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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

TAI

I never get much free time, so when Nova takes off for a run as her wolf as a last-ditch effort to become one with her magic before finals, I decide to indulge in a rare moment for myself. Our dorm room is still, the only movement coming from the lazy swirl of dust motes near the lamp. I know she’ll be gone for a while.

I put on some low music from my phone and settle on the floor. There’s a little stack of carving tools I’ve been collecting since forever, tucked into a pouch I keep under my bed. Whittling was one of the few hobbies I inherited from my mom—a witch notorious for sweet-talking her way out of every situation. A pang of grief hits me at her memory. How I’d sit on the little footstool in front of her while she carved and carved and carved. For months, I watched her do this until she grew too weak to do it, so that’s when I picked up the tools and helped.

Cancer took her from me before I’d even matured. As a second-generation Bedlamite born on Sundahlia, she had no immunity to the diseases that still plagued humans, and I hadn’t been able to get my head around that at the time.

Carving helped me focus on something real, something that didn’t rely on what I am, how I feed my magic, or the battles I’ve fought. I haven’t touched these tools since I arrived on campus, but tonight feels like a good time to remind myself who I am.

I fold my legs beneath me and pick up a small block of pine. The surface is smooth, but the wood’s aroma reminds me of the forests I used to patrol back home on Occasus. With careful pressure, I guide the tip of the carving knife along an outline, wincing when I dig a little deeper than I’d like. My focus narrows to the soft scraping sounds as slivers fall away. There’s an almost meditative quality to this—control in each movement, the texture under my fingertips. For a short while, I can almost pretend all is right with the world as I carve a small wolf that fits in the palm of my hand.

Then my phone buzzes.

At first, I ignore it. But the second vibration makes me pause, heart stuttering. My phone rarely goes off twice unless it’s important—or trouble. This signals a message sent with high priority. Setting the carving aside, I swipe my screen to check the notification.

An email from the Royal Guard.

My stomach drops, twisting into an ugly knot. The subject line reads: Reassignment Notice: 30 Days.

I can’t help the hiss that escapes my lips as my chest constricts. For a moment, I just stare, pulse echoing in my ears. A metallic tang fills my mouth, like tasting coins, and my skin prickles cold. With numb fingers, I open the email.

From : Royal Guard Personnel Office

To : Tai Ashlock

Subject : Reassignment Notice: 30 Days

Dear Guardsman Ashlock,

We hope this message finds you well. Per your contract, you have been assigned to Novaleigh Drake until she has successfully manifested and gained control of her fae magic.

According to our records, Miss Drake has met her minimum viable threshold for full magic emergence and will complete the associated tests administered by the Academy at semester’s end. Therefore, your current assignment is scheduled to end in 30 days from the date of this email. You will receive further instructions regarding a new assignment upon final review.

Thank you for your service and dedication. If you have any questions, please contact the Personnel Office.

Sincerely,

Staff Sergeant Orinda Fellweather

Royal Guard, Personnel Division

The lines stare back at me, far too plain for the devastation they bring. My mission was always clear: guard Nova until her magic stabilized. And now it’s stabilized—at least on paper. They’re convinced she’s strong enough to handle herself. Which means, in one short month, I’ll have to leave her behind.

The phone trembles in my grip. Pressure builds with each hammering pulse. Leaving her is the last thing I want. I’ve tasted what it’s like to be close to her—truly close—and I can’t imagine walking away. Before, it was just a job. A life of constant watchfulness, ensuring the princess stayed alive. But now … we’ve shared a bed, shared those quiet moments where there was no line between duty and wanting.

I swallow hard and stand, pacing across the worn rug. The friction beneath my bare feet does nothing to calm me. A breeze drifts in through the cracked window, bringing the scent of pine and snow from outside. It reminds me of Nova in her wolf form, how she seems to glow with that new power coursing through her.

How could the Guard possibly think she’s safe without me?

And how could I ever think of going?

Each breath feels harder than the last. I grip the back of my chair, trying to steady myself, but it just makes the dread sink deeper in my gut. I can almost hear Nova laughing at me as she would if she could see me now: her personal guard, pacing like a caged animal. But she’s not here to tease me. She’s out there, doing her run, thinking everything is normal. And in thirty days, I’ll be forced to vanish from her life unless I figure out a way to stay.

My eyes drift to the whittling tools on the floor, the half-shaped piece of pine lying forgotten. I should get back to it, distract myself from the soul-crushing agony of knowing I’m going to have to leave the only person that matters to me. Instead, I reach for my phone again, reading and re-reading the email until the words blur. A wave of anger flares up. I want to argue with them, demand they let me remain at the Academy, but I know how the Royal Guard works—paperwork, formalities, and an ironclad chain of command.

She deserves to know, but tonight isn’t the time. She’s got her own challenges to face if she wants to pass her classes. The last thing I need is to pile more stress onto her. If I told her now, she’d probably stalk off the mountain to storm the Guard HQ, or worse, get her family involved. That’s if her wolf side didn’t decide to tear me apart for daring to hide this in the first place.

So I’ll wait. I’ll figure out a plan. I settle on the edge of the bed, and the thin mattress creaks under my weight. The hush of the empty dorm rings in my ears. I swipe the phone off again, letting it drop onto the pillow. Then I cross the room to grab the carving knife, forcing my attention back to the pine block. My grip is too tight, though, and the next cut nearly nicks my palm.

My mind won’t stop spinning: What if I can’t stay? What if I do, and her brother drives an even bigger wedge between us than he’s already done?

Time feels slippery, a countdown ticking faster than I can control. Thirty days. Just enough space to concoct a plan—or watch everything I care about slip from my grasp.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I make a vow I can’t fully articulate yet. One way or another, I refuse to lose her. With a shaky breath, I drag the knife down the wood, letting the shavings curl onto the floor. It’s the only thing I can do right now: steady myself and prepare for whatever comes next.