pouring myself a drink. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Sylus’s glare slides off me like water on oiled leather. He grabs a loaf of bread from the platter in front of him, tearing into it with enough force to make me wonder if he’s imagining it’s my face.

“You’ve got something on your chin,” I call down the table, voice carrying just enough to get a few heads to turn.

Tai exhales quietly beside me, a sound I suspect is stifled amusement, though his expression stays stoic. Sylus doesn’t dignify me with a response.

His silence is an answer in itself, though it does little to dull the fire behind his eyes. He tears into the bread again, a vein pulsing in his temple. Across the table, a few students exchange amused glances, their stares darting between us like they’re watching the opening act of a play. Or what might become a blood bath.

A warm, whiskey-rich brogue rolls through the din, smooth as fire over stone. “Och, would ye look at that. A proper fae princess, slummin’ it wi’ the likes of us.”

I glance up, a stirring of familiarity sparking inside me, but the unique accent alone isn’t enough to place him, because my memory is shit. Then I spot him—a red-haired male moving toward me with an easy swagger, his grin lazy, but his emerald gaze locked onto me like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Recognition slams into me.

I know him. And fuck, I’m happy to see him here. Deliriously happy.

Broad shoulders, built like a damn tree, quick on his feet despite the solidness of his frame. His hair catches the light like liquid copper, and pale freckles dust his skin—and then there’s the dark, neatly trimmed beard that frames his jaw.

Callum.

The resistance leader my siblings helped rescue from Espero. We got to hang out half the summer, but I wasn’t expecting to see him attending school. Watching him risk his life to lead his fellow humans to safety had immediately drawn me to him. A part of me is surprised he’s here at all; most humans don’t make it out of places like that alive, let alone with enough guts to show up at an academy full of fae.

Maybe the fates don’t entirely hate me, or perhaps they’re rewarding me for showing restraint with Sylus. I could’ve plucked his eyeballs out by now and haven’t. I’m really proud of myself, and they must be, too.

My stomach twists in something dangerously close to relief, though I shove it down before it can take root. Callum doesn’t hesitate, just pulls out the chair beside me and drops into it, his scent hitting me in an instant—earth, salt, and a warm kind of cologne.

Tai stiffens beside me.

Callum notices, and his grin deepens.

The human settles in like he belongs, stretching his arm along the back of my chair, his fingers idly tapping the wood. “Surprise,” he says, a thread of amusement in his voice.

Last time I saw him, he was trying to find his footing in a world that had all but abandoned him. And now he’s here, at a fae academy—the same fae who stole him from Earth. I spent a lot of time around him on Convectus while he worked with my family to help the rescued humans settle—whether that meant finding them homes here or arranging their return to Earth. The last I knew, he was going to go back, too.

The thought tightens something in my chest, but I push it down. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.” I grin. But I’m really, really glad he’s here. And not just because he’s candy for the eyes and ears. Yes, I could listen to his smooth brogue all day, every day … but he helped distract me while I nursed a broken heart.

They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and while I haven’t done that, yet, the odds are in Callum’s favor now.

He lifts a shoulder, reaching for the cider. “Aye, well. They’re teachin’ me a thing or two. Even an old dog can learn new tricks.”

I snort. He’s far from old–we’re physiologically around the same age. Though he might be a year or two older.

Tai doesn’t say anything, but I feel the way he shifts, like he’s bracing for something. He’s not stupid. He knows Callum is flirting. Knows exactly what that slow, easy grin means, especially as he’d been acting that way with me all summer.

Callum, to his credit, doesn’t press his luck—at least not with my guard. He turns his attention back to me, fingers curling lightly over the cup in his hand. “Good to see ye again, though,” he says, voice softer now, a little more genuine. “Really.”

Something in my ribs pulls tight, and I nod, pushing my food around on my plate. “You too.” Little birds take flight in my stomach, threatening to escape so they can land at his feet.

Tai exhales through his nose, like he’s reminding himself not to intervene.

Callum smirks, knocking back his drink before setting it down with a quiet clink. “So. Ye gonna catch me up on all the drama I’ve missed, or am I left to fend for myself?”

The meal carries on in a haze of chatter and magic, as students enter and exit the room, their raucous noise already giving me a headache. Plates refill themselves, and the ceiling transforms into a hypnotizing display of shifting scenes, painting a dreamy, otherworldly light over the room.

It’s only when I glance back at Callum that I realize he’s already watching me. Plastering a smirk on my face, I give him a playful shove.

He’s completely unfazed, leaning in just enough that his words skim the shell of my ear. "Ye keep looking at me like that, Princess, and I might start thinkin’ ye missed me."

I roll my eyes, but the way my lips twitch betrays me. I did. And gods, I love this—his teasing, the easy confidence he wears like a second skin, the way he slips right back into my space like he belongs there.

Because maybe he does.

Tai remains quiet beside me, his attention roving between the room’s occupants like he’s cataloging every potential threat.

Across the room, Sylus finishes his meal in tense silence, occasionally glancing my way when he thinks I’m not looking.

He rises shortly after. Without a word, he stalks toward the doors, the tension in his frame causing people to part in his path.

Tai waits until the room begins to clear before standing. “Ready to go?”

I glance around one last time, taking in the shifting constellations above. This is way nicer than my dorm room. I don’t know why the fuck everything is so bare where we sleep, especially for an academy catering to wolf fae, who are notorious for wanting cozy spots to nest. “Yeah.” I grab my glass for one last swig. “Catch you later.” I smile at Callum.

His grin turns downright wicked as he leans back in his chair, emerald eyes gleaming. “Aye, but if ye keep smilin’ at me like that, I might start thinkin’ ye don’t want to leave.”

I bite my lip until my guard clears his throat and I glance over my shoulder at him.

Tai motions toward the exit, and I push away from the table, the chair scraping as I stand. The warmth of the commons clings to my skin, but the moment we step into the corridor, the cold returns.

The hallway breathes with life, small trails of energy drifting from the veins of enchanted crystal woven into the stone, as though greeting me. A chill seeps from the smooth floors, the temperature barbed as we approach the stairwell.

Tai stops, his posture shifting as he glances toward an alcove ahead. A weak undulation of movement breaks the stillness, and I catch the outline of Sylus’s shoulders before he disappears down another passage. I can tell it’s him by the giant stick up the guy’s butt. And because he’s got shock-white hair.

“I wonder why he’s such a prick?” I mutter, stepping past Tai, who remains quiet, his focus on the corridor beyond.

We continue on our way, the dormitory doors appearing ahead, their carved surfaces etched with runes that ripple as we approach, recognizing that we live here. Magic threads through the patterns like veins, reacting to Tai’s presence as the doors swing open.

Inside, the warmth envelops me, a welcome relief from the chill of the corridors. My attention snaps to Sylus’s side of the room, his belongings neatly arranged in a way that feels calculated, and it sure would suck if someone were to fuck it all up.

Tai settles near the window, his wings folding neatly as he leans against the frame. With a soft flutter, they absorb into his back.

Not only do I not have magic yet, but I don’t have wings, either. Though, with most fae, wings come last. I might be waiting a while.

I drop onto my bed, the coarse blanket scratching against my fingers before lean down to untie my boots. The silence stretches, filled only by the creak of the building and the occasional murmur of voices from the hallway beyond.

“What’s the deal with him?” My words break the quiet, aimed more at the room itself than Tai, though I glance at him as I speak.

And why do I care?

It’s probably because I just don’t like to sit in the quiet. It’s weird. Like I’m crawling out of my skin.

He doesn’t answer right away. His stare remains fixed on the courtyard below, surveying the grounds.

“Not your problem,” he finally says, his tone even, the dismissal clear.

I roll my eyes, tossing one boot onto the floor with a satisfying thud. “Everything’s my problem now. In case you forgot, I’m kind of the ‘High Princess’ everyone won’t shut up about.”

He doesn’t move, but the merest twitch of his shoulders betrays his thoughts.

I lean back against the headboard, the chill of the wood seeping through the thin pillow propped there. My eyes drift to the lantern hanging above. “He’s going to be a problem.”

Tai turns, his attention shifting to me fully. “Not if you stop poking at him.”

Where’s the fun in that? Ignoring his advice, I stare up at the ceiling. “What time is the tour?” Maybe I can sneak in a nap before then.

“Noon,” he grunts.

My phone vibrates with text after text, and I pull it out of the charger on my nightstand to look. It’s our family’s group chat.

Mom

Good luck tomorrow! We miss you so much

Casimir

Proud of you kiddo

Oz

Who are your roommates?

Bennett

You remember to bring that knife I made you?

Gideon

They better not have paired you with any male roommates

Grimm

Where is Tai staying?

Penn

Let us know if you run into any trouble

Rose

So excited for you! The guys say hi and good luck! xoxo

I sigh, tossing my phone aside without replying.

"They mean well," Tai says softly, his sight landing on my discarded phone.

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, well, good intentions don't make this any easier." I don’t want to fucking be here at all. Four times in the week leading up to my departure here, I’d ran off, desperate to escape this fate. Each time, Tai dragged me back by tossing me over his shoulder.

I prop my elbows on the bed, watching as he unpacks his things, putting everything in its place with the same precision and care he always exhibits. Weapons first, of course—daggers, throwing stars, and a small, carved blade that glows softly— hey wait! That’s the blade I nicked off of him. When the hell did he get it back?

As though he can tell I’m staring, he glances over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corners of his infuriating mouth. “Looking for something?”

“When?” I try to keep my tone casual, but fail.

“When, what?” He raises a brow, continuing unpacking. He folds his clothes then sets down a few books.

“When did you take it back?” I shoot him a pointed glare, nodding toward the glowing dagger now resting on his nightstand. It looks smug just sitting there, mocking me for thinking I could outsmart Tai.

His grin deepens, and he doesn’t bother looking up. Fuck him for being so hot. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

I huff, crossing my arms. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The dagger. The one I took from you yesterday."

Tai finally looks up, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, that. I took it back while you were showering last night.”

My face flushes with heat. “How? I had it in my pocket! In the bathroom!”

He levels me with a look I can’t decipher, so when he finally speaks, I stare at him in stunned silence. “Let’s not pretend we haven’t been far closer and more personal than that, Princess.” His voice drops, the words laced with that infuriating edge of teasing heat that only an incubus fae could manage, the kind that furls low in my stomach. “If I wanted it back, I was always going to get it back.”

“So, you do remember,” I say dryly, once I’ve finally recovered.

His expression shifts, the amusement fading into something more guarded. “Nova …” He pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. “What happened in Espero was … complicated.”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off before he can say anything else. "Don't. Don’t give me the 'it was complicated' speech. I know what it was, asshole. A distraction. A performance." My voice is harsher than I intend, but I don’t bother softening it.

What a grand fucking performance it was, too. Glad he enjoyed it, because there will never be another one.