Houses Trilogy

The Originals of Grimm Academy Standalone Box Set Books 1-3

Lyra Forger

Houses Trilogy

The Originals of Grimm Academy series

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Edition 2024

Cover design: Artscandare

Copyright © 2024 Storycraft OÜ

Hey gorgeous! Before you dive into the pages of these tantalising books, I've got a little heads-up for you. These books are like a hot chili pepper—full of spice and heat. So, if you're not up for some steamy scenes and mature content, you might want to reconsider.

I've been told that the books almost don't need a trigger warning, but just in case, here's the lowdown on what you're in for:

Steamy sex scenes

Grown-up themes

A sprinkle of strong language and adult content

Depictions of emotional abuse

Moments of nudity and sexual tension

Hints of BDSM and kink

Blood and violence (though nothing over the top)

So, if you're ready for an adventure that's hotter than hot, pour yourself a glass of wine, get cozy, and buckle up for a journey into a world filled with passion and excitement.

This book isn't for the faint of heart, but if you like it sizzling, it's the perfect read for you!

Contents

Prologue

House of Ydril

House of Lycan

House of Lilith

Prologue

Once upon a time, the world was divided into two distinct groups: the Scions, ordinary humans who roamed the earth with dreams and ambitions, and the Originals—vampires, shifters, and fae, beings of magic and mystery.

For millennia, the lands were fraught with tension and strife, as humans and Originals clashed in conflicts that echoed through the ages. The Originals were powerful, but few, and the Scions were thrifty and numerous. Shadows stretching across their lands, the Originals went into hiding, and gradually, Scions forgot of their existence. But the Originals had always been here, hidden in plain sight - in forests, in villages, on thrones.

When conflict began brewing anew, the Brothers Grimm, wielders of ancient tales, penned The Treaty—a simple yet binding pact between Scions and Originals. The Treaty's essence: coexistence. Originals, once shadows among humans, emerged from the cloak of secrecy. 

The Treaty decreed that both Scions and Originals would coexist, each within their own social order. The Originals, rulers of the supernatural, found their place in the intricate tapestry of society. Humans, in turn, retained their world, governed by their own customs and rules. A crucial stipulation of The Treaty, however, mandated that all Originals must attend academies, institutions where they would learn the delicate art of balancing power and responsibility.

In the heart of Germany, Grimm Academy rose. Atop an ancient Originals' underground castle, a place pulsing with potent magic, the Brothers Grimm laid the foundations. Above ground, three magnificent towers, one for each Original bloodline, blended seamlessly with the ancient foundations underneath, a testament to a realm where reality and enchantment intertwined. Known by an ancient name, whispered in the wind, it was The Castle That Isn't—a name echoing the mysteries buried underground, within its unknown walls.

Grimm Academy, shrouded in a mystic ambiance, transcends the mundane. Midnight carries with it the hushed rustle of unseen spirits, shadows assume a life of their own, and secrets are woven into the very fabric of existence.

Vampire.

Shifter.

Fae.

Welcome to Grimm Academy.

Contents

1. Chapter 1 - Quinn

2. Chapter 2 - Quinn

3. Chapter 3 - Quinn

4. Chapter 4 - Quinn

5. Chapter 5 - Quinn

6. Chapter 6 - Quinn

7. Chapter 7 - Quinn

8. Chapter 8 - Quinn

9. Chapter 9 - Quinn

10. Chapter 10 - Quinn

11. Chapter 11 - Quinn

12. Chapter 12 - Quinn

13. Chapter 13 - Quinn

14. Chapter 14 - Quinn

15. Chapter 15 - Quinn

16. Chapter 16 - Quinn

17. Chapter 17 - Quinn

18. Chapter 18 - Quinn

19. Chapter 19 - Quinn

20. Chapter 20 - Quinn

21. Chapter 21 - Quinn

22. Chapter 22 - Quinn

23. Chapter 23 - Quinn

24. Chapter 24 - Faust

25. Chapter 25 - Quinn

26. Chapter 26 - Quinn

27. Chapter 27 - Quinn

28. Chapter 28 - Quinn

29. Chapter 29 - Quinn

30. Chapter 30 - Faust

31. Chapter 31 - Quinn

32. Chapter 32 - Quinn

33. Chapter 33 - Faust

34. Chapter 34 - Quinn

35. Chapter 35 - Quinn

36. Chapter 36 - Quinn

37. Chapter 37 - Quinn

38. Chapter 38 - Quinn

39. Chapter 39 - Faust

40. Chapter 40 - Quinn

41. Chapter 41 - Quinn

42. Chapter 42 - Quinn

Chapter 1 - Quinn

With a pleasant buzz on, I start elbowing my way back from the bar with two beers in my hands, when I spot that strange woman’s eyes following me from one of the shadowy corners.

Just like the first time, the look and the smirk make me frown, but I keep going, aiming for the spot where Lisa is waiting for me with as much accuracy as the dim lights, the crowd and my own state will allow me. All the while, the image of the woman lingers in my mind — impossibly white skin, black eyes and hooded black cloak, but she’s not exactly standing out from the regular Noxus crowd. Still, she’s observing me, and something’s telling me she’s not human. And I get this urge to talk about it, but as I approach our table, I decide not to even mention it to Lisa. I don’t need anyone to watch over me. Never have, never will. So why worry her?

Still, as I hand my scrawny but wiry blonde friend the beer, I can’t help but ask, “Seen any Originals lately?” I wiggle my way into my seat, watching her eyebrows shoot up.

“In this godforsaken town?” she says with a chuckle and takes a swig. “I think you’d first have to put guns to their heads.” She frowns. “Why?”

“Just something I heard on the news,” I reply with a wave of my hand, shifting in my seat and hooking the soles of my boots onto the metal bar below. “A couple of instances of them showing up in all-human communities.” I pause before I add, “Breaking the Treaty.”

I notice the flash of fear in her eyes. It’s followed by a second of silence. “Even if that were true, I can’t see them coming here,” she replies in a small voice, signaling to me that she doesn’t want to get into it.

It doesn’t surprise me. After all, as humans, we’re sharing this world with vampires, faes and shifters — three races immensely more powerful than we are, and while they mostly seem to be minding their own business — living in their own communities, working in their own institutions, watching their own TV channels — there’s still the fact that, if they wanted to hurt or even obliterate us… What could stop them? The Treaty? Sure, it prescribes severe punishments for any Original hurting a human, but then again, it’s not like laws are never broken. So, seeing the discomfort on Lisa’s face just makes me feel sorry for even bringing it up.

I decide to change the subject, dismissing my ruminations about the woman in black and going back to the story Lisa was telling me before I went to get more beer. “So?” I drawl with a smile. “How did the fight end?” I ask, referring to Charlie and Zoey, the little boy and girl from the shelter we’re both working in. “Did they make up?”

I see the tension leave her body. She chuckles, shaking her head. “Less than five minutes after you left, I kid you not, they were already in their jammies, making up a story about some evil bunny overlord.”

It makes me laugh, the image her words evoke. “Charlie is the best. Such imagination in such a small kid.”

She leans in with a chuckle, as if she’s just remembered something. “You know what he told me?”

Curious, I tip my head back a little to nudge her to speak.

She tries to imitate his cute little voice. “You have the most prettiest curly brown hair and the most prettiest smile, and when he grows up, he’s going to marry you.”

We both laugh.

“There, just so you know you’ll need to start planning a wedding.”

“Well, if anyone has a chance with me,” I say, smiling and rolling my eyes, letting my gaze sweep over the men in the bar. Not once in my life have I come across one who wasn’t spineless, immoral or plain boring as fuck. Or all three.

I hear Lisa let out a little burp and I turn to her, chuckling, but she beats me to it. “It’s cute because he’s actually jealous of Tony.”

Ugh, Tony. “You can tell him he doesn’t have to be, we broke up.”

My friend frowns. “Why?”

I shrug. “He asked me to move in with him.” And I take a sip of my beer.

Lisa lets out a frustrated sigh. “I swear to God, Quinn, if you ditch another nice guy like that…”

“Nice, Lisa,” I drawl as I lock eyes with her, “is a wallpaper that doesn’t clash with your furniture. It’s a fleeting interaction with someone you’ll never think of again. Even if I didn’t think twenty one is too young to get tied down, nice is definitely not something you give everything up for.”

Her face twists in confusion. “Give everything up?” she echoes, sounding genuinely surprised. “Is that what you think love is?”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. “What else?” I say with a scoff. “I mean, you give yourself — all of yourself and for the rest of your life — to someone who’ll start cheating on you with his secretary ten years down the line, revealing he’s never even actually loved you for who you are.”

“Well, it’s not always the case. There are still plenty of examples of great loves—”

“Don’t care. You can never really know someone. And that’s why, L, however I look at it, it’s just not worth it.”

Lisa squints at me in a way that makes me feel like I’m under a magnifying glass.

“What?” I demand.

“That’s so cynical,” she says, shaking her head in disapproval, “even for you.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, making her laugh. “I’m not cynical, you idiot. I’m an idealist.”

“Pffft.”

Her reaction only makes me eager to prove I’m right. “How many foster homes have I lived in growing up, huh?” I ask as I lean in, locking eyes with her and starting to wave my hands around. “So sure, I’ve known exactly how endlessly depraved and fucked-up this world is for as long as I can remember. But what is it that I’m doing with my life? Am I moping around?” She raises her eyebrows at how worked up I’m getting, but I just keep going. “No, I’m working in social services, choosing, every single day, to believe that the world really can be a better place, if only we make it so. So don’t talk to me about cynicism.” And I lean back in my seat, resting my case.

“Alright alright,” she drawls with a smile. “Don’t get mad at me.” She raises her glass. “Here’s to the world being a better place, one saved kid at a time.”

And we clink our glasses, but I get this need to further prove my point. “But that’s the thing, Lisa,” I say. “You can change the world, and you still can’t change the fact that you can only ever know your own motives, never anyone else’s. And that, when it comes to love, doesn’t make me a cynic. It only makes me a realist.”

She just looks at me for a second. “Sure, Q,” she drawls, giving me a smile that makes me feel as if she thinks she can see right through me. And I prepare to keep fighting, but she doesn’t get into it. “Then let me make a new one,” she says, raising the glass once more. “To your wisdom.”

I let out a laugh. “You filthy suck-up, you.”

“Oh how you know me,” she snaps back with a grin.

I roll my eyes at her, but now the stuffy bar air is making me nauseous, so I start getting up. “Bathroom,” I explain when Lisa quirks her eyebrow at me. I don’t want her worrying over me potentially getting sick.

And I slide down my seat and surrender to the crowd, going straight for the door leading onto the back alley, the one that says Private on it. What can I say? I’m a regular.

And as I walk, the image of the woman pops into my head again. But this time, it feels almost ridiculous, for me to have thought, even for a second, that some scary looking vampire would come to Noxus to prey on me. That woman was a human, I keep reassuring myself. Admittedly, she could be one of those vampire wannabes, the ones that simply won’t make peace with the fact that you’re born a vampire, not made one. But she was a human nevertheless.

As I fling the door open and barge onto the poorly lit back alley, I almost let out a laugh.

But it gets trapped in my throat as soon as I spot her, the door to the bar slamming shut behind me.

***

The mere sight of her makes me freeze. She’s standing in the alley, so still she could be a cardboard cutout. I can’t see her face because of the streetlight illuminating her back, but I can tell she’s looking straight at me.

And she doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but I’ve tasted enough danger in my life to know it when I see it.

I take a deep but shaky breath, my mind going into overdrive.

Not taking my eyes off the woman, I take a step back towards the bar. The step is a small one, but it doesn’t escape her.

Like a shadow being sucked in my direction, she appears almost in front of my face. For a second, I feel unable to move, my heart breaking into a painful gallop at the sight of her impossibly sharp features and predatory eyes.

She doesn’t even move, she just keeps looking at me, her eyes narrowing into slits.

Forcing myself not to look away, I reach my hand back, everything inside me screaming to escape back into the safety of the bar, but the door won’t open and now her lips are curling into a smile and I’m watching her reach for something in her pocket.

Time seeming to slow, I muster all my courage, I spin around and start running out of the alley as fast as my legs and my lungs will allow me. Blood starts pumping in my veins like crazy.

It’s only after I’m already around the corner, running down the deserted street where the shelter is, that I realize the woman’s not following me. I slow down until I come to a full stop, panting and struggling to keep an eye on everything around me all at once.

I have the weirdest feeling that I’m being toyed with.

I look up at the building of the shelter. It’s practically falling apart, that’s how little funding we get to keep it going. Usually I don’t give a flying fuck, but today it just gives me the creeps.

Trying to avoid being murdered by some vampire stalker, I choose to go to the part of the city I usually ignore, the one that won’t be as deserted right now. The posh street that's all luxury stores and fancy restaurants.

When I finally get there, I find a crowded spot around an ornate fountain and throw myself on one of the freshly painted benches.

I look around, but I don’t see her. Despite midnight fast approaching, there’s a lot of people rushing past me — after all, it’s unusually warm for late August — but no one gives me so much as a glance. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in.

It’s at that exact moment that I hear it. Music of the kind you rarely hear on the streets. Slow, echoing, rich, melancholic. It reminds me of a piece in a mournful opera I was once forced to go to, but it’s not that which throws me off. It’s the fact that it’s somehow managed to drown out all the other sounds. The people’s chatter, the sound of water gushing from the fountain, the honking of cars from a nearby street.

I don’t even manage to look around for its source before it happens. My body starts acting of its own accord, making me get up and start walking, away from the fountain and straight towards the little convent, the only building on the street that doesn’t look modern.

My mind is buzzing. I’m reacting to the sound in a way that I’ve never reacted to any sound that came before it. If someone looked at me right now, they’d think I’m just a tourist taking a leisurely stroll, finding herself fascinated by Gothic architecture. On the inside, I’m fighting the onset of a panic attack. And as I’m slowly approaching it, I’m looking up at the stone lace adorning the convent, but I’m only doing it because I’m looking for clues.

It’s a lesson I’ve learned early on. You never know what piece of information might mean the difference between life and death.

But as soon as I find myself in front of the convent, I realize it isn’t this building I’m being led to. The alley between the convent and the fancy apartment complex to its right right is narrow and dark, but there’s someone waiting there, holding some kind of flute to their lips and using it to play that strange music with which it all started.

I don’t even have to see her properly to know that it’s the woman.

But the trick is, I find myself unable to stop walking straight towards her. My steps are small and measured, but my heart is making up for it, threatening to erase me from existence with its violent pounding. I know that a vampire doesn’t really need blood to live, but some still drink it, either to get a boost in power or, well, to get off. Which does she have in mind?

As soon as I find myself in front of her, the woman stops playing. I urge my body to run the hell away, but it doesn’t listen.

“Hello, little mouse,” I hear her smooth, deep voice break the silence. Her lips curl into a smile as she slides the flute into some invisible pocket in her cloak. And she takes something out of her cloak, a pendant on a chain — dark stone encased in elaborately carved metal. She lifts it up and lets it drop by the chain. But she’s not taking her eyes off me. “You know, putting up a fight like that only makes your blood run hotter,” she says as she takes me by the upper arm. She leans in and drops her voice to add, “More appealing.”

My eyes rounded with fear, I see a black hole form where the pendant is. The world around the hole starts slowly spinning, until it gets sucked into it in a single, violent jerk.

Chapter 2 - Quinn

As if tearing myself out of a thick, strong web, I wake up somewhere bright and warm, the silence broken only by the steady, calming ticking of some nearby clock. My head is swimming. I barely have time to register that I’m lying in a bed before my entire body starts convulsing. I lean to the side to throw up and end up doing it in a metal basin placed on the polished stone floor beside me.

Frowning as I recall the woman — the vampire, I quickly push myself back up to scan my body. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m not tied down, I don’t seem to be injured and I’m still wearing my clothes.

But it’s still too early to celebrate. I nervously glance around, but all I see are rows of empty beds in a giant, ancient-looking vaulted room. It’s strange, that’s for sure. But I’m alone, there’s that at least. The woman who took me is nowhere to be seen.

As the memory washes over me, the memory of the speed with which she appeared in front of me, my heart skips a beat and I realize I really have no fucking time to waste.

Trying not to make a sound, I carefully get up off the bed, looking for the door as I do it. I seem to be in some sort of hospital, but it’s unlike any hospital I’ve ever seen. The ceilings are so high, the distance makes me nauseous. The windows have stone lace on them, just like the Gothic convent I just came from. And the beds stretching in rows all around me seem modern, but not much else does.

As I tiptoe to the huge double door, my eyes land on a weird metal contraption placed on a nightstand beside one of the beds. It looks like a miniature water slide, but instead of water, there’s foul-smelling vapors traveling up and down its spiraling length.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think I got myself kidnapped to one of the First Cities, the few remaining ancient places that are still completely off limits to us humans.

I’m almost in front of the exit when a door on the other side of the room flings open. I freeze, but I don’t turn around. I just crane my neck, letting my eyes dart to the source of the sound.

There’s a guy in his early twenties walking straight towards me. His features are delicate, he’s wearing a white robe and he’s carrying another one of those metal basins in his hands. I turn around, frowning.

“Top of the morning to you,” he chirps out as he stops beside my bed and bends down to replace my basin. “Feeling better?”

“Where am I?” I demand, fighting to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

“You don’t know?” the guy asks as he straightens up, a frown forming on his face. “Do you know your name?” he asks as he rushes to feel my forehead.

I slap his hand away.

“Quinn Longborn,” I blurt out. What the flying fuck is going on here?

“Oh, alright.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “You did take it harder than most students, so you had me worried for a sec. Was this your first time traveling by the Pull?” he asks as he peers into my eyes intently, as if doing a check-up.

“I don’t know what that is,” I mutter. But I have more pressing things to find out. “Where’s the woman that brought me here?”

“The Pied Piper?” he asks, letting out a chuckle and waving an arm around. “She’s a very busy person. I highly doubt you’ll be seeing any more of her.”

“The Pied Piper?” I echo with a frown. “But the Pied Piper is the principal of Grimm Academy, isn’t she?”

Even in all-human communities, everyone knows of Grimm Academy. After all, it is one of the most prestigious academies for Originals in the whole world.

“And what do you think this place is?” the guy asks with a wide smile, motioning at the room we’re standing in. “It’s the Grimm Academy Hospital Wing.”

My frown only grows deeper, at which he lets out a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, the confusion will subside, and before you know it, I’ll have one of the students come pick you up and show you around the grounds.”

“Show me around?” I snap at him. “What the fuck do you all think you’re doing? If you think I’m just going to stand around and let you keep up with this sick joke…”

The guy throws me such a surprised, sad look that I instantly regret my outburst. He takes a step back, his face tensing up right before my eyes. He seems to be fighting not to show how much I’ve offended him. “You’re fae-blooded and you’re twenty-one. We’re only doing what’s required of us by the law.”

I let out a laugh. “Fae? Look, dude,” I start, raising my eyebrows in amusement, “the only supernatural thing about me is how much chocolate I can eat in one sitting. So I think you’ve made a mistake.”

I turn to grab the door handle.

“That’s not possible,” he replies dryly. “If you weren’t one of us, the Pied Piper wouldn’t have been able to use the Flute to seek you out in the first place.”

My hand is left hovering above the handle. I turn to face him again. I can feel my eyebrows pulling into a frown, but I can’t do much more than blink at him stupidly.

Chapter 3 - Quinn

Dumbfounded, I let the guy lead me back to the bed — a little less coldly — to wait for the student who’ll show me around the Academy. But as soon as I see him walk out of the room to tend to his duties, I force myself to snap out of it and whip out my phone. He’s not acting as if I’m a prisoner and it does seem as if I’m not in any immediate danger, but before I decide on my next step, I’ve a lot of questions that need answering.

It makes me feel so sorry when I unlock my phone and see how many times Lisa has texted and tried to call me. I check the time only to see it’s late afternoon of September 1st, which means I’ve been out for more than twelve hours. I quickly type a reply telling my friend that there’s no need to call the police, that I’ll explain later.

And I go straight to trying to find some answers.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I browse the web for the Flute, the thing the Pied Piper apparently used to identify me. These days, it’s common knowledge that the fairy tale was wrong on more than one account. The original Pied Piper never had anything to do with either rats or human children. She was a fae whose purpose in life was to seek out lost little vampires, faes and shifters, and bring them to a safe place. And her innate magic made her infallible in identifying the members of the three bloodlines. So when she was nearing her life’s end, she carved the Flute, the one all the subsequent Pied Pipers would use to continue her work.

It makes chills run down my spine, when I read the following bit.

These days, the item is in possession of none other than the Pied Piper of Grimm Academy, while Grimm Academy itself is the exact place the original Pied Piper used to bring her orphans and misfits to.

But more importantly, I realize when I keep scrolling — according to everyone ever, the Flute is just as infallible as she was.

Frowning, I look up from my phone. What if they really make me stay here? My eye gets drawn to the sound of the calming ticking, a clock hanging on the wall opposite me, a clock made of delicate, elaborately carved stone. It keeps ticking as I watch it, making that familiar yet so strange sensation flood me, the one you get when something earth-shattering happens to you and the world keeps going as if it’s the same as ever.

Flooding with anxiousness, I let my upper body fall onto the soft mattress of the bed I’m sitting on. And I fix my eyes on the flowery relief on the ceiling.

If it were true — my being fae-blooded — it would mean the guy’s right and I’m required by law to attend the Academy. But I need it confirmed, that the Concordium is still a thing.

Without getting up, I do a quick search, using ‘breaking the Concordium’ as the keyword. It feels weird because it’s something I’ve always known about, but it was never of any actual interest to me. I mean, a pact made between humans and Originals ensuring that every vampire, fae and shifter learns control of their powers by attending an Academy? Not something I ever thought I’d need to know more about.

It makes pent-up frustration rise to the surface when I find no results for my search.

I look up from my phone and then spring from the bed, all of a sudden feeling amused by the situation.

What am I even thinking? I’m not a fucking fae. If I were able to control the elements or do any of the other stuff faes can do, I think I’d have noticed it by now. Maybe the Flute is correct most of the times, but there’s nothing in this world that’s one hundred percent foolproof.

So I put my phone back in my pocket and I decide to get the fuck out of this place and back home. I mean, it is an Academy for Originals, but how hard can it be to find your way out of this place?

So I take a deep breath and I go straight for the door through which I initially planned on leaving. I open it and walk out, finding myself in a deserted hallway with a smile tugging at my lips.

***

No one follows me. I start down the hallway, my eyes getting drawn to the plush red carpet beneath my feet, the ancient-looking stone walls around me, the strange oil-paintings in gold frames lining their lengths.

The place is unlike any I’ve ever laid eyes on, which comes as no surprise, considering its reputation.

The Castle That Isn’t, that’s how people sometimes refer to it. Why? Simply because it’s built underground, its windows enchanted to show the world above ground.

But instead of the windows, I keep stopping in front of the mirrors. Under any other circumstances, if somehow I found myself inside this world-famous Academy, I sure as hell wouldn’t feel the need to look at my own stupid face. I’d probably be running around, scrambling to take in as much of my surroundings as I can.

But it’s not exactly the right time for me to do any sightseeing. I’ve just had my entire world shattered, after all. So I do it one more time. I stop in front of a very old-looking commode in the gazillionth hallway I’ve entered since I left the Hospital Wing. It’s got an ornate silver mirror hanging above.

Of course, the face staring at me from its murky surface is the exact same face I normally see staring at me from my bathroom mirror. Still, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m losing my mind or what, I start to see why someone might think I’m a fae. Sure, I’m curvier than they normally are. But my jawline is sharp, my eyes are large and I have that heart-shaped forehead.

So do a lot of humans, Quinn, I tell myself as I let out a frustrated breath. It’s easier with vampires and shifters. Shifters usually have highly noticeable tribal tattoos, while vampires are paler than your average human. But faes and regular people… Purely physically speaking, they can easily be mistaken for each other.

I make myself snap out of it and keep walking, keeping an eye out for exits without knowing exactly what I’m looking for. Soon, I start hearing this murmur, a faint but powerful one.

I pick up the pace, following the source of the sound.

Three more times I turn a corner before the sound grows to an echoing, almost ear-splitting chatter and I suddenly find myself in an enormous room I can’t find words for. Entrance hall of some kind? I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been in a room with a giant statue at the center, huge archways lining the walls and ancient-looking banners hanging from vaulted ceilings.

But whatever the room is, it’s packed. And I can do nothing but stop midstep as soon as I realize all the people in here are Originals. Potentially dangerous Originals.

I keep standing there, my mind buzzing.

But on second glance, I see that they’re students excited for the first day of school, greeting each other loudly and cheerfully and then heading for their mysterious destinations together.

My lips curl into a smile. This I can manage. And I keep walking, letting myself get swallowed by the crowd as I try to determine which way to take to get out of the castle.

Behind me, there’s a gallery with richly carved wooden stairs leading up. But it looks like I’d only be able to find classrooms there. To my right, people seem to be filing into some sort of cafeteria. Won’t find what I’m looking for there.

But no one around me seems to be paying me no mind, so when I come to the center of the hall, I stop to take a closer look at the statue.

Brothers Grimm, I think as I look up at their solemn stone faces. It’s so large and imposing — the statue, showing the two of them holding actual balls of light in their palms, that I get a bit mesmerized. I get a bit closer, so I can read the inscription.

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, 1847.

That’s all it says, but of course, everyone knows who they were and what they did. The two men responsible for the Unveiling, the biggest event in world history in at least the last two centuries. The day when the Originals stepped out from the shadows and made their existence known to humans after centuries of hiding.

For one long moment, I just keep staring at the statue, trying to picture what it was like for humans. To not grow up knowing it, but instead to find it all out at once — that all those fairy tale creatures you never thought were real, were living and breathing beings walking the earth with you.

It snaps me out of my ruminations when, with the corner of my eye, I spot a student leap into the air. I jump to my right, my entire body suddenly on high alert.

Holding my breath, I watch him shift right before my eyes, the giant pale yellow snake he transforms into wrapping itself around the statue and slithering away the very next moment. Of course, no one around me bats an eye.

Me? I’m more uneasy than ever. After all, I’ve found myself in a world I know next to nothing about.

Whatever I do, I can’t let myself forget that.

Luckily, as soon as I think that, I spot this giant brushed-brass Elevator across from the cafeteria. It makes my heart skip a beat.

Finally, a way out of here.

I pick up my pace and I walk up to it, pressing the button as soon as I do.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hear someone say and my head snaps to my left. The question seems to have been posed by this strange girl standing there, squinting at me.

“What do you think I’m doing?” I ask, trying to buy myself some time. Her body is toned, tattooed and tan, while the hair is blonde streaked with the purest white I’ve ever seen. A shifter, I’m almost sure. But whether she’s a danger, that I can’t tell.

She shakes her head at me. “Do you know how much trouble you could get me in?”

The less I tell her, the less trouble I’ll get myself in. I throw her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, that really wasn’t my intention.”

To my surprise, her mouth cracks into a grin. “It’s fine.” She slides closer to me, her eyes growing wide. “Tell me what it was like having the Pied Piper bring you here herself, and all will be forgotten.”

It finally dawns on me. “Wait a minute,” I demand, “you’re the girl that’s supposed to show me around, aren’t you?”

She blinks at me. “Shit,” she says as she takes a step back, looking away for a second as if she’s embarrassed. “Did I forget to tell you that?

I raise my eyebrows, throwing her an amused look.

“But you only have yourself to blame, you know,” she insists, “making me have to look for you all over.”

“True,” I concede, a smile tugging at my lips.

She grins. “My name is Nuala,” she says as she holds her hand out to me. “Nice to meet you.”

“Quinn, nice to meet you, too.”

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” Nuala asks as she gestures for me to follow.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I smile from ear to ear. There’s palpable tension in the sound. After all, I still have no fucking idea what will come of all this. But if I’m clever about it, maybe I could make her tell me how to get the fuck out of this place.

Chapter 4 - Quinn

“So it’s not something that normally happens?” I ask Nuala as she leads me away from the elevator and straight for one of the archways on the opposite side of the entrance hall. “The Pied Piper personally coming for students?”

She cranes her neck to look at me. “These days?” she asks. Then she laughs, the sound both deep and flowy. “No.”

Interesting, I think to myself. “If that’s the case,” I start, rushing to catch up with her as she walks through the archway, “is there a chance she could’ve made a mistake?”

She stops walking and turns to look at me, frowning. “A mistake?” She pauses before she says, “I don’t understand.”

For a second, I just look at her, not sure how much info I want to willingly surrender. But it’s such a benign look she’s throwing me. “They’re telling me I’m a fae, but I’m not.” She frowns at me, and I rush to explain, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Oh I’ve been told you seem to be new to all this,” Nuala replies matter-of-factly, “but as for your powers…”

She glances at my neck, making me hold my breath in anticipation. “How could you have them? You don’t have your Runes.”

I just blink at her. Fucking Runes. I forgot about those — the tools that fae-blooded Originals use for their magic.

Nuala doesn’t wait for my response. “So this here is the Main Hall,” she says in her formal tour-guide voice as she gestures at the room around us.

I snap out of it, letting my eyes sweep over the biggest hall I’ve seen in my life. It’s loud and packed with groups of students who all seem to be busy catching up with their friends after the summer break. My eye is drawn to so many different things at once that I can barely register anything in particular. Colorful couches and armchairs, ancient-looking tapestries, piles of old books. Even weird statues lining the walls, some of them covered in moss despite the fact we’re indoors.

“It’s where we come to hang out,” I hear Nuala say, “although there’s a lot of common rooms, too. But this one seems to be everyone’s favorite.”

“Uh-huh,” I nod, my eyes fixed on a couple of students sitting at a low table, all staring at a metal cube levitating in the air above them. As I watch it, the cube shifts into a spiked ball and I see one of the students lean back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. But almost instantly, the ball turns back into a cube and I hear that same student curse loudly, wiping blood off his cheek.

Nuala’s voice snaps me out of my trance. “I think you’ll have a lot of fun here.” She’s leaning in so I can feel her breath on my skin. “But if someone asks you to play a game with them…” She pauses and I turn to look at her. “You better think twice before you say yes.”

I raise my eyebrows slightly, but she just gives me a shrug and keeps walking. “Chop, chop,” she chirps out, “the Opening Ceremony is starting soon and I still have a lot more to show you.”

I don’t protest. I still have the matter of leaving the Academy to feel out, but I don’t want to raise suspicion. So for the time being, I just pick up the pace and patiently let her lead me out of the Main Hall, up the stairs onto the gallery and through a million hallways as she explains where most of my classes will be held, where I can get books, what professors to avoid and so on and so forth.

At one point, after she tells me “You really have to try the cafeteria cheesecake” for the millionth time, I feel the urge to stop her. We’re in the middle of a wide hallway with rows of double doors, the classrooms behind them still empty.

“I’m sorry if this is rude, Nuala, but I think there’s someone in this castle, someone in charge of student selection, who thinks I have a much fatter wallet than I actually do.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me and then lets out a laugh. “You don’t pay for this yourself, silly.”

I just blink at her stupidly. Back at the shelter, we can’t even make sure all the kids get a home, let alone the opportunity to go to a prestigious school. And here, it’s let-them-eat-cheesecake day, every day.

I don’t share any of my thoughts. I just let Nuala keep showing me around, but now, all I can think about is the injustice of it all. But of course, this is the Originals we’re talking about.

The power they wield is not the only major difference between them and humans. There’s also the matter of the all-Original communities being much wealthier on average. And what do they do with all that power and wealth? Amass more power and wealth, of course, not giving a single fuck about any of the much more disadvantaged all–human communities.

Bitterness floods my mouth.

“Want to see the castle grounds?” I hear Nuala ask.

I snap out of it, realizing we’re back in front of that huge, weird looking elevator.

I give her a nod and she presses the button. My lips curl into a smile. As the door opens and we walk inside, all I can think about is finally finding out how to leave this place.

***

“It’s clumsy, I know,” Nuala chuckles as she presses the button labeled Ground Level, “but the Architect at the time was kinda obsessed with all things human.”

Just as I open my mouth to tell her none of this could ever seem clumsy to me, the door opens again and I find myself sucking in a breath.

Nuala nudges me to get moving. As soon as we step out of it, the Elevator disappears back into the ground and we find ourselves outside. It’s dusk out and the deep, dark forest is looming from the horizon, serving as the perfect backdrop to the garden overgrown with moss, reeds and prickly bushes. There are gravel paths leading to its center, where I see a solitary stone statue that I recognize from photos. It’s the statue of Dame Gothel, one of the most famous Originals of all times, her long cloak and wild hair made to appear as if they’re billowing in the wind.

But of course, what draws my attention are the Towers themselves, the only parts of the castle that aren’t underground. Plenty of distance between them, they shoot up into the darkening sky as if they were four enormous fingers threatening to pierce it.

“Wow,” I say with genuine excitement, “I never thought I’d get to see more than pictures of this in human magazines.”

When I turn to her, I see that Nuala is throwing me a dazzling smile. “Oh, you have to tell me all about those.”

I return the smile. “Lemme guess,” I say, raising my hand to point at the nearest tower, the one nestled on a lake shore, leaning dangerously to one side and all covered in vines. “That is the Ydril Tower.”

“Yep,” Nuala nods, shifting from leg to leg as if she’s having trouble staying in one place. “That's where all the faes are housed. Then there’s the Grimm Tower,” she recites as she points at the plainest one, behind which I can see the wall surrounding the castle grounds, “where you’ll find the Pied Piper’s office, as well as those of most of the professors.” Then she turns to point at the one that seems to be growing out of the stony hill behind, its surface so smooth, it seems to reflect light. “That right there is the Lilith Tower,” she keeps going, “and the one bordering with the forest is the Lycan Tower.”

As she says that, my eyes sweep up and down the tower that looks the oldest, probably because of all the rough stone.

“That’s yours?”

She nods.

“You know,” I say, smiling as I turn to look at her, “you look like your animal would be something really fierce.”

And I don’t expect her to shift to show me, but I definitely don’t expect to see her frown at me. As if I’d just offended her. I open my mouth to say I’m sorry if I was rude, but she cuts me off.

“I think we better get going,” she says flatly. “The Opening Ceremony should be starting soon.” And she turns to head back to where the elevator disappeared into the ground.

Fuck. If we go back inside now, I won’t get to find out how to leave this place. One thing I do know is that Grimm Academy is in the middle of nowhere.

“Just one question before we go,” I dare to ask. Nuala stops and turns to look at me. “Is there any kind of transportation out of this place? In case I want to leave for the weekend or something,” I rush to add.

It makes me breathe a sigh of relief when she gives me a slight smile. “Sure, you can use the Pull,” she says as she points at a round cast-iron fence dug into the grass some distance from the Dame Gothel statue.

I feel a flutter of hope in my chest before she adds, “But you have to ask for permission first.”

“Oh.” I open my mouth to ask how hard it is to get permission, when my eye gets drawn back to the Pull.

My eyes round when I see a hole appear inside the fence, identical to the one that sucked me in when the Pied Piper did her magic. It makes a suppressed memory flood me, the memory of being spit out, half-conscious, tripping all over myself and vomiting before I got carried to the hospital wing.

Right now, there’s someone else being spit out.

But unlike me, this guy deftly lands on his feet, jumps over the fence and keeps walking with his hands in his pockets. Dammit.

Just as I’m about to turn to Nuala to recount what the Pull did to me, I recognize him.

“That’s not…” I break off, suddenly unable to tear my eyes away.

“The Crown Prince?” she finishes my sentence in a voice that’s telling me she’s staring as well. “It sure is.”

Andreas Faust. He doesn’t stop walking, his movements smooth and controlled. But now I see that he’s looking straight at me, as if he’d heard our little exchange loud and clear, even though there’s quite a bit of overgrown garden separating us.

Because he did hear us. Because he’s a vampire, for crying out loud. Maybe he doesn’t shy away from the sun, as people thought in the good ol’ days, but he definitely has heightened senses.

The way his eyes linger on me makes my heart start pounding, and I can feel tension emanating from Nuala as well. Fucking hell, have I just done something stupid?

He breaks eye contact and stops walking just when he reaches the spot from which the two of us came. I watch the elevator rise from the ground and disappear as soon as he walks into it. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in.

Potential disaster averted.

But it’s an unexpected blast from the past as well, to see with my own two eyes the vampire prince whose posters I drooled over when I was still a twelve-year-old girl living with Mrs Fletcher.

“Wow,” I hear Nuala say and I turn back to her only to see her frowning in the direction of the elevator, “I didn’t expect to see him without the usual entourage.”

With that, she walks back to the spot where the elevator is hiding.

“Is he a professor here?” I ask as I rush to catch up with her.

“Professor? No,” she replies with a laugh. As soon as it appears, she walks into the Elevator, making me jump in after her. She presses a button labeled Level Minus One. When she looks at me again, a slight frown is scrunching up her forehead. “I thought everyone knew he was enrolling. It was all people talked about the entire summer.”

The door opens and we step out into the entrance hall. “Even now,” she says with a smile, “the tabloids won’t leave it alone.”

I look up and almost let out a laugh. I haven’t even noticed them because I was so focused on everything that makes Grimm Academy out of ordinary for someone like me, but there’s more than one huge screen hung above us.

The sound is muted on all of them. But two out of four are currently dedicated to the prince. They’re switching between photos of the Academy and photos of him in his perfectly tailored suits.

And I’m still dumbfounded that I’ve found myself in the same place as Andreas Faust, but then my mind rushes back to Nuala saying he’s enrolling this year. And that makes me identify a unique opportunity.

“I’m sorry, Nuala,” I start as I tear my eyes away from the screens and turn to look at her, “but I thought the law — you know, the Concordium — states that every Original has to start attending an Academy at twenty one. And I don’t know much about the Crown Prince, but I know for sure that he’s older than twenty one. Is the Concordium not a thing anymore?”

“Oh it sure is,” she says with a laugh. I see her eyes round in fear when she continues, as if she’s just remembered something, “A couple of years ago, there was this one shifter who refused to go, saying all education was brainwashing…”

“And?” I nudge her to go on, my eyebrows pulling down.

“The sentence they passed was death by Mind Magic.” My heart sinks low into my stomach. “It’s said to be the worst kind of death imaginable.”

Fucking hell. I have to force a flat voice when I ask, “So how come the prince is only enrolling now? There must at least be a loophole of some kind then.”

She shakes her head. “They only make exceptions for rulers and high-level people like that.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “They’re saying the prince was gone trying to stop some war in the east.”

Damnit. I sure as hell can’t provide a reason like that, I think as my eyes sweep over the crowded entrance hall. Is there really nothing I can do to get out of this alive?

“Anyway,” Nuala says, snapping me out of it and making me turn to look at her. “The Opening Ceremony is about to start.” Giving me a little smile, she motions at the archway next to the one leading into the Main Hall.

“Oh fuck.” I slap myself on the forehead. “You did mention it earlier.”

“It’s no reason to get your panties in a bunch,” she says with a laugh. “It’s basically dinner. But I do hope you enjoy it. And once it’s over, someone from your house will show you to your room in Ydril Tower.” She gives me a shy smile. “Good luck with everything.” And with that, she waves, turns on her heel and starts walking away.

It takes me by surprise, the abrupt way she ends our little tour. But she probably has friends waiting for her at the ceremony. So I shrug it off and start making my own way there, feeling like a fish out of water as I walk past tattooed shifters, pale-skinned vampires and faes who’ve probably known they’re faes their whole fucking lives. God damn them.

But as I go through the archway into what seems like a giant dining hall, I almost have to raise my hand to shield my eyes. Outside, it’s already dark. But in here, the light is reflecting off both seen and invisible surfaces. Ornate metal. Polished stone. Lacquered wood. All in green and gold, the colors of the Academy. Despite its enormity, the room is steadily filling up, the murmur of the students taking their seats creating a soft, feverish music that perfectly reflects how I’m feeling.

I guess I’m a fae who won’t be able to wriggle her way out of attending this Academy, I think as I look for a seat. And that has a lot of implications, a lot of which I can’t even be fully aware of yet. But it could also mean a lot of unexpected possibilities.

Chapter 5 - Quinn

Ifind a seat close to the exit. I don’t know what kind of danger I’m expecting, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I choose to shoot Lisa a text to tell her all about what happened, simply because, well, who knows when I’ll get a chance to give her a call. Then I throw smiles at everyone around me, but only a couple of students at my table smile back. One of the girls even frowns.

Oh well, you can’t please everyone.

With the corner of my eye, I see Nuala sitting alone. Now that she’s not giving me the tour, she seems different. As if she’s trying her hardest to stay invisible.

I’d know. It’s basically all I did when I was still in the foster system. And it makes my brain want to poke around hers in search of possible reasons, but I force myself not to think about it. It’s a habit of mine. To make other people’s problems my own. And it’s a welcome thing when I’m at work, but when it comes to my personal life, it’s not necessarily, um, good.

To distract myself, I turn to look around. The dinner hasn’t started yet so I have some time to take in my surroundings. Besides the long tables the students are sitting at, there’s one placed on a podium at the front of the hall. It’s still empty, but it’s obviously there for the professors and the faculty. Above it, there’s a flag with the Academy’s crest flapping in the breeze. It’s full of detail and I can barely make anything out.

My eyes sweep over the walls around me. I see the other crests, too. The crests of the three royal bloodlines. There’s the House of Lycan, the full moon with its two halves, one light and one dark. Then the House of Lilith, the black cross fitted inside a simple circle, the circle of life.

But when my eye finally lands on the crest of the House of Ydril, something stirs deep inside me. Of course, I’ve seen it a gazillion times before, the wide open eye shaped like a triangle. But the corners of the flag on which it’s depicted are adorned with birds. Tiny black ones. And it’s those birds that make me feel… something.

I squint, trying to bring back a memory I didn’t even know I had.

I only snap out of it when I hear a murmur rise from all around me. I crane my neck in the direction of the archway, where I see the prince himself step into the hall. Except now, he’s not alone. He’s surrounded by girls and guys dressed in the latest fashion, looking around as if they own the place.

What catches my eye as they walk is that they’re all trying to get his attention, especially the women.

Can’t really blame them. I used to spend hours staring at his photos and repeating his name to myself. Andreas Faust. Andreas. Faust. Until I could no longer tell the difference between real life and fantasy. And he’s even more eerily handsome in real life. My eyes are struggling to take it all in. The chiseled jawline, the porcelain skin, the thick black hair. Even the long, elegant muscles straining his sharp suit. But it’s his eyes and the way he carries himself that I think keeps his cohort and everyone around him under his spell. There’s an air of bored privilege about him, that’s for sure. But then there’s also something else, something I can’t put my finger on…

I’m so absorbed in watching him that I almost miss the whole thing. When the prince and his company reach the only empty front seats, I see a posh vampire dude with long sideburns come out of nowhere, placing his hand on the chair that the prince was just about to claim.

There’s a stir in the crowd and I see one of the girls walking with the prince take a step forward, warning, “Don’t do it, Leo.”

But Leo doesn’t even acknowledge her. His lips curling into a smile, he addresses the prince directly, “I think you’ll find more empty seats to the back.”

I hear so many breaths being drawn in, the sound echoes. Shit. This might get ugly, I think as I grab onto the edge of the table.

For a second, the prince just stands there and stares at the guy as the entire room waits for his reaction with bated breath.

Without taking his eyes off him, he takes one deliberate step back and I breathe a sigh of relief.

The very next second, he disappears.

Confused, I get up and look around, along with everyone else. And only once I see him crouching over the guy, who’s now lying on the ground, do I realize that that’s not what happened. He didn’t disappear. He’s just abnormally fast, so fast my mind couldn’t even register his movements.

What snaps me out of it is the low groaning that comes out of Leo’s mouth. I lean forward, my heart starting to pound when I see that the prince is keeping his arm twisted in a fucked-up position. He bends closer to him and whispers something into his ear.

“Fuck you,” I hear Leo snap back at him.

With the corner of my eye, I see people glancing at each other as an actual scream comes out of the poor dude’s mouth.

It’s then that my instinct overtakes me. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m getting out of my chair and charging straight at them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” I demand as I stop right before him, my hands balled into fists.

He slowly gets up and throws me an unreadable look, letting a few of the others grab Leo and lead him away. He’s so tall, I have to look up to meet his eye.

“I could ask you the same question,” he says flatly. “Addressing a prince without being formally introduced.”

I have to fight the shivers that his voice sends down my skin. It’s smooth and thorny at the same time.

“I don’t see a prince, I only see an asshole,” I snap at him, though my own voice is barely above a whisper.

For a second, there’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. He doesn’t move, except for the tiniest flick of his hand as he motions for one of his minions to come close. The guy rushes to him and whispers something in his ear. I think I hear the word ‘human’ being spoken.

His eyes still locked on mine, the prince frowns, stays still for a second and then lets out a scoff. His lips curl into a smile as he says, “I guess being raised by humans makes one stupid.”

“What did you just say to me?” I hear myself raising my voice, but at the same time, there are so many gasps coming out of the mouths of the people around me.

He pays them no mind. “Here, let me make sure you hear me this time.” He leans in so his lips are almost touching my ear. I shudder. “You’re not among the Scions anymore. You better learn how things work here.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “And you better make it quick.”

The look on his face when he pulls away from me is, once again, unreadable.

It pisses me off so much, that he’s nothing like the man my high-school self dreamed him to be. I open my mouth to tell him off, but then his eyes dart over my shoulder and to the front of the hall. Noticing students rushing to their seats, I crane my neck and I see the Pied Piper staring the two of us down.

The woman who kidnapped and brought me here. The vampire who’s apparently the Academy’s current Pied Piper.

She doesn’t say anything, but I sense the prince tense up beside me. He quickly pushes past me and walks straight to the seat that Leo wanted for himself. I follow suit, returning to my own table.

When I look at her again, I see the Pied Piper gliding towards the table on the podium at the front of the hall. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I’m so shocked to see her again, I barely register the people who I can only assume are professors filing into the hall after her.

And I guess I should feel lucky that I’ve managed to come out of this unscathed, but I just feel like an idiot.

Even without the creepy back alley serving as the backdrop, the Pied Piper’s presence sends shivers down my spine. As she glides up to her seat, a tall chair made out of wood and bone, I watch the hem of her charcoal cloak glide across the polished stone. She’s sharpness, boldness, elegance all at once.

While the rest of the professors take their seats, she remains standing in front of her place setting. She doesn’t have to say or do anything to silence the chatter. As soon as she reaches for the tall glass filled to the brim with what seems to be some kind of reddish champagne, everyone goes silent.

I notice the same glass with the same liquid appear in front of me. Then her clear, commanding, slightly bored voice fills the room, making me shudder a little.

“This is the third year I’ve had the privilege to address you all at the start of the year,” she drawls as her mesmerizing eyes sweep over us all. They don’t linger on me, which makes me at the same time relieved and disappointed.

“And I know you’d gladly listen to me for hours,” she continues, making quite a few students chuckle, “but there’s really only one thing I have to say to you today.”

When she pauses, there’s such silence, I could hear a fly.

“The blood gin is supposed to be excellent,” she says, raises her glass and downs the whole thing.

Almost instantly, the students start clapping and cheering, following suit with their own drinks. I don’t even raise my glass. I’m simply too stupefied.

Almost as soon as I found out who kidnapped me, I looked for information on her online. Johanna de Groot. She seems to have been many things throughout the course of her long life. The solemn heiress to a sixteenth-century nobleman. The woman who tracked the Mad King Aeres’ army down, ripped all of their throats out and bathed in their blood… Stuff like that.

And here she is, the 127th Pied Piper cracking jokes at the opening ceremony.

As I watch her take her seat, I down my own blood gin and instantly regret it. I feel drunk, but it can’t be. I’ve barely had two fingers of this shit.

Still, the world around me suddenly has that veil of softness drawn all over it. And I feel the familiar mix of excitement and longing flooding my senses.

It’s at that exact moment that Lisa texts me back, telling me to go fuck myself for messing with her like that. It takes me a while to convince her I’m not pulling some kind of prank. When I finally do, she asks me how I’m feeling.

It gives me pause. I want to eat everything there is to eat, and then some. I want to drink some more blood gin and go wandering around the castle until I know every nook and cranny. But more than anything else, I want to climb to the top of its highest tower and yell ‘What the fuck is going on’.

I only do one of those things. As soon as the food starts appearing on the table in front of me, I start eating like crazy. I don’t even care that everyone seems to act as if I’m some pariah. Because Nuala was right. The Grimm Academy cheesecake is the best damn cheesecake I’ve ever had.

By the time dinner is over, I’m drunk, stuffed and sleepy as fuck. Some stuck-up fae-blooded girl comes to my table and waves me over as if I’m an animated piece of luggage. I throw on my warmest smile and I push myself out of my chair.

“Come, I’ll show you to your room,” she says when I finally manage to stagger to where she’s waiting for me.

“You’re like an angel sent from heaven,” I chuckle, thinking I might even be able to fall asleep without my run.

The girl throws me a half-disgusted look. “Angel? Cringe.”

“Wow,” I drawl. “No angels then. Gotcha.”

The girl just rolls her eyes and keeps walking, but she cranes her neck a little to add, “I’m also supposed to tell you that someone left some stuff for you in your room.”

“Stuff? For me? Who?” I ask, frowning and trying to suppress a burp.

“Your parents? Your second grade Maths teacher?” she recites as she shoots me an annoyed look. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Parents. It’s the only word that sticks with me, leaving me breathless, speechless. And by the time the girl leaves me in front of my room, the entire world around me is spinning in one continuous, slow motion that makes me sick to my stomach. All my life, I’ve been alone, bouncing from one foster home to another. But it’s also true that all my life, I’d thought that I was human.

Apparently, I’m not. And it seems safe to conclude that my parents weren’t either.

Or aren’t either.

Because if everything else was a lie, maybe the bit about the dead parents is, too.

Chapter 6 - Quinn

Iscoff as I fling another useless book at the wall of my room. I’m still trying to find a way to go back to my old life, to Lisa, Charlie and the other kids at the shelter, but when I’m not… I’m raging at the fact that it’s been three weeks. Three fucking weeks since I first walked into this room and found a bunch of crap that I first believed, no, hoped to be some kind of treasure. Legacy left to me by my parents.

That hope didn’t grow smaller even after I asked around and found out that it was all sent to me using untraceable magic. Not even after I realized that there really is no note, no signature, nothing. But now, now that I’ve gone through it all only to confirm that it’s just a whole shitload of books…

I keep sitting on the floor, throwing daggers at them.

Now, my room is cozy, cozier than any room I’ve ever slept in. The bed looks like it may as well be from the sixteenth century, but the mattress is brand new. There’s a TV hung on the wall opposite to it and I even have my own bathroom. Add to it the view of the overgrown garden from the window behind the armchair and you get everything a girl could ever want in a room.

But it’s small. And the tall piles of books lying around make it so I can’t take two steps without stubbing my toe on one of them.

Of course, that’s not what’s actually pissing me off. I’ve lived in houses with locks on fridge doors and I haven’t been this fussy about it, I reason with myself as I get off the floor. I pick up the innocent volume I just took it all out on. Crouching, I take it in my hand and stroke its silver-embossed title. The Second War of the Elements, it says.

I scoff. If nothing else, I can be sure that none of this was sent to me by anyone I know, even if they did manage to get their hands on powerful, untraceable magic. Lisa would’ve told me when I asked her. Marlene? My boss ain’t got time for anything other than work. And the rest… Well, let’s just say my former foster parents are much better at taking than giving.

I let out a sigh and look out the window. It’s haunted by a lot of bad memories, but I still miss my old life, at least what I made of it after leaving the system. Going for my midnight runs. Doing actual meaningful work instead of attending classes about magic I can’t even use. Going for drinks with Lisa instead of just texting as I waste away alone in my room, no actual connection to anything or anyone in my new ‘home’.

Which also means I’ve no one to help me figure out who the fuck sent me these mystery books.

I stand up and turn on the TV. I throw myself on my bed, deciding to spend the remaining time before the first class of the day distracting myself from everything that’s slowly driving me crazy.

Remote in my hand, I start flicking through channels like crazy. Nothing seems interesting enough to tear my mind away from my ruminations. Until I pause on OTV. It’s one of the human channels dealing exclusively with the Originals. Famous Originals, that is. They couldn’t care less about the regular shifter, vampire or fae.

And of course, who looks at me from the screen? Andreas Faust himself. Or the Dark Prince, as the tabloids like to call him.

I listen to the newswoman reporting on his latest comings and goings. “...seen walking out of the Academy grounds for some fresh air.”

For crying out loud, why are they all so fucking obsessed with him, I think to myself as I squint to take a better look. But the photo they’re showing right now is too grainy, so I pull out my phone to look for images online.

Back in the days of my own obsession, when I still had the posters, sometimes, I’d focus on his lips because they looked like someone took a lot of time sculpting them to perfection. Other times, I’d focus on his hands, especially when the fingers would be caught running through his hair. And from time to time, I’d even take the time to scrutinize his perfectly tailored shirts and waistcoats. He seems to still love those.

But these days, more often than not, my eyes stay fixed on his. It’s that look in them that I have to blame for it, the look that left me utterly confused when I found myself standing in front of him for the very first time.

I know people. I’m used to putting together an entire character assessment from the tiniest glimpse of contempt in the corner of the mouth, or the slightest nervous movement when someone’s name is mentioned.

He gives me nothing. Except for the overwhelming urge to know more, apparently.

One I’m not stupid enough to act on, of course. He’s not just a vampire, but a royal one at that.

But I honestly don’t mind that it’s powerful enough to help me waste more than enough time before my class starts.

Because, by the time I tear my eyes away from his photos and glance at the clock above my desk, I’m already three minutes late.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s really not okay that you’re doing this to yourself, Quinn, I scold myself as I fling the door open even before I’ve finished pulling my sweater over my head. Professor Gamal hasn’t exactly warmed up to me, even without me disrespecting him like this.

Walking as fast as I can without breaking into a sprint, I nervously fidget with the runes around my neck. By the time I’m barging into the classroom, everyone else is seated, the scrawny Professor Gamal’s voice already scratching at my ears. “Who can tell me which set of Runes is the trickiest to control?”

He barely finishes the sentence before his eyes dart to me trying to sneak into one of the rows of seats facing his pulpit. “Ah, Miss Longborn. Proving that the early bird indeed does catch the worm.”

I fight to keep my face expressionless as I sit down. “I apologize for being late, Professor.”

“Apologies mean little when one has so much to catch up on,” the professor says, referring without a doubt to the fact I haven’t been able to answer any of his questions so far. “Well?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Um,” I start, listing the different types in my mind in search of some logical answer. My hand darts to my own set. “Maybe the Creator’s Runes?”

“Maybe?” the professor repeats after me as he looks at me from under his bushy eyebrows. “Is that the best you can give me?”

“I think it would make sense,” I start, fighting not to get discouraged by the mocking chuckles the other students let out. “I mean, considering that they contain Genesis, the rarest and trickiest of all seven runes.” At least that’s what it said when I looked them up after my ceremony.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the professor nod, however hesitantly. “It would make sense, yes. And maybe it would be the correct answer, if there wasn’t such a thing as the Keeper’s Runes. After all, they’re the only ones that contain all seven, including Genesis.”

He turns back to the rest of the class as he goes on to explain the mechanics and characteristics of the Keeper’s Runes. I seem to be off the hook so I let myself breathe.

But all I can think about is how much I’m struggling with my own set. My hand darts to it once again. I look down, but nothing’s changed.

A week after my arrival, and in a pretty unceremonious manner if I may say, I’ve been given a set of three stone beads, the kind that the majority of faes have.

The only problem is…

The majority of faes get theirs when they’re five years old and they almost immediately bond with them. And not just that, they very quickly manage to use Sight to unlock the first rune. So by the time they’re at the Academy, they can already do stupidly amazing shit like blocking a Fire attack by conjuring full-body armor using only Earth.

At least that’s what that girl did, the one sitting two rows in front of me, passing notes with the two students I always see her with — Zelda, a grumpy-looking vampire girl that always has headphones on, and Harry, a seemingly chirpy but violent shifter with tattoos on his neck.

And then there’s their ringleader — Sarya, who apparently notices me looking and cranes her neck, her golden eyes slowly narrowing. She always has her dark hair braided and wears what I can only describe as flowy overalls. But that’s where the delicate shit stops, because her entire body is covered in painful-looking piercings and scars.

I manage not to look away too quickly, but Sarya’s stare still makes me squirm in my seat. Once she finally turns back to the front of the classroom, I breathe a sigh of relief. All three of them are sitting sedately at the moment, but when there are no professors around... They’re practically bullies with powers.

If they tried to use them on me? I’d have to literally run for my life.

As soon as the class ends, I jump up off my feet and rush out of the classroom, heading straight for the cafeteria. As I walk away, I look over my shoulder a couple of times, making sure Sarya didn’t decide to make me into her plaything for today.

When I finally get to the cafeteria, the huge hall is already crowded. It’s past two o’clock, the time when most students come to have lunch. There are crowds around the fountains, everyone elbowing to get their glasses refilled with one of the many flavored sodas. I go straight for the counters where they normally keep pizza and other fast food.

But instead of pizza, my eyes go straight for the far corner of the room, where I hear a familiar voice rise above the chatter in the room. “And what am I supposed to tell Professor Ceallaigh?”

At first, I don’t see her from all the students gathered in that part of the cafeteria. But then a few of them walk away and there she is. Nuala, getting red in the face, her hands balled into fists as she gets in the face of some scary looking shifter.

“That’s your problem, not mine,” he snarls at her. “I’d rather have a filthy Scion on my team than you.”

I press my lips tight, feeling as if I’m eavesdropping on a private conversation.

“Fine,” Nuala snaps, “I’ll just do it by myself then.”

And she turns on her heel and starts walking away, headed straight for where I’m standing.

I quickly look away, planning to pretend I didn’t notice her.

But not before she catches my eye and gets even more red in the face. She tries to rush past me. And it’s at that moment that I change my mind.

“Hey,” I call out to her.

She stops and shoots me a defensive look. I know her enough to be aware of the fact that she doesn’t want to be seen as a victim.

“Would you help me understand something?” I ask.

She raises her eyebrows slightly, the red in her face growing fainter.

“There’s, like, every type of food here,” I say as I motion at the counters stacked with pot roasts, breakfast burgers and pies. “But what about chocolate? How exactly are we expected to survive?”

For a second, she just blinks at me, before her mouth cracks into a smile and she motions for me to follow her. Without a word, she leads me to one of the glass cases that are always empty. But as soon as we come close, they appear. Rows upon rows of all sorts of chocolate delicacies, from delicate truffles to slices of layered chocolate cake.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s the work of this guy who, well, really likes chocolate,” Nuala explains. “The faculty has given up on trying to make him stop. He just always comes back and uses little tricks to make people blind to what’s in this case.”

I can’t help but laugh. “My kind of person,” I say as I open the case, grab the first plate I see and pile it high.

Nuala just watches me with an amused look on her face. “Have you already had lunch?” she asks when I’m done.

“Nope, this will be it,” I grin at her. “What was that fight all about?” I ask innocently as I start for the nearest empty table.

For a second, she just keeps standing there, giving me a hesitant look. Then, as if her body is released from some bond, she joins me, taking a seat across from me. “It’s nothing, really. We have this group assignment and we’re fighting about who gets to do what.”

My eyebrows shoot up before I can stop them. A straight-out lie, really? I clear my throat and choose not to acknowledge it. The road I pick is one that’s a bit more winding. “Tell me about it. But at least you’re not being shunned by everyone for being the absolute fucking worst,” I finish with a laugh.

“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning in as a spark of interest shows up in her eyes.

I let out a sigh as I take my runes in my hand and lift them up for her to see. “This is my first contact ever with something like this. And I’ve no idea what I’m doing. And it doesn’t make it any better that the students here have decided I’m untouchable.”

“Untouchable? How so?”

I smile a bit because she’s obviously relaxing. “I guess there aren’t that many people here who’ve been raised by humans.”

“No, I guess not,” she purses her lips, thinking. “But still, that’s fucking stupid that they’re shunning you because of that.”

I don’t say anything straight away. I can feel that the pause is pregnant. I just wait to see if she’s going to confide in me.

And she does. “I know how it is. That situation back there,” she says as she motions at the back of the cafeteria with a guilty look in her eyes, “it wasn’t about the assignment we were given.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We were divided into groups, but my group doesn’t want me working with them.”

“How come?” I ask, using my gentlest voice.

She opens her mouth and immediately closes it, shaking her head. “I guess they’re intimidated by all this awesomeness,” she says as she gestures at herself. “Who wouldn’t be?”

And it’s obvious she’s not telling the truth, but I decide not to push it. I just give her a chuckle and change the subject.

“Hey, do you know if the Academy keeps records of the stuff that people send to students here?”

Nuala thinks for a second. “Not sure, but what do you need that for?”

“It’s grasping at straws really.” I hesitate in between bites of the deliciously decadent chocolate cake. “I’ve had some stuff left to me here at the Academy. But they came with no note and there’s nothing there that I could use to identify the person, or people, who left it to me.”

“Hm.” She reaches out her hand and takes a chocolate truffle from my plate. I smile at her, pushing the plate to the middle of the table. “There’s the Archives. Maybe you could ask there. I can come with you if you want.”

For a second, I just look at her, surprised that a single sentence could make me feel this warm around the heart. That it could make all this so much less frustrating. “That would be great!” I finally say. “How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” She almost chokes on that little bite of chocolate she took. “I don’t think anyone from the faculty will be working tomorrow.”

“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “How so?”

She just looks at me for a moment. Then her eyes widen and she lifts her palm to her forehead, saying in a hushed voice, “Of course I was supposed to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I demand, my eyebrows pulling down.

“Tomorrow,” she starts, still making a face to convey how sorry she is, “we’re all required to show up for the Selection for the Trials.”

Chapter 7 - Quinn

The next morning, I wake up with a spring in my step. Sure, I’m about to have some tree decide whether I’m worthy of participating in what everyone just calls the Trials. Nuala told me it’s this tournament spread throughout the school year. And I’ve read up on it myself, concluding it must be so much fun, considering there are no prizes whatsoever, just a serious chance for the participants — the Chosen — to get either brutally maimed or brutally killed.

But it’s not like I’d ever be selected for something like that and this just happens to be the first day since I got here that I don’t feel all alone. So as I walk out of the castle, I’m practically skipping.

All Nuala told me was to find the statue of the Frog King and follow the path that runs along the brook until I see the Tree. Normally, I’d probably have a lot of trouble with that. But I just follow the people, thinking if we’re all required to participate, there’s no other place they could be going to.

Of course, I’m right. The little groups of students lead me straight to this enormous tree by the spring, where there’s already a huge crowd. It’s colorful but orderly somehow. It’s only on second glance that I realize it’s because it’s very structured. There’s the Pied Piper to the left of the Tree, towering over other professors, some standing still and some chatting casually. And then there’s the audience that’s made up of, I don’t know, parents? Dignitaries? I’ve been reading like crazy, but looking at them sitting there in their lavish outfits just makes me acutely aware of how little I still know about the Originals’ culture.

Still, even if I didn’t spot Nuala waving at me, I’d know where to go. The students waiting to get tested are forming a line that runs along the side of the brook, most of their faces alive with excitement.

I walk up to Nuala with a smile on my lips. “I don’t know about you,” I start as I stand to wait next to her, “but I think this whole thing is barbaric.”

She raises her eyebrows as she awkwardly pats me on the shoulder. “It hasn’t even started.”

“Yeah, but making us get up before nine…”

She chuckles. “I thought you Scions all work from nine to five.”

I let out a laugh, letting my eyes sweep over the crowd. “That’s just a song, Nuala. But now what?”

“Now we wait.”

“Alright,” I say, watching the others exchanging excited little comments as they shift from leg to leg.

It makes me pity them. Whoever gets selected won’t be able to refuse to participate. Of course, after Nuala told me that, I went online to check if it was really true. That they can just force you. But it is. There’s a heated discussion about the ethics of the whole thing. Like, is it okay to put students in potentially deadly situations without their consent? I myself would say hell no.

But I wasn’t in the least surprised when I saw one old interview with the current Pied Piper, then Professor of History Johanna de Groot. The conversation mostly revolved around politics. Whether the Scions should be scared of the Originals after the so-called Blood Moon Incident. Whether the Originals are using their powers to steer elections in directions that are favorable to them. And so on and so forth.

But at one point, the journalist asks Professor de Groot if she thinks the Trials should be banned. She laughs. Of course she does. And then she says, “I don’t think we were ever more in need of the Trials than we are now. And anyone who says otherwise doesn’t understand the true nature of our two worlds intertwined.”

It’s a cryptic answer, for sure. And I have no idea what to think of it, at least for now. My instinct still tells me it’s a stupid, barbaric thing, but hey, it’s not like anyone’s asking me.

“What exactly are we waiting for?” I turn to ask Nuala.

It’s at that exact moment that I notice a stir among the crowd.

“Him,” Nuala whispers in my ear. “We’re waiting for him.”

But my eyes have already been drawn in his direction. It’s the prince Andreas Faust in the flesh, slowly making his way to where we’re standing and stopping to greet the people in the audience.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Does everything around here revolve around the Little Prince?” I ask, mocking the Dark Prince nickname.

I hear Nuala let out a weak laugh. “No,” she says, “not him, his uncle Baldor.”

It’s only then that I notice a tall, gray-haired man walking next to him. He has a lavish cloak thrown over his shoulders, the left arm clad in some kind of armor and the hand resting on an ornate walking stick. As he approaches, everyone scrambles to get up and bow to him, even more than his nephew.

“He’s the Regent,” Nuala leans in to explain. “The one in charge of things until the prince turns forty.”

“Why forty?” I ask, but I don’t turn to look at her.

“That’s when the Originals come of age.”

“Mm.” I keep staring at the royal duo until they’ve almost reached our line. At one point, I see the prince notice me, but choose not to acknowledge it. Taking my cue from him, I focus all my efforts on avoiding his eye.

But in doing that, I catch his uncles’. The two of them are just about to walk by when Faust Senior notices me and stops. A frown forms on his forehead. His nephew squints, his eyes darting between the two of us in what seems to be confusion.

Then, to my surprise, the uncle takes a step towards me and lowers his upper body in a ridiculously formal bow. By the time he straightens to look me in the eye, I feel countless pairs of eyes on us and I’ve no idea if I’m supposed to bow as well.

“Young lady, why do you look so familiar? Have we met?”

“I hardly think that’s possible, uncle,” his nephew answers in my stead, his voice smooth and bored, as if he wasn’t caught by surprise just a second ago.

I turn to him. But he’s not even looking at me as he adds, “Until a month ago, the young lady hasn’t spent any time around us.”

I feel myself start to fume. Where the fuck does he get off?

“That’s true, Your Majesty,” I say in the warmest yet most solemn tone possible, but I’m making sure I’m only looking at the uncle. “And it’s my own misfortune, to only now be acquainted with someone such as yourself.”

I notice the darling nephew’s eyes dart to me and linger, but the uncle lets out a delighted chuckle.

“Does that mean that you’ve been raised among humans?” he asks. To my surprise, the tone is perfectly normal. Welcoming even.

“Yes, she has,” the prince drawls as his eyes avoid mine, sweeping over the crowd instead. “And I know what you’re thinking, uncle, but there’s no chance you’ll see her fighting in the Trials. So there’s really no point in us wasting our time here.”

“Yes, make haste,” I reply flatly, with only a touch of mockery in my voice, even though I’m downright fuming as I watch him turn to keep walking.

But his uncle stops him with a glare. He turns to me and says in a warm but scolding voice, “I apologize for my nephew’s behavior. Despite all the effort I put into his education, I apparently failed to teach him basic manners.”

Faust Junior scoffs, turns back and looks straight into my eyes. For a second, I freeze, not knowing what to expect.

One corner of his lips curled into a sexy smirk, he dips his head and slowly bows with his hand sweeping forward in a single exaggerated, smooth movement. For a second, my heart stops beating entirely, until it starts again with a violent pounding.

“Now, was that so difficult?” I hear his uncle say as he turns to give me a smile and another curt bow himself.

I’m still breathless, dizzy from staring straight into his nephew’s eyes for so long, so I only manage to nod back before the two of them take their leave, the prince joining some of his groupies to the front of the line. Of course, no one bats an eye.

In the meantime, Faust Senior makes his way to the Tree. Now that I give it a closer look, I see that its bark has elaborate carvings in the shape of the crests of the three royal bloodlines.

The uncle nods to the Pied Piper and the rest of the professors, turns to the audience and clears his throat. Instantly, all the chatter dies down. I guess he’ll be the one giving the speech.

“I have always found it fitting…” He’s smiling, but his voice is carrying a touch of nostalgia. “For the Selection Day to be on the day of the Fall Equinox, a time when Darkness starts encroaching on the land of Light.”

He pauses for a second and all I hear is absolute silence. When he speaks again, his voice is filled with pride. “After all, that is what we Originals are. The Divine’s persistent struggle for life.”

Using his walking stick, he leans forward a little and raises his eyebrows at the people listening to him with bated breath. “And once a year, we get the opportunity to display our power to the world and convince it, once again, of our imminent victory against Darkness.”

I can feel he’s got everyone around me mesmerized. And I can’t blame them, the man has a presence.

“Therefore,” he says, raising his voice as he teases the anticipation, “there is only one thing I have to say to you on this grand, auspicious day…”

There’s a silence filled with excited tension.

“Bring your Academy, your bloodline and yourself honor.”

The crowd breaks into thunderous clapping.

“Wow,” I lean to whisper in Nuala’s ear. “So dramatic.”

But she just throws me a smile as she joins in, clapping just as furiously as everyone else. And I guess we’re no longer waiting for anything, because the student that’s first in line, a vampire girl with a pixie, moves and walks up to the Tree.

After a moment of hesitation, as the crowd draws in a breath, she places her hand on the carvings on the bark.

I stand on the tips of my toes to see what happens.

Nothing.

After a few moments of silence, the girl lets her hand drop to her side and turns on her heel with a devastated look on her face.

There’s no reaction from the crowd but a few sympathetic looks. “What’s going on?” I ask Nuala.

“She wasn’t chosen.”

“And she’s disappointed. I’d think she’d be relieved.”

“It’s a great honor,” she tells me with a shrug.

But the next student is already in front of the tree. Not chosen.

Then another one. Not chosen.

Not chosen.

And so on and so forth, until Sarya walks up to the tree, throwing a smile at the rest of her trio over her shoulder.

“Ugh,” Nuala says. “A Viper.”

“What’s that?”

She snorts. “It’s not a ‘what’.” She points to Sarya and rolls her eyes. “The Vipers are this clique whose members just happen to win the Trials every single year.”

I open my mouth to ask how, but I notice a stir among the crowd. I turn to look at Sarya, who’s already placed her hand on the carvings.

And they’re glowing. It’s a bright blue light that wraps itself around her wrist and then disappears. But when she turns around, it looks like she has a new tattoo where the light touched her skin. A thin, dark circle.

“And what’s that?” I whisper to Nuala without taking my eyes off the girl’s hand.

“That’s the mark of the Bond,” she leans to whisper back. “When you’re chosen for the Trials, you basically sign a contract you can’t get out of.”

“Holy shit,” I blurt out. “So that’s how they make sure you participate?”

I turn to look at her, but her eyes are still fixed on the procession. She doesn’t say anything, she just nods, looking tense as fuck. Maybe she actually cares about this.

“Maybe it’s a good thing then,” I start, staring at her so she’ll look my way. When she does, I throw on a grin, adding, “That I’m so useless at this whole ‘being an Original’ thing. So far, the only thing I can use my runes for is breaking up the monotony of my outfits.”

She does laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Wow, this must be a huge deal.

I watch as some of the other familiar faces get chosen. Harry. Zelda. Even Leo, who turns to the crowd to get an applause, his eyes stopping on mine for a second.

And even though most other students seem to just want to get it over with, it’s all taking such an incredibly long time. And just when I think I’m going to blow my brains out, there’s another stir in the crowd. It’s him, it’s his turn, I know it even before I turn my eyes back to the tree.

I’m right, of course. I can’t help but stand on the tips of my toes again, moving my head left and right to get a better look at him.

He’s taking his time, walking up to the tree as if he’s the only one there, as if there aren’t a whole bunch of people still waiting for their turn. I hate him for it. But I also don’t mind getting a better look at him. It’s so simple, the way he’s dressed, but it oozes luxury and elegance. Just like his entire presence, every move of his toned but slim body.

Even the way he places his hand on the tree is regal. He makes the act a lot more solemn, a lot more suspenseful than it was with the other students. I can’t help but draw in a breath.

And just as I thought, the blue light appears and wraps around his wrist, leaving the tattoo behind.

The silence is broken by an almost violent sound of clapping. I glance around to see that even Nuala has joined in. For a second, I stay still. There’s a part of me that’s pissed. Sure, the prince is someone whose parents died tragic deaths when he was still a little boy. That was part of the reason he became my obsession when I was in high school. But other than that, he’s had everything handed to him on a silver plate. Of course he’ll be chosen for something like this. It’s not surprising and therefore, it’s not at all impressive.

But of course, he’s the one people will clap for the most. Not some poor student who’s made it against all odds. Because apparently, there’s at least one thing that the Originals have in common with the humans. The fact that we don’t value accomplishments. We value status.

Still, I clap with the rest of them. This is neither the place nor the time to show the world how bitter I can be about some things.

The prince walks to the other side of the Tree, where the Pied Piper is putting flower wreaths around the necks of the Chosen.

A couple of more wreaths get used and before I know it, it’s Nuala’s turn. I throw her an encouraging glance, not knowing what exactly to cheer for, her being chosen or not.

But when nothing ends up happening and she makes her way to the back of the crowd, where the unworthy are standing, I’m no longer confused about it. She has a sour look on her face that tells me she really did want this. I also realize that I kind of expected her to get chosen, despite the fact that I know nothing about her powers. Nothing whatsoever.

But I don’t have time to linger on it. It’s my turn so I slowly start making my way to the tree, fighting to keep my legs from shaking. I can feel eyes on me and it makes it hard not to fall apart, just the thought that his might be among them.

And I’m pissed at myself. He’s mocking me and I’m still finding him so hot. Pathetic, Quinn, just straight-up pathetic.

To my surprise, that all disappears as soon as I come near the Tree. From a distance, it doesn’t look like much. But up close, it makes me feel things I don’t know how to put into words. Like it’s the first thing I’ve ever seen. Properly at least. I lift my hand and I place my palm on its bark. I’m not even thinking about the Trials. I just want to touch it.

And when I do, I feel this soothing energy course through my body. Like there’s peace beyond peace, sight beyond sight.

It startles me, that’s how big of a contrast it makes to this calm energy, when I see the light appear in the hollows of the carvings. And when it wraps around my wrist, all I can do is draw in a surprised breath.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

That’s all that’s going through my mind as I walk up to the Pied Piper, lowering my head so she can put the wreath around my neck.

There’s a strange look in her eyes as she whispers, “You surprise me, little mouse.”

She uses the same pet name she used when she kidnapped me to this place. But I find her ridiculously intimidating so I don’t say anything. My body can’t make up its mind so it does something between a nod and a shrug before I fix my gaze on where I’m supposed to go next. I join the other Chosen, turning to face the crowd, but not before I catch Faust looking at me with surprise in his eyes.

And sure, it’s fine for me to not have expected this. But the Little Prince? How dare he.

So instead of showing how I really feel, which comes down to a mix of confusion and sheer terror, I force myself to throw him the smuggest smile I can muster. I see him shake his head slightly before he looks away. Doesn’t matter. I’ll make him eat his words.

“It is a fine number,” I hear the Pied Piper’s smooth voice boom, “twenty four. Let us congratulate our Chosen, as well as the one I’m putting in charge of all of them.” She turns to give the prince a smile. “This year’s Ringleader, Andreas Faust.”

My head snaps in his direction and I see his lips curl into a smile as he waves at the audience, who are now clapping and cheering like crazy. And just like that, my own smile slides right off my face.

Chapter 8 - Quinn

Ispend the day after the Selection in a sort of haze, my eyes darting to the tattoo on my wrist what feels like every two minutes. I keep expecting it not to be there. It’s only late at night that I meet up with Nuala for dinner. And as soon as I spot her, waiting for me in front of the cafeteria, I see that her spirits are still low.

She doesn’t even get anything to eat. Sitting in front of two plates, one for dinner, one for dessert, I throw her a worried glance.

“You know,” I start, convinced she just needs a change of perspective, “I did some catching up with the previous Trials today, just to see what I’ve gotten myself into. And last year, this fae girl stepped on the wrong spot in the Arena…” I lean a bit forward, dropping my voice to a whisper. “And got spiked to death. Just like that.”

“I know,” she says flatly. “I was there.”

“Oh, of course you were,” I reply, but I’m still surprised by her reaction. “Anyway, my point is, I’d give my left tit just to be able to say ‘No, thanks’ to all of that.”

And I finish with a light laugh, but Nuala’s face just turns to stone.

“You know how many times I’ve heard someone say that?” she says, bitterness lacing her voice. “And you know how many times it came from someone who wasn’t chosen? Zero.”

I feel my eyebrows pulling down. “Are you seriously mad at me for being chosen?”

She just looks at me for a second. “What’re you talking about?” There’s no more bitterness in her voice, just confusion. “Oh shit, Quinn, sorry,” she says and face-palms herself. “I mean, I don’t really like it that you got chosen, but only because you yourself don’t seem to be thrilled.”

I just wave my hand, showing that it’s all water under the bridge. “Then what?” I insist. “Do you really care about it all this much?”

“I don’t,” she says with a shake of her head. “I mean, it involves a lot of fighting. And believe me, I don’t even like having to watch. That girl you mentioned earlier?” She leans a bit forward, as if she’s embarrassed. “I was there, but I was covering my eyes the entire time.”

“So what’s the problem?”

She huffs out a breath. “You know I have six brothers.”

I nod.

“Well, what you don’t know is that all six of them,” she says and rolls her eyes, “are these amazing shifters who won a lot of the Champion Titles while they were here.”

“Ah,” I just say, slowly nodding to show how much I get it. I lean a bit forward so I can give her a slap on the shoulder. “But you just have to keep training. I’m sure you’ll be able to compete with them someday.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No, really, don’t worry about it. I was just being stupid, letting these pressures that have nothing to do with my own wishes mess with my head.”

She stops to throw me a grin. “And I’m sure we have much more important things to talk about,” she adds as she motions at the poster on the wall to her right.

They’re everywhere, not just in the cafeteria, and they’re showing silhouettes of a woman and a man dancing. And when I say dancing, I mean actually dancing. Apparently, they cast spells on their posters here, just to make things a bit more interesting, I guess. And the bottom of the poster says, in large block letters, Winter Solstice Ball.

“What if I don’t want to go?” I ask.

“I think you’d be the first,” she laughs dryly. “And why wouldn’t you want to? I mean, people will be fighting to take you.”

I scoff. “Yeah, I can already see them lining up. Oh, wait, nope, still ignoring me,” I finish with a laugh.

But Nuala is shaking her head. “There’s an order to these things. First there’s the Showing of the Chosen,” she says as she starts counting on her fingers. “Although we generally just call it Showing. That’s tomorrow. Then on the night of the Blood Moon, which is sometime in November, there’s the Favorday, when other students ask the Chosen to the Winter Solstice and Grand Balls. And believe me, you’ll have a hard time fighting them off.”

I laugh. “I’m sure that will be true for the rest of the Chosen.” As I say it, an image pops into my mind, of Faust being surrounded by fawning girls. “But I’ll still be an outcast.”

Nuala just looks at me for a second and then lets out a laugh. “It’s not about popularity. It’s a power grab really.”

“A power grab? How come?”

“The Trials,” she starts in a more serious voice, “they used to be a much bigger thing because people believed the Chosen, especially the Champion, received blessings from the Divine. But even these days, if you come out a winner, people know you’re going somewhere. And there’s a lot of media pomp, so even being the date of the Chosen comes with a lot of prestige.”

“Holy shit,” I blurt out, grabbing my forehead with my hand. “That’s the last thing I need, people asking me out with media pomp on their mind.”

“It’ll be fun, trust me.”

She says it with such a sad face that my heart breaks a little. “Can’t I just pick you as my date and be done with it?” I ask with a grin.

At least that makes her laugh. “No, someone has to ask you,” she replies, still laughing. “Not the other way around.”

It’s only later, when I climb up to my room, that I remember my mission. I’m reminded of it as soon as I fling the door open and find that same bunch of books waiting for me there.

At least this whole thing with the Trials has made me forget for two whole days about the fact I still don’t know who left them to me.

But it also makes me pissed at myself. For being so absorbed in the books that I didn’t take enough time to explore the Academy or to get myself more familiar with the way things work here, including the Trials. And I’d say I was also pissed at myself for not taking the time to meet more people, but I wouldn’t even if I tried, considering how suspicious everyone’s being of the ‘human-bred girl’.

Still, I’m pissed enough to decide to just stop with the whole madness. I need to fucking move on and I’m fucking tired of having to hop over piles of books every time I need to go to the bathroom. And I know I have at least some storage space in this room.

So I get to work. I start picking them up and shoving them into drawers and closets I haven’t even had time to inspect until now.

As I work, I find a few things left over by the previous tenants. Scrunchies. Candy wrappers. Cheat sheets for everything from History to Runes.

And one really old-looking diary. Leather bound, with metal scales around the edges. I pick it up, meaning to open it and find who it belongs to.

But as soon as I touch it, it sends shivers down my spine.

And not just that. It implants in my mind the image of some girl I’m sure I’ve never seen in my life. I think that, by now, I can tell when someone is fae-blooded. She certainly is.

And by the looks of her, she’s no ordinary fae. She has a rich green robe with a lighter shade shawl thrown over her shoulder. Her hair is dark brown, almost raven, and she has the most elaborate hairstyle I’ve ever seen, all braids and expensive-looking hair jewelry. She looks like she may as well be some fae queen from days past.

I scratch my head, wondering how a figment of my imagination can be so full of detail.

Intrigued, I crack open the diary. But before I can read a single word, I hear a female voice drawl, “Excuse me.”

I drop the diary, its weight almost crushing my foot as my head snaps in the direction of the voice. There she is, the woman I just saw in my head, standing a few feet away and throwing me a funny look.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your nose out of my private diary,” she says, not giving a single fuck about the way my mouth drops open.

Chapter 9 - Quinn

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out as I pick up the diary, my mind having trouble making peace with the fact I’m apologizing to what seems to be an apparition.

“It’s alright,” she says, looking at me with suspicion in her eyes. “As long as you put it down.”

Very carefully, I place the diary on my desk and take a single step towards the woman. The differences are subtle, but there’s definitely something weird about the way light reflects off her body.

“Take a picture, why don’t you?” she says dryly.

“I’m really sorry,” I repeat absentmindedly, my mind racing. “It’s just,” I start, not really knowing where I’m going with it. “I guess I’ve never seen anyone...” I struggle to find words that wouldn’t offend her. “Like you before.”

She ignores my words. “How did you get here? Did you use the Pull?” she squints at me, barely moving a muscle as she carefully takes in her surroundings.

“How did I get here?” I let out a little laugh. “How did you? Are you a genie or something?”

That makes a little laugh escape her lips as well. “Genie. Seriously?”

“Sorry,” I apologize, again. I take a cautious step towards her. She doesn’t seem dangerous and she’s actually quite young. Twenty five tops. “I don’t really know much about all this crap.”

“And I guess you have a foul mouth as well.”

“Hey,” I protest. “It’s you who showed up in my room uninvited. I don’t think you have the right to tell me how to speak.”

“This is my room,” she snaps back, but she says it under her breath and without looking at me, as if she’s mulling it over.

I frown. “I don’t get it. This room was assigned to me and it was empty when I got here.”

She squints at me, like I’m the intruder here. Then I see her eyes dart to a spot behind my back. Just as I turn around to see she’s looking at the calender above my desk, I hear her say, in a lower, more insecure voice, “That’s the year we’re in?”

I turn back to her and nod, frowning.

I see the surprise in her eyes. Without a word, she straightens and tries to tap one of her runes. Nothing happens. “So I must be dead then,” she says as she locks eyes with me again.

She says it in such a flat voice that I can’t help but feel a weird sort of admiration for her. “Dead?” I hear my voice echo her words.

“There’s no other explanation,” she says as she takes another step closer to me. “What did you do?”

The tone of her voice is accusing. And that pisses me off. “What the fuck are you implying?”

“Calm down,” she commands me. Commands. “I didn’t say you killed me. As far as I know, I may have died of natural causes. But I’m almost positive that it was you who brought me here.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I can’t help but yell at her as I grab the runes hanging around my neck. “See these? I couldn’t use them if my life depended on it. How the hell do you think I’d be able to make them summon some self-important ghost?”

For a second, she just looks at me. Then, to my surprise, the look in her eyes softens. I swear to god she almost smiles before she says, “Alright, no need to excite yourself.”

She turns around and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. “However, I am some sort of ghost and it’s obvious that you’re the reason I’m here.” I just keep standing there, confused as fuck.

After a moment of silence, I see her eyes light up and she turns to me to ask, “Is there something you need? Something that might have brought me here to you?”

I frown. This I did not expect. “Um,” I start, but then burst out laughing. “I don’t know why any of it would have anything to do with you.”

Without taking my eyes off her, I sit on the chair in front of my desk. She doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me with that commanding expression on her face.

“I guess there’s a lot of things I need right now. I need to learn how to use these,” I start as I motion at my runes, “mostly because I need to survive the Trials.”

“So you’ve been chosen. Alright,” she drawls. “And?”

“And when I first got here, there were these books waiting for me, but I’ve no idea who left them to me because the magic can’t be traced.”

Even before I finish, I see a spark of interest in her eyes. “Really? And you found no note, nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“And when you touch them, nothing happens?”

I frown and then shake my head.

“Curious,” she says, tilting her head in thought. “It might be either of the two. The Trials or the books. Let’s start with the books. That one might be quicker.”

I can’t help but straighten in my chair, excitement shooting through my body. “Really? You could help me figure it out?”

For the first time since she appeared in my room, the girl smiles. “I wasn’t the most powerful fae in my generation for nothing. However…” She looks deep into my eyes. “There will be some magic involved. And you said you’re unable to use your runes.”

“I’ll find a way,” I rush to say, my voice filled to the brim with eager determination.

Chapter 10 - Quinn

First thing in the morning, I rush to the House of Lycan to find Nuala. My mind is buzzing with possibilities and I can’t wait to do the spell to find out who left me all the books. The ghost girl Moswen’s instructions were clear, but I still take the diary with me, just in case we need her again. And I suck at magic and Nuala’s not even a fae and I’m not what you could call a lucky person, so I’m not sure how it will all turn out, but I have to try. My friend’s not in her room, so I head straight for the cafeteria.

“You’re not even going to have breakfast?” she asks me when I rush up to her and tell her I need her help with something.

“Nope, too excited,” I say. “Couldn’t even sleep.”

“In the name of Lycan, Quinn,” Nuala shoots me a worried glance. “It sounds serious,” she says as she gets up off her chair. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me find the Greenhouse,” I reply as I tug on her sleeve to make her go faster.

The Greenhouse is where faes have their Meditation classes. I haven’t been there yet because I’m still in the more basic program. But it turns out Nuala knows exactly where it is, so I follow her down a couple of excruciatingly long hallways until one of them opens up onto a winding staircase.

At its very top, there’s an ancient looking door that opens with a nauseating creak. And just like that, we find ourselves above ground, in a huge glass structure bursting at the seams from the ridiculous amount of trees, bushes and plants.

I stop for a second, looking up at the huge glass dome and inhaling a scent so intoxicating, I think I might topple over. “Holy fucking shit, this is just…”

I turn to Nuala, my eyebrows raised and my mouth open in awe, but she just stands there with her arms folded and her lips pressed tight. On our way here, I told her everything about my discovery of Moswen and her plan for my next step.

Let’s just say that Nuala does not approve.

So I just throw her an apologetic look. “Let’s go find the thing,” I say and start walking again. I take out the piece of paper I’ve scribbled the info on. “The Wynnach Thorn.”

“So it’s some kind of flower?” Nuala asks as she follows me down a gravel path and deeper into the Greenhouse.

“Moswen said it’s a shrub,” I answer, stopping to show her the image I found online. “And we only need one leaf.”

“Okay,” she just says, but I can still hear the disapproval in her voice.

It doesn’t take us long to find it. We stumble on what seems to be a round workspace with rows of Wynnach Thorns in ornate pots. And there’s a large wooden desk with all sorts of tools left lying on its surface.

“This is perfect,” I almost yell out as I walk up to one of the pots, grabbing a pair of small garden shears from the table and crouching in front of the plant.

“Moswen said to be careful,” I say without turning to look at Nuala. “Each leaf hides a little thorn that can be deadly if it pricks your skin. And it finds a way to prick it because, well, that’s what it does.”

“Maybe you should be careful about Moswen, too,” I hear my friend reply. “I wouldn’t believe everything that that ghost of a woman says.”

I don’t say anything. I simply don’t want to continue the argument we had on our way here. It’s enough for me, the fact that I trust her, even though I’m not sure why.

So I just clip a leaf off the stalk and jump back up, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s try it.”

“I don’t understand how it’s supposed to work,” Nuala says, squinting at my hand.

“Patience, dear Fionnuala,” I drawl, the combination of her full name and my regal tone of voice making her chuckle. “Grab that bowl and pour some water. Chop chop.”

While she does that, I take the stuff I brought with me out of my backpack. I place one of the books on the table and pour some ink into the bowl of water my friend places in front of me.

“First I need to do this,” I say as I crack open the book and place the leaf, thorn side down, on a blank page of the book.

I feel Nuala leaning in, but my eyes are fixed on the leaf. I draw in a breath as soon as I see it start squirming, as if it has a mind of its own.

With bated breath, I keep watching until it settles. Slowly, I flip its tip over and see the thorn’s managed to dig into the page. “Success,” I yell out as Nuala lets out a happy squeal.

“Now what?”

“Now I do this.” I take the bowl in my hand, draw in a breath and pour it all over the two blank pages in front of me. They drink it all up thirstily.

But nothing happens. I frown. “The thorn is supposed to start feeding off the leftover energy of the person who used the book. And the ink is supposed to give shape to it so we can get some kind of hint.”

“I don’t see anything,” Nuala states the obvious.

“Maybe we need to wait.”

“Why don’t you try using your runes?”

I don’t say anything. I just throw her a look.

“Alright, sheesh, sorry.”

“Moswen said there’s not a lot of spells that would work without runes, but this plant has its own magic, so I was supposed to be able to pull it off anyway.” I let out a deep sigh, disappointed that nothing’s happening.

“Someone just walked in,” Nuala says. I look up to see her sniffing the air.

I don’t even have time to turn around before I hear a familiar voice drawl, “Who do we have here?”

I turn around to see Sarya walking up to us. Instead of her usual overalls, she’s wearing a gorgeous red dress.

“Hi Sarya,” I say flatly, hearing Nuala let out a frustrated sigh to my right.

Sarya stops and squints at the table behind my back. “Is that Little Miss Chosen trying to do magic?” she asks with a mocking laugh. “Now that’s something I’d like a ticket to.”

I shrug, determined to ignore her stabs. “Sorry, we’re all sold out.”

“But seriously,” she insists as she starts pacing in front of the two of us. “I’m not surprised that this one,” she says, gesturing at Nuala, “didn’t get selected…”

Before I can react, Nuala cuts in, her voice filled with anger. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Sarya does stop pacing and turns to look at Nuala, but then just lets out a chuckle. “Have I offended you, oh powerful shifter?” she asks mockingly. “Should I be afraid for my life?”

With the corner of my eye, I see Nuala push her chest out and draw in a pissed-off breath, so I decide that we’ve had enough of this nonsense.

I grab my friend by the upper arm and say. “She’s just being an asshole, Nuala. Let’s go.”

“Asshole?” Sarya gets in my face, anger filling her golden eyes. “Watch it,” she hisses, making both Nuala and me freeze in place.

When she continues talking, her voice is light yet menacing. “After all, you’ll be in the Trials with me and there’s a lot that can go wrong in moments like those.”

Fighting the need to gulp, I raise a finger of my right hand to signal to Nuala not to react.

“Is that so?” I ask flatly, finally daring to take a step back. I need to get the book, Nuala and myself out of here as soon as possible. But a part of my focus has to be on Sarya’s hands, just to make sure she doesn’t have time to use her runes.

I turn around and I reach for the book I was using for the spell. But that only draws her attention to it.

And she’s fast. She’s fucking fast. Before I can react, she’s already slammed the palm of her hand onto the open book. “The House Olarel sigil? Where did you get this?” she asks with a frown.

My eyes dart to the book and I see that its pages are no longer blank. They have an ink stain in the shape of a black bird on them. A raven, I think. But I don’t say anything. I immediately turn back to Sarya. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business,” I snarl, my patience wearing thin. “Let go of the book.”

She just grins at me. “So it is something interesting?” Without breaking eye contact, she snatches it from the table.

I ball my hands into fists, but I don’t manage to do anything else.

“You fucking bitch,” I hear Nuala yell out as she lunges at Sarya as if she wants to knock her to the ground.

To my surprise, she actually does it. Sarya comes crashing down with a loud thump.

The book lands a few feet away from her and I jump to pick it up while I still have the chance. I hear a strange, loud noise. By the time I stand straight and turn to the two of them, Sarya is standing up, reaching for her runes, while Nuala’s squinting at her, waiting for the attack.

But then a clock sounds from somewhere and Sarya drops her hand to her side.

“To hell with your fucking book,” she spits out. “I was just sent to tell you to get your ass to the Main Hall. Now you’ve made me late.”

With that, she huffs out a breath, turns on her heel and walks out of the Greenhouse, the tail of her dress trailing after her.

I turn to my friend, who’s still panting slightly. “The Showing?” she asks.

“Shit, I forgot all about it.”

“Apparently,” Nuala says in an absent voice.

What great timing, I think to myself as I rush out of the Greenhouse. I’m definitely in the mood to be paraded around like a puppet. It’s not like I have much more important shit to deal with.

Chapter 11 - Quinn

When I get to the Main Hall, I see it’s been cleared out for the event. Instead of the usual bunch of armchairs, couches, desks and low tables, now all l can see is a podium with rows of high tables stretching before it. There’s a huge crowd already gathered around the table with just one person seated, a guy in a fancy suit who seems to be the host having his make-up retouched. It’s only after I barge in that I realize that the Showing is the kind of thing people dress up for.

Me? I’m wearing my usual jeans and sweater combination, complete with my signature combat boots. Compared to the rest of the students there, I look barely a shade better than homeless. While the girls are wearing tight-fitting dresses and ludicrously high heels, the guys are all in tuxes.

Including Faust. There’s a million people here, but it doesn’t take long for my eye to be drawn to him. And it knocks the air out of my lungs, how handsome he looks. For a second, my eyes linger on his waistcoat. It has the Ouroboros, the snake eating its tail, embroidered on it.

And of course, the paparazzi Nuala warned me about are all gathered around him. I take a deep breath and, fighting the shaking of my legs, I go straight for the bar. They’re forcing me into this, but if nothing else, I can do it my way. Not drunk. Just tipsy enough for it to take the edge off.

I already have my hand on the champagne flute that’s patiently waiting for me on a tray on the counter, when I feel the need to turn around.

It’s the Little Prince himself, looking at me with that unreadable expression on his face. “I thought the text I sent out was simple enough for anyone to understand.” His voice is low and stern. “To report to me as soon as any of you arrive.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You were busy with the paparazzi.”

I struggle not to avert my eyes, my heart skipping random beats. He doesn’t reply. He just looks me up and down and says, “And that’s what you’ve decided to wear?”

Fucker. “So it would seem,” I drawl, mocking him. “Given that that’s what I’m wearing.”

There’s a flash of a frown before his face goes back to doing that stupid thing where it gives nothing. “Suit yourself. But I’m putting you last,” he says as he turns his back to me.

“Please, don’t,” I beg mockingly, but he’s already walking away.

Vaguely pissed, I go back to my champagne flute. The event seems to be starting, because there’s that guy who was having his make-up done walking up on stage. He gives a brief, but excruciatingly boring little speech about how pleased they were at his news station to be given the honor of blah blah blah.

With the corner of my eye, I see that most of the paparazzi stay close to Faust even as the first girl is being called to the stage to introduce herself.

Shit, will I also be expected to answer stupid questions like ‘What will be your main motivation throughout the course of the Trials?’

Scanning the groups of people, I notice Professor Mistila standing to the side, seemingly alone. I don’t think she’ll recognize me, but she teaches History, which means she’ll probably know something about the House Olarel. And just like that, the fog in my brain clears and I have my eyes on the prize again.

I take my flute with me and I walk up to her. “Professor Mistila…”

“You do realize there’s such a thing as office hours,” she cuts me off and looks away, taking another sip of her drink.

It’s only when I’m in front of her that I notice how flush her cheeks are. I guess even vampires can get drunk off regular champagne. “I’m sorry, Professor, I just have one question.”

“I swear to Lilith’s blood,” she says as she lets out a laugh, “if I had a penny for every time a student spoke those words to me…”

“Fair enough,” I reply. “I’ll leave you to it then. And I hope you enjoy the event.”

I’m already turning to walk away when I see her throw me an intrigued look. “Wait,” she says.

And I listen.

“You’re not here to ask me what questions are going to be on the test.”

I just shake my head, my lips pressed tight and my eyebrows raised slightly.

“I’m listening.”

I give her a smile. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about the House Olarel.”

She lets out a laugh. “Not less than what would easily fill three large volumes.” She stops to look deeper into my eyes. “You do know that that’s one of the more powerful fae-blooded families in all of our history?”

“What can I say?” I shrug my shoulders, hoping to charm her into forgiving me this trespass. “I haven’t been among the Originals long.”

“Interesting,” the professor leans forward, taking me by the upper arm.

I can barely contain my excitement. She looks as if something has awoken in her, possibly the thought of finally having an audience interested in what she had to say.

“Well, first of all,” she says as she takes me for a slow stroll around the Hall, “you do know that some of the Original families are so ancient, we can only guess how long they’ve been walking this earth?”

I had no idea, but I’m nodding vigorously.

“For example,” the professor continues as she motions at the crest on the wall high above our heads, the one showing the Ouroboros, “the House Faust is one of them.”

Of course it is, I think to myself. But what I say is, “And I’m guessing the House Olarel is another.”

“Smart girl,” she says, throwing me a wink.

I let out a chuckle. “And?”

“Given how old they are, it comes as no surprise that the earliest histories of each of those houses are shrouded in mystery. But while most scholars dismiss them as nothing more than myths…”

She stops and locks eyes with me. I just look at her, nudging her to go on. “I say even myths can be based in real life. After all, before the Brothers, the Scions thought that we were nothing more than figments of their imagination,” she finishes with a chuckle.

I nod thoughtfully. “So what’s the House Olarel origin story?”

I’m more interested in its recent history, but I’m taking my time. I want to learn everything this woman wants to tell me. And she looks more than willing, already opening her mouth to share her knowledge.

But of course, it’s at that exact moment that someone taps me on the shoulder. “Quinn?”

I turn to see a girl with a name tag looking at me impatiently. “It’s your turn.”

“Already?” God damn it, I think to myself. Just as things were getting interesting. “Will you excuse me for just a moment,” I turn to say to the professor. “I really want to hear everything you were going to say.”

“Of course, dear, I’ll be right here.”

I let the girl lead me to the front of the Main Hall and straight onto the podium. There’s a lot of camera flashes as I take my seat, but they actually come in handy because they make it hard to see the people gathered in front of me, all waiting for me to talk about myself. In part because I don’t want to know if he is still preoccupied with his own paparazzi or if he’s watching the other students’ introductions.

“Tell me, Quinn,” the guy who’s interviewing me flashes me one of those practiced, dead smiles that don’t reach the eyes. But not before he looks me up and down, judging my outfit. “Is that really your name? It’s a bit unusual for a fae-blooded girl.”

I let out a laugh. “It wasn’t until a month ago that I found out I was a fae, so...”

“Really?” he says, throwing a glance at one of his colleagues. I feel the chatter around me die down a little. “How supremely intriguing. But you do have experience with magic? It would otherwise be difficult to imagine you being chosen for the Trials.”

Oh, I hate him for asking that, but I’m definitely not going to let it show. “Let’s just say I still have a lot to learn,” I reply, choosing a diplomatic answer.

He flashes me a smile with zero kindness, like a predator licking his lips before his prey. “I’m sure your fellow students are helping you with that. But there are a lot of them here with skills that are simply out of this world. How do you plan to win?”

“I don’t,” I say, letting out a laugh. “My goal is just to survive.”

I can tell he’s not happy with that. He was expecting something juicier and he’s prepared to work for it. “So you’re not an ambitious girl, are you, Quinn?”

I look away, shaking my head as I fight to keep the smile on my face. And I already have some bland, non confrontational answer in mind, but then my eyes land on his. He’s standing to the side, but he’s staring at me intently. As if I’m some annoying bomb he’s supposed to prevent from going off, the son of a bitch.

“I guess I believe,” I hear myself say as my heart starts pounding, “there’s more to ambition than trying to win an inconsequential competition I didn’t even want to enter.”

“Careful,” I hear a warning boom inside my head. It almost makes me jump up. In the back of my mind, I notice the shift in the atmosphere that my words have caused, people drawing in shocked breaths and shifting on their feet. But I don’t care, because I’m staring straight at the prince, the one who just used his powers to get in my head. And I’m pissed. I move to get up off my chair, but the journalist scrambles to keep me there.

“So your ambition, in fact, exceeds trying to beat the Originals of Grimm Academy?” he asks, as if it would be physically impossible to say yes. “What would it be, that noble goal of yours?”

I plant my ass back on the chair and throw him an incredulous look. “Off the top of my head,” I reply, failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, “learning to use my powers for the greater good. Something along those lines.”

Fuck, I’m fucking this up, I think as I stare into the journalist’s eyes. He looks like I’ve just given him everything he wanted. And then some. “Thank you for the introduction,” I say, trying to salvage the situation. “I’m sure you have a lot more contenders to talk to.”

“Actually, no—”

But I’ve already gotten up and am rushing off the podium, the cameras flashing violently in my face. As I try to find Professor Mistila, I make a point not to look anyone in the eye. I’m avoiding one pair in particular.

The professor is right there where I left her, squinting at me with an unreadable expression on her face.

But before I can approach her, he appears right in front of me. It’s so sudden, I almost bump into him. “Follow me,” he snaps, his voice so commanding, I just do what he says.

He leads me to the side and when he turns to face me, his body is really close to mine and his nostrils are flaring. It’s the only hint on that terribly composed face that he’s, well, not pleased.

“Had your fun?” His voice is low and controlled, at least on the surface. Underneath, things are brewing.

But I guess when it comes to him, I’m insane. While my brain tells me to find a way out of the situation, fast, other parts of me want nothing more than to see where this would go. Just a little taste, that’s all.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, using my most sarcastic, condescending voice. “Have I offended you somehow?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Alright, then get to the fucking point,” I hiss at him.

For a second, he just stares at me. “My point is…” He glances around and then flashes me a fake smile as he speaks in a low, threatening voice. “In the future, you should either respect our traditions or shut the fuck up.”

My eyebrows raised, I let out a little laugh. “Yes, my prince,” I say as I sweep my arms and drop my knees in a mocking bow, something like what he did to me. “Anything else you require?”

I see a flash of surprise in his eyes. But I don’t wait for him to snap out of it. I just turn on my heel and walk away.

It’s only then that I see a bunch of girls standing close, huffing and puffing as they watch my every move.

I don’t give anyone else the chance to come between me and Professor Mistila. She looks as if she’s trying her hardest not to let it be known that she too was watching my interaction with Faust.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Professor,” I say as I walk up to her, half expecting her not to want to talk to me again.

“Tell me, Quinn,” the professor says in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, “what exactly made you come ask me questions about the House Olarel?”

For a second, I hesitate. There’s something in her tone that wasn’t there before. But I don’t have a bad feeling about it so I decide to tell the truth. “Someone left me these books. I don’t know who and I don’t know why. The only thing I do know is that one of them belonged to someone from that house.”

The professor stays silent for a moment. Slowly, her eyes light up and she whispers in an excited voice, “I thought there was something about you.”

Chapter 12 - Quinn

“What the fuck?” Nuala asks, her mouth dropping open.

Can’t blame her. I myself am not just shocked. I’m even a little bit scared.

“How is that even possible?” my friend asks. “How can you be a descendant if the House Olarel is extinct?”

We’re in the cafeteria, sitting in front of our plates, both piled high with burgers and french fries that remain untouched as I recount everything Professor Mistila told me.

“She says it’s the only possibility,” I reply, looking around to make sure no one can hear us. I’m not ready for it to go public yet. “Apparently, the Olarels were known for being extra protective of their stuff. And there’s no fucking chance in hell anyone outside the House would ever be able to get their hands on any of it.”

Nuala just looks at me stupidly.

“I know,” I say under my breath. “It’s fucking insane. And I understand I couldn’t have just appeared out of thin air. I just didn’t think my father or mother would turn out to be a member of some all-powerful house.”

For a second, I look away. I’m feeling so much all at once that I can’t even begin to untangle individual emotions. Never in my life, not even right after I got sent those books, have I seriously considered the possibility that I might not be alone in the world.

“So now what?” Nuala snaps me out of it.

“I’ve no idea,” I confess. “I guess the Archives would be a good start. Maybe I can find my family tree there or something.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Thanks, Nuala,” I say, “but I have to warn you. I’m leaving as soon as I’m done eating, and you know how fast I can be.”

She lets out a chuckle, but I can tell she’s taken me seriously by the way she digs in. It takes us less than ten minutes to inhale all the food and rush out of the cafeteria.

And I know Nuala doesn’t exactly like spending time in the library, but that’s where the Archives are. We have to go down a gazillion steps and pass three different security checks, the Librarians waving these weird-looking wooden wands in front of us to make sure we’re not carrying anything flammable or generally dangerous.

Once we’re inside, I go through the main hall and straight for the plain door with the label saying Archives. I’ve been here many times already, so the novelty of seeing all the glass walls overlooking the inside of the ginormous cave has worn off. But it still gives me the chills, actually being able to see how deep underground we really are.

The room is just as plain as the door leading to it. From the inside, it almost looks like one of those evidence rooms you can see in crime shows. It’s just boxes of files crowding rows upon rows of dusty shelves. They’re all marked with names of the different houses. Byrne, de Groot, ó Maoilriain… My heart is heavily pounding as I search them with my eyes.

“No Olarel?” I hear Nuala ask.

“No Olarel,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “What the fuck?”

But I’m not wasting any time. I go back to the main hall and straight for the ornate solid-wood counter where there’s a shifter Librarian slapping stickers onto a pile of books in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” I ask hesitantly. “I’ve just been to the Archives, looking for information on the House Olarel.”

“You won’t find it there,” he says without even looking up. “It’s all in the Olarel Room.”

An entire room just for them, I think to myself as my lips curl into a smile. Bingo. “Where can I find it?”

“It’s sealed off so we can do some restoration work,” he replies, still not even dignifying me with a look. “No one’s allowed to enter.”

Fuck fuck fuck. I turn around to see Nuala waiting for me by the shelves. And I see by the look on her face that she’s heard everything. I throw one more glance at the Librarian and go to her.

“Don’t worry about it, Quinn,” she whispers. “We’ll come back as soon as it’s open again.”

Easy for her to say, I think. She’s always had a family, always known her real name. And maybe it’s a stupid thing to do and I’m still scared as hell, but I have to try. “No. Let’s go find it.”

She throws me a funny look, but she doesn’t say anything. She just follows me down several hallways leading from the main hall and into separate sections of the Library. It’s fucking huge so it takes us a long time to come across the right door.

I know it’s the one we’re looking for even before we read the tiny label saying House Olarel. It’s simply because there’s a huge warning sign placed on the polished stone floor in front of it.

I don’t hesitate, but before I can take a single step, I feel Nuala’s hand on my shoulder and I hear her whisper, “It could be dangerous. Who knows what kind of magic they used to seal it off.”

My heart is throbbing. Stupid, you’re being so fucking stupid, I think to myself, but I push Nuala out of the way, walk around the sign and turn the door handle.

There’s a quiet click before there’s silence again. And just like that, the door is open.

My heart doesn’t stop pounding even as I turn to my friend and throw her a shaky smile. “See?”

But when we step inside, my mind goes blank for a second.

“Holy,” I hear Nuala start and immediately break off.

To my surprise, the Olarel Room isn’t a room full of books containing the information on the House Olarel. It’s an empty space with ancient-looking wallpapers that have the family tree painted on them.

“Wow,” my friend drawls as I walk to the left side of the room, where the tree begins.

At the top, there’s the name Olarel painted on a yellowed scroll with the family motto below. Sight beyond sight, it says in a cursive so ornate, it’s practically illegible.

And right below the motto, the family tree begins, featuring stylized portraits of the members of the House with numbers that seem to be too small to denote births and deaths. But then I remember what Professor Mistila told me.

“It says here,” I say to my friend as I stare at the portrait of a sullen fae-blooded man, “that the first member of the House was born in 52 AD.”

“52? I thought it was 53,” she says absentmindedly, her voice echoing through the empty room. “But he’s not technically the first. Just the first we know of.”

I nod, my eyes still fixed on the portraits of people that, on close inspection, look a lot less human than I do. I take a step closer to look at the woman by the name of Namys who was born in 127 AD, died in 486 and had a forehead as tall as the rest of her face.

If I came here under any other circumstances, I’d take my sweet time and get a good look at each and every one of those ancient faces. But right now, I’m too eager. Too desperate. That these people are my family, that fact I’m still struggling to accept, but it doesn’t make the urgency I’m feeling any less, well, urgent.

So I walk past the first two walls and stop where the family tree ends, somewhere in the middle of the third.

“Are those your parents?” Nuala asks when she walks up to me.

We’re looking at the portraits of two faes, one man and one woman, who seem to be the last of their line. I draw in a breath as I read their names and the numbers telling me when they lived.

“No,” I just say, disappointment in my voice. “They both died in the eighteenth century. Even if they did have a child and that child wasn’t included in this tree, it couldn’t be me.”

“Bummer.” That’s all she says, but I can feel her eyes on me.

“Yeah…”

Is that really it, I wonder. Another dead end? But I can’t tear my eyes away from the wallpaper. It’s only when I find myself staring at the blank space where the portraits of my parents should be that I notice the pattern. Those birds that are featured on the crest of the House of Ydril. The ones that brought out a memory I didn’t even know I had. The ravens.

“You know what?” I turn to face Nuala. She’s just waiting for me patiently. “I don’t think this can be it. I’m going to ask Moswen,” I add, determined as fuck as I open my bag to dig out the diary, throwing one look around to make sure we’re still alone.

“You’re carrying that thing around?” my friend asks with surprise in her voice.

“Of course. It’s too valuable for me to just leave it in my room. And she did tell me to open it if I ever needed her.”

Nuala opens her mouth to protest, but it just stays that way when Moswen appears in front of us, throwing me an annoyed look when she sees my friend there. “I don’t remember giving you permission to turn me into some spectacle.”

“Nuala is my closest friend here and she won’t say a word, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I plead with her.

“That’s right,” Nuala nods.

“And I really need your help.” I motion at the wallpaper behind me.

“The Olarel Room?” she asks after she glances around. “I swear on the Holy Word itself, if you’ve called me to help you with some History assignment…”

I shake my head, rushing to explain, “The books I got, they belong to someone from this House, which means…”

She cuts me off, a look of surprise in her eyes, “That you’re a descendant.”

“Exactly.” I nod, happy that she’s just confirmed what Professor Mistila told me.

“I…” Moswen breaks off as she just stares at me.

“But there’s a slight problem with that theory,” I add, ignoring her dumbfoundedness and pointing at the last two fae-blooded people featured in the family tree.

“I see,” she replies in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper. I wait for her to continue, but she just keeps staring at the wallpaper with a funny look in her eyes.

“Well?” I ask, not even trying to hide my impatience. “What do you think is going on here?”

She slowly walks up to the wall to inspect it. “I see magic residue,” she says, seeming to have snapped out of it as she traces her finger over a blank spot on the wallpaper, just below the last two portraits.

“So there’s something there that we can’t see?” I hear Nuala giving voice to the question in my head.

I draw in a breath.

“Yes,” Moswen replies under her breath. “However, the magic is too strong for you to break it,” she says as she turns to look at me.

I feel my heart sink into my stomach, but I protest regardless. “I know I’m shit with my runes, but can I at least try?”

“You want to die?” she says in a tone that actually sounds scared, giving me the chills.

And all of a sudden, after finding a single glimmer of hope, I find myself in the dark again, my shoulders slumping.

“Is there nothing else she can do?” I hear Nuala ask and I turn to give her a weak but grateful smile. “She just wants to know who her parents are.”

My head snaps back to Moswen, who’s looking at me with such a pained expression, I’m sure she’ll say no.

And she doesn’t sound pleased, but she gives a quick nod. “I guess there’s one thing you can try.”

“What is it?” I blurt out, hopefulness straining my voice.

She points to a spot left of the door. “What’s on this wall right here?” she demands.

“Um, nothing.”

She shakes her head. “Incorrect. Look at it and think of the Mirror.”

“The Mirror?” I ask, confusion pulling my eyebrows down.

Nuala cuts in, frowning at Moswen. “As in… the Snow White Mirror?”

Moswen nods.

“You’re joking, right?” I ask, even though she looks dead serious.

“Look,” she starts, ignoring my surprise, “your House was always stirring up the pot, which meant a lot of enemies…”

I raise my eyebrows, hungry to learn literally anything about them.

“So sometime in the ninth century, one of the members created a magical mirror to serve as sort of advisor to the Olarel family. One who knows all the family secrets and would never spill them to anyone else. One only an Olarel would see, of course, with the help of Sight.”

“Right,” I drawl, still skeptical, “so I won’t just be having some mirror lie to me that I’m the fairest of them all?”

Nuala lets out a chuckle, but Moswen doesn’t think I’m being funny. “No, that fairy tale grossly misinterprets what actually happened. But that doesn’t matter right now,” she waves at me impatiently. “Turn to the wall and try to see it.”

“Alright,” I mutter as I do what she tells me.

“Go, Quinn,” my friend cheers me on.

And it all feels a bit stupid, but I still close my eyes and try to picture the Mirror, at least my own version of it.

“Quinn?” I hear Moswen say.

I open my eyes and turn to her.

“I’ll need you to keep your eyes open for this part.”

“Oh, right.”

And I do keep them open, but I just end up stupidly staring at the empty wall.

“Can you feel it?” I hear Moswen ask. “What do you see?”

“I don’t see anything,” I reply, frustration already building in my chest.

“No,” she cuts me off, but there’s patience in her voice when she continues. “You don’t, but there is no you. There’s only the choice to see or not see. Choose the former.”

I nod and I ball my hands into fists, determined to make it happen.

Seconds go by.

“And?” Moswen asks. “What do you see?”

“I don’t know,” I squeeze out, the effort making me feel strangely drained. “Maybe some kind of veil?”

“Alright, that’s great.”

“Really?” I ask, incredulous.

She lets out a chuckle. “Yes. Now all you need to do is to tear it down.”

“Easier said than done,” I say with a sigh, straining my eyes as much as I can.

But nothing happens.

Then it hits me. The thought makes me shudder simply because I know it’s right. I remember the Tree, the one that made me feel like I’ve spent my entire life blind. And I use that memory to try to erase myself from the equation.

Almost instantly, the world around me turns sort of liquid. And everything seems to be flowing, the way that I somehow knew it was all my life, without ever becoming truly aware of it.

A part of me wants to stop to enjoy the moment. The first time I’ve ever successfully used Sight. But then the wall before me shimmers and a shape starts appearing, making me draw in my breath.

“It’s an actual mirror,” I blurt out.

“What did you think it would be?” Moswen asks from behind my back. And by the strange sensation between my shoulder blades, I know she’s just tried to push me to take a step forward.

And I do. I stand directly in front of the Mirror and I ask with bated breath, “Who are my parents?”

Nothing happens. I only hear a chuckle from behind my back. I turn to see Nuala trying to suppress it with the back of her hand.

My eyes dart to Moswen, who is dead serious as she shrugs. “You know, the Mirror is a vain creature. You don’t have to use any words in particular, but you at least have to address it.”

For a second, I remain speechless, only my eyebrows raised. “Seriously?” I ask. Then I turn back to the Mirror and fighting the urge to laugh, I say, “Mirror, Mirror on the wall…”

The Mirror shimmers in response, making me draw in a breath. Quick, Quinn, I tell myself. “Who are my parents?” I spit out breathlessly.

As I wait for the shapes to grow clearer in the Mirror’s surface, my heart threatens to jump out of my ribcage.

But it doesn’t take long for me to recognize the pattern. It’s showing me the missing part of the wallpaper.

And there they are, I think as I let out a shuddering breath. Syllia and Drannor Olarel, Syllia born in 1957 and Drannor 1956, no recorded year of death for either one of them.

“Holy shit,” I hear Nuala say, “Quinn, those are your parents.”

I feel dizzy. “What is my name?” I ask without looking away from the mirror, my voice filled to the brim with palpable tension.

This time, it shows me a piece of yellowed paper that looks like a birth certificate. It has the word Khuyin written on it. And unlike any of the countless words I’ve heard in my life, this one makes me want to laugh and cry, all at the same time.

Chapter 13 - Quinn

It’s a bleak morning in early November when I rush out of the cafeteria, barely saying bye to surprised Nuala. Taking two steps at a time as I climb the stairs to D7, I’m smiling, smugly.

It’s been almost two months since I found out who my parents are. Now, I’ve spent most of that time trying to learn more.

To be perfectly honest, one of the first things that occurred to me is how this might be a way for me to reconcile my two current identities, old and new. If I’m a descendant of some powerful family, maybe I’ve got land I could use to open my own shelter, somewhere much closer to the Academy. I almost immediately started daydreaming about going to work there on the weekends, having taken Charlie and the rest of the kids with me.

But the one thing I have learned is that there’s no land. As for the rest of my questions…

I’ve gone back to the Olarel Room, but the Mirror had no more answers for me.

I’ve dug through both well-known and obscure books, on the House Olarel, on famous faes, on the history of the Originals…

I’ve never told them why I’m asking, but I’ve even questioned every professor who teaches anything remotely related or could have personally known them.

So far, it’s all trying to convince me that the House Olarel really did go extinct. But I know the truth about the family tree, so it feels like someone tried to literally erase my parents from existence.

So in a way, I’ve been feeling like I can’t exist either. At least not here. Despite all my efforts, I’ve failed to find a loophole. I know I’m required by law to be here for the next four years, but I hoped that the faculty could make an exception for me. Not a chance in hell, as it turns out.

But this morning, Nuala and I were talking shit about the professors and she got all weird when I started commenting on Professor Byrne. Telling me to chill because that man helped get her mischievous brothers out of trouble so many times, her family will be in his debt for all eternity.

That made me think. By the way he talked about things, I always thought that Professor Byrne was a newcomer at the Academy, which is exactly why I haven’t asked him if he knew my parents.

But that’s all about to change because I’m on my way to his class. I might even get in a bit earlier, which would mean I wouldn’t have to wait for him to finish the lecture to ask what I’m dying to know.

The door to D7 is open and I can already hear the loud chatter coming from within. It’s the biggest classroom because Theory of Magic is something you have to take regardless of your bloodline. Which equals a lot of students.

When I walk in, I see that they’ve all already claimed their spots at the two-seat wooden desks placed in neat rows. They’re talking amongst themselves, but it’s all a lot more civil than it usually is because the professor, as it turns out, is already in. He’s at the pulpit, hastily scribbling something in his papers.

I smile and walk straight up to him. He raises his eyebrows as he looks up at me from his writings. “Morning, Quinn. Can it wait ‘till we’re done with the class?”

“Of course,” I blurt out, trying to hide my disappointment.

I turn around and go for one of the desks to the left of the pulpit. I sit next to a shifter girl whose name I don’t know. We nod to each other and I turn to stare at the blackboard when I hear my phone ping.

“Where are you?” the text says. The sender is just a string of numbers.

For a second, I frown. Then it hits me. Faust. I’ve already received a couple of his texts in our group chat, including the one he sent yesterday about some meeting that they’re probably finishing right about now. But I haven’t saved his contact. Out of some kind of childish spite, I guess.

But to think that he’s gone and sent me a private message… It sends a rush of excitement through my body, making me feel strangely lightheaded.

I force myself to tear my eyes away from the text and lock my phone. I can’t think about that right now. I have something important to focus on.

When Professor Byrne finally finishes his scribbling and greets us all, I almost thank him for the interruption. “Today we’re going to have another one of our little experiments,” he says.

Isn’t that just perfect, I bitch to myself. It’s been almost three months since I found out I was a fae, but despite all my training sessions with Moswen, I still don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to Magic.

“You’ll be working in pairs,” the professor continues with absolutely no regard for my feelings. “Start by looking in the drawers under your desks.”

I throw the girl sitting next to me a glance and we smile at each other. She opens the drawer and pulls out a plain wooden box.

“Come on, open it,” the professor’s voice booms. “You only have one hour to finish the assignment and you first have to figure out what it is,” he finishes with a wink.

As usual, he looks amused as he starts walking between the rows of desks, watching what we’re doing.

I turn to my partner, who pauses for a second and then lifts the box lid. Out floats a seemingly metal ball full of little holes. It slowly levitates to our eye level and stops.

Just as I’m about to throw my partner a confused look, a flock of ridiculously tiny birds shoot out of the holes and start circling the ball.

“Maybe we’re supposed to get them all back inside?” I whisper.

Before she can answer, the door flings open and I feel the air being knocked out of my lungs. Because I see him walk in.

“Ah, Your Majesty, how good of you to join us,” the professor cranes his neck, motioning for him to find an empty seat.

He doesn’t sound sarcastic at all, despite the fact that the Little Prince is in this class, yet has never once graced us with his presence.

So what the fuck is he doing here, I scramble to make sense of it, watching him scan the room as he walks.

Shit, I scold myself when he catches my eye.

To my surprise, he stops for a split second and then stalks straight up to my partner, sending my heart racing. He leans to whisper something in her ear. I don’t hear what he says, but he’s smiling, one hand casually placed on her backrest. I see her blush and get up, walking away to find another seat. As soon as she’s gone, he slides into her seat and then turns to look at me. The smile is gone. He seems to be controlling himself, but it’s plain that he’s pissed off. And he seems to be waiting for me to speak.

My heart still pumping wildly, I just mouth, “What the fuck?”

“Exactly, what the fuck?” he snaps, keeping his voice low, but not quite enough.

“Now that you all have your assignments in front of you…” I hear Professor Byrne start.

I turn to look at the professor, fighting the shaking of my treacherous limbs, but the prince doesn’t let it go. “You going to pretend you didn’t get my text?”

“...who can tell me…”

My finger pressed firmly to my lips, I snap my head in his direction to shush him.

“...what the House of Lycan crest has to do with the theory about types of Magic?”

But now I can feel Faust staring at me, trying to get me to look at him. With rushed, angry movements, I open my notebook and I write, “I’m NOT talking to you right now. In case you haven’t noticed, we're in the middle of a class.”

My eyes are back on the professor, but I can tell he’s read it. He scoffs and leans back in his chair, folding his arms in protest. I don’t react. I try to pay attention to the exchange between Professor Byrne and the other students, but he’s making me so self-conscious, tapping his fancy shoes on the floor and thrumming his stupid fingers on the desk. I have to fight the urge to shift in my seat, smooth out my hair, lick my lips.

For a moment, I manage to focus on the words of the nerdy fae-blooded girl, probably about the third person trying to answer the professor’s question.

“The light side of the Moon on the crest signifies the spirit and the dark side signifies the body. Some say that this is one of the earliest understandings of the existence of Physical and Mental Magic.”

She goes on to talk about the uniqueness of the House of Lycan, at least from the perspective of shifters being the only ones that truly embody more than one type of Magic. And if things were different, I’d be gobbling that shit up.

But I’ve never been this close to him, at least not longer than three seconds. And I’m feeling just as breathless as the second he walked in. It’s just that, now, I can add to that a growing ache in my thighs and between my legs, urging me to keep glancing at him. I fight it, keeping my gaze fixed ahead. But even with the corner of my eye, I can see his immaculately white shirt and the way his muscles are straining it. And whenever I look down, there are his hands, the long fingers fighting for my attention by doing that pissed-off thrumming thing with deliciously deft movements.

Snap the fuck out, I tell myself. This is a royal asshole you’re drooling over. And just as I think that, the fae-blooded girl stops talking and Professor Byrne takes over.

“Thank you for that lovely summary, Aywin,” he says. “Now, the point of all this, including the assignment, is to make you more aware of the thin lines between Physical and Mental Magic,” he continues as he takes a stroll between the rows of desks. “The birds you see before you are just echoes of actual birds, but real enough for you to be able to control them as either mind or matter. And the assignment,” he stops walking, pausing for effect as he so often does, “is to make them all return to their little nests at the same time, using whichever methods you have at your disposal.”

The professor pauses again, throws us all a smile and says, “Go.”

Almost instantly, the students around me break into a chatter as they get to work. Everyone except the two of us. I just focus on the assignment before me. I squint at the birds, hard, trying to make myself do the only thing I can. Use Sight.

Of course, he doesn’t let me. He leans in and demands, “Ready to talk?”

I don’t turn to look at him. I pretend I’m engrossed in what I’m doing as I say, “No. But if it’ll help me get rid of you…”

“Oh spare me,” he scoffs. “What was so important you had to miss the mandatory Trials meeting?”

I let out a deep sigh and decide I’m not letting him distract me. I turn back to the birds and I manage to invoke Sight. The scene before me turns liquid and I can see the little strings tying the birds to the ball.

With the corner of my eye, I see him snap his fingers at me.

I throw him an annoyed glance. “The text said it was a Favorday party etiquette meeting.” I Iet my hand dart to my runes, checking if maybe I’ve unlocked one of them. “How was I supposed to know it was mandatory?”

“Is Favorday part of the Trials?” he demands.

“It is,” I begrudgingly admit. “But I mean, really,” I rush to protest, “in what parallel universe would I need to know whether to bow in front of the Archduke?”

“The parallel universe called tonight’s Favorday party,” he snaps at me. “In case you didn’t know, sometimes parents decide to come to this event and some of those parents are really high up on the ladder. But I guess you simply don’t care whether you embarrass us all.”

I can’t stand it anymore. The arrogance. I turn to throw daggers at him. “Not true. I just don’t care whether I embarrass you.”

He gets in my face. “Well, I don’t give a fuck,” he snarls. His knee is pressing into mine and sending a shock through my body, making me move to pull away. He doesn’t let me. He grabs my wrist and makes me face him. “You will behave.”

For a second, I just stare at him. “Fuck. You,” I say as I break free.

I turn my eyes back onto the birds, but I can tell he’s throwing daggers at me. I’m not letting him distract me, I repeat to myself.

I ball my hands into fists and try again. But now I’m so pissed, I can’t even use Sight, let alone do anything else.

I hear him let out a bitter scoff and get up, the chair scraping against the weathered hardwood floor. I force myself not to look up as he walks away.

But then I hear Professor Byrne say, “Your Majesty, you haven’t finished the assignment.”

I hear said Majesty walk back to my desk and stop right in front of me. When I look at him, his eyes are already fixed on the birds.

Without so much as a frown scrunching up his face, he almost instantly makes them all stop flying. The very next second, they all get sucked into the ball. I draw in a breath, watching the light coming from the ball flicker and go out.

“There,” he snaps as he turns to the professor. “It’s finished.”

Then, without so much as throwing me a glance, he leaves the classroom so quickly, it’s like I watch him get sucked out.

After he’s gone, I spend the rest of the class waiting for it to end, fuming.

As soon as the bell rings, I elbow my way through all the students leaving the classroom to catch the professor before he’s finished packing up for the day. “Professor Byrne…”

He looks up and says, “Yes, Miss Longborn,” in a voice that’s warm but a little absentminded.

“I just have one question for you,” I start with bated breath, trying to catch his eye as he goes back to shoving papers into his overflowing attaché. I catch a nod instead. “Do the names Syllia and Drannor Olarel mean anything to you?”

This gets his attention. “Olarel?” he frowns as he stops packing and straightens up, scratching his neck. “Sure, there was a Syllia Olarel who is now best known for her dabbling in Divine Magic.”

“Yes,” I rush to say, “but she lived in the sixteenth century. How about fifty years ago?”

The professor shakes his head. “There were no members by the name of Syllia after the sixteenth century. Or Drannor for that matter.”

“No?” I ask hesitantly. But he must have known them. They had to have gone to this Academy and he teaches a mandatory class, which meant that he must have been their professor at some point. I choose to push a bit more. “They would have been students here in the late 1970s.”

“No, I’m sorry,” the professor just says, shaking his head with a sorry look in his eyes. “If it were any other family name, I would have told you I couldn’t be sure. But the Olarels were a famous house. It wouldn’t have been possible for me not to know or simply to forget.”

My logic exactly, I think to myself. I nod and I say thank you, choosing not to push it any further. By the time I barge out of the classroom, Nuala is already waiting for me.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go to the Archives,” I tell the friend I was supposed to go to the next class with. “You don’t have to come with me,” I finish with my lips pressed tight.

And I head straight for the stairs, Nuala rushing to catch up with me. “But what else is there to go through? We’ve scoured all the books that could have anything to do with your parents.”

I stop walking and turn to face her. “No, not my parents,” I say with determination in my voice. “Professor Byrne.”

She stays silent for a moment, watching me with eyes full of surprise. Finally she says, “What? Why?”

“Because he’s telling me he doesn’t know who they are and I don’t believe him. I think they’re all hiding something from me.”

“Seriously?” she blurts out, but I’m too focused on my next step to want to discuss it.

So I just give her shoulder a quick squeeze and I leave her there. I’m already stomping down the hallway leading towards the Library when I hear her yell, “Just don’t forget the Favorday party is tonight.”

“Can’t fucking wait,” I snap back.

When I get to the Archives, I’m no less miserable. The last billion times I was here, I was focused solely on the House Olarel and its members. Right now, I choose to find records of all the professors who’ve ever taught here. It’s practically the only thing I know about Professor Byrne, but it’s as good a place to start as any.

I walk down an aisle dedicated to records of births, deaths, marriages et cetera. All the most boring stuff you could ever imagine. And at the end of the row, I finally see a shelf labeled ‘Grimm Academy Professors’.

Bingo, I think to myself as my eyes dart over the individual books, stopping on one titled Grimm Academy Professors 1900-1999.

Who knows how old Professor Byrne really is, but he should be mentioned here for sure. I pull the book out, struggling to release it from the grip of the ones surrounding it. And I crack it open, planning to start my search with the year 1900. But the book opens on 1983, where a single word has me frozen in place.

Olarel.

My mind racing, I read the first name. Drannor. And right below his name, another Olarel. Syllia.

I don’t move a muscle, but my heart is beating wildly.

Chapter 14 - Quinn

My mind is still buzzing, but more importantly, I’m pissed. I’m in Nuala’s room in the House of Lycan and the Favorday party is in half an hour, so we’re multitasking. She’s trying on outfits while I’m recounting my newest findings.

“Professors, Nuala,” I tell her. “My parents were professors here.”

“What the fuck?” Nuala asks, stopping to throw me a confused look. “But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s both good and bad,” I reply, fighting to keep myself from snapping. “It’s information I didn’t have yesterday, but it also makes the whole thing more complicated. More sinister. I mean, I’ve asked all the professors who were here back then. All of them. And they all said they’ve no idea who I’m talking about.”

Nuala turns around to get a comment on her latest choice. A simple sleeveless green dress.

I give her a low whistle, smiling weakly as I say, “I think we have a winner.”

“You think?” she asks, a shy smile forming on her lips.

I nod vigorously, but I’m intrigued. I myself have thrown on a simple black dress, just to avoid repeating what turned out to be such a horrid disrespect from last time. But Nuala is really putting in effort. Who is she so eager to impress, I wonder.

She takes a seat next to me and puts her hand on mine. “I know it’s all weird and frustrating as hell, but we have all the time in the world to learn what the fuck is going on.”

I give her a grateful smile and choose to snap out of it. I’m not looking forward to the party myself, but my only friend in this godforsaken place clearly is.

So I spring off the bed and I clap my hands. “You’re right, my dear Fionnuala. Now is the time to show those people what having fun actually looks like.”

Laughing and chatting, we soon barge into the Main Hall, where the party has already started. There’s a bar, a little fountain in the center, a corner with parlor games… But it’s the people that draw the eye. They’re all dressed even more lavishly than they were for the Showing. Me? I’m perfectly happy not standing out.

I grab Nuala and myself two pitchers of beer and we find a good spot in the center of the room, at one of the few high tables that aren’t already taken. I scan the Hall, recognizing only a couple of the twenty four Chosen. A certain someone isn’t here yet, or so it would seem. I down almost half of my beer, just thinking about him showing up at some point making me break out in cold sweat. I tug on the hem of my dress, sure that as soon as he lays his eyes on me, he’ll find something to complain about.

“Look,” Nuala jabs me with her elbow. “Sarya has been asked out by someone from my House.”

“How can you tell?” I ask, squinting to take a better look at her.

“See the corsage on her wrist? That’s moon vine.”

“Ah,” I just say, glancing around the room again. Most of the Chosen have either a corsage around their wrists or a boutonniere on their lapels. “So there’s only a few that are still available.”

“Including yourself,” Nuala whispers. “But not for long, it seems,” she adds with a chuckle as she motions at Leo staring at me intently from his table, looking handsome as hell even with the ridiculous sideburns.

I wave my hand in dismissal. “Nah, he’s saving himself for Prince Charming. You’ve seen how they flirt with each other, I’m sure.”

Nuala lets out a shy chuckle. “Even if the prince were into guys, which he’s not, he wouldn’t be into Leo. His type is thin, blonde, sophisticated.”

“Really?” I squeeze out, my eye immediately darting to the bunch of blonde girls I saw sullenly standing near the entrance. “I see you’re not the only one who knows that.”

“It is… known, I guess,” I hear her say.

For a second, I keep staring at all the blondes, natural or not, waiting for their Little Prince to show up. I don’t like what I feel so I make myself snap out of it and turn back to Nuala. “And who are you hoping to ask to the Ball yourself, young lady?”

She just shakes her head and looks at the empty pitcher of beer in my hand, saying, “I didn’t know you could drink so fast.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Nuala,” I reply with a grin.

It’s at that exact moment that I notice a shift in the atmosphere, people’s heads snapping to the entrance. I crane my neck and see him walk in, the blondes coming to life as they start fluttering behind him.

I can’t help myself. I try not to be obvious, but I watch him walk across the smooth polished floor, dressed in a perfectly tailored casual suit. For a second, I think he’ll march up to me to give my outfit an inspection or something, and my heart breaks into a gallop.

But he chooses to ignore me. He walks past without so much as a glance, joining a group of people at the other end of the hall.

I turn to keep chatting with Nuala, but she soon becomes too fidgety to lead an actual conversation. At one point, she declares that she has some business to take care of. I know she’s going to ask her secret sweetheart to the Ball and she apparently doesn’t want to talk about it. So I let her go without prying.

Once she’s out of sight, I fight not to look, but I fail, miserably. Faust is still standing in the same group of people, but now he’s surrounded by a whole host of gorgeous girls, not just the blondes. And my curiosity is getting the better of me. As I sip what’s left of Nuala’s beer, I find myself glancing at them, trying to figure out if there really is truth to what my friend said a minute ago, about his type of woman.

Not five minutes later, Leo walks up to me with a smirk on his face. “Well, hello,” he drawls, eyeing me up and down. Now that I see him up close, there’s something a bit creepy about him.

“Hello,” I reply, fighting not to let my reaction show.

“You know,” he says, “I never got the chance to thank you for rushing to my defense at the opening ceremony.”

And his voice is sweet and what he’s saying is really nice, but that look in his eyes makes me want to just… get away from him. But it’s too tempting, this opportunity to dig a little deeper.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say flatly. “I mean, as far as I could tell, the prince was being a giant asshole.”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. “So you don’t fancy him?”

I scoff. “No.” Squinting at him, I say, “But I did get the impression that the two of you have history.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Our families do.” He pauses before he says, “You see, it was my House, House Aalders, that was supposed to be on the throne.”

“But then his family,” I cut in, “intervened.”

“Exactly. But enough talking about the prince,” he says as he takes a black rose corsage out of his pocket and holds it out for me. “Let’s talk about the Winter Solstice Ball.”

He wants to take me to the Ball?

“Um”, I start, but all of a sudden, I have a strong feeling that I’m being watched.

I glance around nervously.

“Well?” Leo insists, licking his lips as he gives me a smile.

Now, I definitely don’t want to go to the Ball alone, but I just don’t like the guy’s vibe and there’s no helping it. “You know, I think I’ll have to pass.”

He looks honestly surprised and, well, not pleased, at least judging by the way the smile just slides off his face. But I don’t give him a chance to react.

I turn on my heel and I go take a stroll around the hall, beginning from the end farthest from Faust and his groupies.

I don’t get very far before I notice Nuala, leaning against the window closest to the entrance, looking down at her hands as she fidgets with her rings.

When I walk up to her and ask what’s going on, fearing the secret sweetheart has said no, she won’t say anything, but she doesn’t look happy.

Goddamnit, this night. “You know what, Nuala?” I say as I take a few steps to the side, stopping a waiter to grab two shot glasses off his tray. “I think a combination of shots and darts is in order.”

I make her throw back the shot with me. And then I take her by the upper arm and I drag her over to the corner with parlor games.

“Is this regular darts?” I ask without waiting for an answer. I just grab a dart and take my position. It makes me warm around the heart when I see her mouth crack into a smile.

It doesn’t take us long to forget about the world around us. I make the bartender keep bringing us drinks as we laugh our heads off trying to play darts while drunk as skunks.

At one point, Nuala jabs me with her elbow and says, “There’s a lot of eyes on us.”

“Of course there are,” I reply. “They’re all being stiff and I’ll bet more than half are uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, while we’re here actually having fun.”

And I honestly don’t care, but curiosity still overtakes me. As I glance around the room, I see a lot of the girls shooting us nasty looks. And just as many guys staring at me as if I were a glass of ice-cold water someone left in the middle of a desert.

One of them, a hot shifter, catches my eye and doesn’t hesitate. He immediately starts walking up to us.

“I saw you staring at me,” he says with a smile. “And I decided to do you a favor and introduce myself.”

This makes me laugh. Mostly because I’m drunk, but still.

With a smile followed by a wink, Nuala subtly excuses herself and I let the shifter by the name of Cormac chat me up. And he seems nice and it definitely doesn’t hurt that he’s ridiculously hot, but my eyes still keep darting to where Faust is, surrounded by his admirers. At one point, I see him with some vampire girl. Just the two of them.

And yes, she’s thin, blonde and sophisticated. He leans to whisper something in her ear and all of a sudden, I feel like I’m burning up.

“Anything I can do to make you look at me like that?” I hear Cormac say.

I snap my head back, frowning. “You want me to look at you with contempt?”

He laughs and takes a step closer. I’m a bit disappointed that the look in his eyes has no edge to it, but I still let him lean in to whisper, “To start, I’d settle for you letting me take you to the Ball.”

While he’s still saying it, I feel it again. The eyes on me. I nervously look around and I catch a glimpse of Leo disappearing into the crowd.

The feeling lingers, but I tell myself to ignore it. I shift my focus onto Cormac and I say, “Yes. I’d love to go to the Ball with you.

“What about now? Want to go somewhere with me now?” he whispers in my ear again.

I open my mouth to say I’m with my friend, but then I see Faust walking down the hall, the blonde vampire girl on his arm and a black rose boutonniere on his lapel. Once again, he doesn’t even glance at me.

So he’s actually picked her as his date for the Ball.

As soon as they’re out of the Main Hall, I turn back to Cormac and I nod.

He smiles, reaches into his pocket and puts a moon vine corsage around my wrist. “Just so everyone knows you’re taken.”

I give him a smile, I text Nuala and I let my date lead me out of the Main Hall and into one of the hallways with locked classrooms on both sides.

As soon as we walk around the corner and find ourselves alone, he grabs me by the waist and makes me turn to look at him.

I smile and he smiles too, but just as he starts leaning in for a kiss, his body tenses up and his face takes on a pained expression.

I freeze, opening my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but he just lets me go, grabs my hand and pulls the corsage off my wrist.

Frowning, I watch him pull away, throw the corsage on the floor and almost yell out, “No,” that pained expression still twisting his face.

Then he turns on his heel and starts literally running away from me.

Frowning, I remain standing there for a while, wondering if I’ve just witnessed someone using Mind Magic on my date for the Ball.

Nah, I finally tell myself. It must be all the beer and the shots messing with my head. But wow. The night could hardly have gone better than that.

Of course, at that moment, I don’t realize it’s not over yet. It takes me a while because Cormac and I have wandered off far from the House of Ydril, but when I get to my floor, I find something waiting for me in front of the door. A gorgeous box of chocolates with a little white envelope attached to it.

Frowning, I pick it up. For some reason, my heart is once again throbbing. I tear the envelope and inside, I find evidence that it might not have been all the alcohol after all.

A note written in elegant albeit forceful cursive.

“He would have bored you and you know it.”

Chapter 15 - Quinn

“Can’t we take a break?” I plead with Moswen as she stands to my side in the graveyard, watching me pant with my palms on my thighs.

“The First Round is in less than two months,” she says as she circles me, “and I know it’s hard to fit a lifetime of learning to use magic in a couple of weeks, but you’re barely making any progress.” She stops to throw me a look that’s at the same time nervous and urging. “We really need to at least get you to unlock your first rune.”

I let out a deep sigh and turn back to the target in front of me. The graveyard is where we come to train because Moswen doesn’t want to be seen. For fear of dark forces being at play here, I guess. But I can’t say I mind. The Grimm Academy’s final resting place has the benefit of total privacy, the unbelievably high hedges secluding it from the rest of the castle grounds. And it’s more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen, with crumbling mausoleums and overrun graves creating a sort of vine- and moss-covered maze wherever you look.

“Hey,” I hear Moswen scold me. “If you think I’m going to watch you just stand there like a mute...”

“Alright, no need to get your panties in a bunch,” I mutter as I turn back to the statue in front of me. It’s a statue of some powerful fae, at least judging by the fact he has five instead of just three runes around his neck.

But we picked this particular statue because of its tall pedestal. It allows me to place all the four Elements at eye level. A bowl of water, a rock, a lit candle and a bottle containing only air.

I muster all my determination, I activate my Sight and I try to connect with them, any of them. At least that’s what Moswen says should be my first step. The First rune is always the Element rune, but just like the rest of them, it doesn’t unlock until I make it unlock.

I stare at them like I’ve never stared at anything in my life, but nothing happens.

“You say I should be feeling a sort of connection with one of them.”

“Yes,” she cuts in. “Most faes only ever learn to manipulate one.”

“But I don’t see any difference between them.”

“Don’t look at the physical things,” Moswen urges me, “try to get to their essence.”

I take a deep breath and I try again. I try for another half hour, but it simply doesn’t work. Finally, I throw my arms up and I sit with a loud thump.

“Moswen,” I start, my voice deflated, “thanks for this, but I think I’d rather we try again tomorrow.”

“You won’t be doing yourself any favors.”

“And I will by continuing to fail like this?” I snap at her, albeit weakly.

For a second, she just looks at me funny. Then she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “In the name of the Holy Word, quit your moaning already. You’re an Olarel, which means there’s power in you. You should be embracing, not resisting it.”

I look up to throw daggers at her. “Sure, I’m the descendant of some fancy family, but that only makes it worse.”

“Enlighten me, please,” Moswen says with a quirk of her brow.

I shake my head as I look away. “I barely know anything about my parents. Even the Mirror only knows their names. But they were Olarels and they were professors here. So they must have been a couple of badasses.”

And I feel stupid for feeling that way, but it just makes me doubt myself even more, at least when it comes to using my runes.

“Look,” Moswen says, gliding to my side and talking in a softer voice. “I also had parents who were intimidating. So I get it. But ultimately, it’s not your parents holding you back. It’s just you.”

I nod, lowering my head to stare at the ground.

It's only then that the thought crosses my mind, making my eyebrows pull down. “Wait,” I say, looking up at her again. “When did you go to school here?”

“Why does that matter?” she asks, a frown forming on her forehead.

“My parents were professors here from 1983 to 2005. And I don’t know when exactly it was that you, well…” I pause, feeling awkward about mentioning her death.

“Died,” she says, in that flat voice that makes me want to kiss her and slap her at the very same time. “I can’t be sure when that happened, but yes.” She pauses before she adds, “I was a student here at that time.”

“And?” I ask, my eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets.

“I don’t remember being in any of their classes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But they were the Olarel teaching duo,” I insist. “You must have known about them.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” she cuts me off.

“What doesn’t work that way?”

She lets out a sigh, lowering herself on the ground in front of me. “I am Moswen, but not… all of her, I guess. The magic that keeps me tied to my diary only allows me to remember things that I’ve written down.”

I nod, feeling stupid for even thinking it would be that simple.

“Therefore,” she continues, “even if I knew them personally, but never mentioned them in any of my entries, I’d have no way of remembering it.”

“Goddamn it…” I say with a sigh.

Deciding to get back to work, I get up off the ground and fix my eyes on the Element stuff again. I’m a fae, I try to tell myself. I should be able to do this, however ridiculous it still sounded to me. And however scary I found the whole thing.

Seconds go by without anything happening. I try to imagine myself doing magic. Would I be taking control of the flow of water, using air barriers to keep enemies out, conjuring fire with my hands or getting rocks to explode?

I’m deep in my visualization when I hear Moswen let out a gasp.

My head snaps in her direction and I see her staring at a hole in the hedge around the graveyard, her ears pricked up. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” I say, but she doesn’t wait for me to catch up with her. She just glides away to take a peek through the hedges.

When she returns, she whispers, “Someone just saw me. A vampire.”

“Did he have sideburns?” I ask, thinking of Leo and how he used fucking mind magic on Cormac just to stop me from getting a date for the Ball.

She nods.

“I know him,” I say, balling my hands into fists. “He’s this guy who wanted to be my date for the Ball.” I don’t mention the thing with the chocolates. I’ve never told Moswen about it and I’m not planning on adding to her troubles.

“Quinn,” Moswen says, pointing at the statue.

I turn around and see the rock vibrating a little. Now when I look at it, I not only see into it, I feel it. Its stable, age-old energy.

The rock vibrates a little more, moves to the edge of the pedestal and falls to the ground.

I draw in a breath, my eyes darting to the runes around my neck. One of them now has a carving of a cross with a circle at each end. “The Element rune,” I whisper, but my voice is full of nervous excitement.

“That’s great,” Moswen replies with an anxious smile. “And your Element seems to be Earth. But I think we better go celebrate somewhere else.”

“What about my training?” I throw her a smirk. “Isn’t that like the highest priority ever?”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to stay chained to either my diary or you for the rest of eternity.”

“Yeah yeah,” I drawl mockingly as I pick the diary up off the ground and get ready to close it. “You better cool that enthusiasm or I’ll think you’re falling for me.”

My eyebrows shoot up when I see that I’ve almost made her laugh. It feels good, I have to say. The perfect moment to close the diary shut and see her disappear.

When I walk out of the graveyard, it’s still early enough to see the faint outline of the mountains in the distance, far behind the three towers shooting into the sky before me. I smile, knowing that Nuala will probably already be waiting for me in the cafeteria. And I know exactly what I’ll have for dessert, the cheesecake being one of the few things in this place that I always find myself looking forward to.

All that almost makes me miss it. This weird, violently negative energy and the stench unlike any I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know what overcomes me, but I find myself sniffing the air like crazy, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

The smell takes me down a gravel path leading from the cemetery and straight into a little grove. I walk inside and see a moss-covered bust on a pedestal.

Almost instantly, my heart starts pounding and without thinking, I take a step back.

But it’s not the bust that has that effect on me. It’s what I see splayed out on its crumbling pedestal.

Hearts. A blood-curdling, mushy pile of cut-out hearts. I shake my head, not even daring to think which species they belong to. But it’s over. I’ve already pictured a pile of dead people with all of their hearts missing.

Panicked, I take the diary out of my bag and open it right then and there, despite Moswen telling me never to do it anywhere other than my room and the graveyard.

She immediately materializes next to me and I can see her opening her mouth to scold me, but I just motion at the bottom of the bust.

I guess a part of me wishes for her to use that flat voice of hers and ask me what it is that I’m so shocked by. But Moswen just stares at the hearts, the uneasiness clearly visible in her eyes.

“Is it just me,” I start, my voice low and strained, “or is this… not good?”

“No, you’re right,” she says as she points at something I haven’t even noticed. Drawings that have been almost completely covered by the blood. “This is dark magic. Dangerous magic.”

“What is it…” I mean to say ‘supposed to do’, but I don’t. I don’t scare easily, but this keeps sending shivers down my spine.

“It’s dangerous,” she says, “that’s what it is.”

“I’m going to report it,” I reply, already turning to walk as far away from the place as possible.

“Don’t,” she blurts out.

What? I stop midstep and squint, looking straight into her eyes.

“I think,” she starts, obviously hesitating, “it could have something to do with your parents.”

The shock almost makes me topple over. “What?” is all I manage to squeeze out.

“I’ll explain,” she replies, “but first get me somewhere safe.”

I don’t even say anything. I just close the diary and put it back in my bag.

I’m already out of the grove when I see Faust Senior walking out of the graveyard. His eyes are already on me, his eyebrows pulled down.

He appears in front of me, immediately making me panic. “Young lady,” he starts, “you know that this part of the castle grounds is currently restricted.”

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” I squeeze out, realizing he’s not talking about the… thing that I just saw.

But he’s still squinting at me. “I thought I heard you talking to someone,” he says, gesturing at the grove behind me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “No, there’s no one there,” I reply, choosing the present tense to avoid lying to his face.

“Good,” he says, his eyes softening. “Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not a stickler for rules for no reason.” He pauses, throwing me a look filled with concern. “Especially with someone such as yourself.”

At least my heart’s stopped pounding in my chest, but now I raise my eyebrows at him.

“You’re new in our world,” he explains, throwing me a kind smile. “You still have no idea how much its balance depends on making sure you don’t overstep any lines.”

If I could do it without seeming suspicious, I’d breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, I give him a weak laugh and say, “Thank you, Your Majesty, that’s solid advice right there.”

I don’t know what’s made him amused, but he lets out a chuckle before he gives me a quick nod and turns on his heel, heading straight for the castle.

It takes all I have not to break into a sprint right then and there, especially with what Moswen told me stuck on repeat in my head. But I don’t want to walk with him, so I force myself to slow down.

Luckily, despite the injury that’s forcing him to use a walking stick, the old man is quite fast and within fifteen minutes, I’m back in my room. As soon as I’m there, I bolt the door and grab the diary.

“What is it that you wanted to explain?” I ask Moswen with bated breath.

“Not explain per se,” she says hesitantly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Moswen,” I reply, only half-jokingly. Because it’s my very fraught nerves that she’s toying with.

“I can show you,” she says as she walks up to me, motioning at the diary in my hands.

“Show?”

I barely manage to say it before she places a hand on my forehead and I feel a violent jerk as I get sucked someplace else.

It takes me a second to open my eyes, which I’ve instinctively shut tight at the first sign of something happening. When I open them, my room has been replaced by one of the common rooms somewhere in the East Wing of the castle. I recognize it by the Oriental interior design that can’t be found anywhere else.

And there’s lots of people there and everything seems okay, but there’s a strange warm glow to everything that I see.

I don’t see her, but I hear Moswen’s voice. “You’re in one of my memories,” she says and somehow makes me look at one of the far corners of the room. “Pay attention or you’ll miss it.”

I listen, focusing all my attention on the two people, a man and a woman, sitting at a desk with a bunch of papers strewn all over it. They’re both tall, beautiful fae-blooded people dressed in ornate robes. And they seem to be deep in discussion. I try to move closer, but as soon as I do, I hear Moswen say, “It doesn’t work that way. You’re in my body now, the echo of it at least.”

And she seems to be right, because when I finally move, it’s not of my own accord. I walk around the pair, in the widest possible circle, and use a free-standing bookshelf right behind their table as my cover. Because I apparently want to get close without getting noticed.

I pull a book out and crack it open, but I don’t look at its contents. Instead, my eyes fix on the couple. Interesting, I think to myself.

And there’s something about those people, but I don’t even dare to think that they are my parents. It’s only when I hear the man say, “I think it’s a Blood Moon ritual,” that I know.

“I don’t know,” the woman hesitates, shaking her head as she looks up, her eyes sweeping her surroundings. “That would mean…”

She breaks off, but our eyes have already met. Moswen’s and hers, I mean. And for a second, I think she’ll say something to her, but before I know it, I’m being sucked back into my room.

“And you said you had no memory of my parents,” I say as soon as I find myself in front of Moswen once again. I’m not even trying to hide the suspicion and the anger in my voice.

She avoids my eye. “True,” she mutters, only throwing me a single nervous glance. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me like that. Sneaking around and eavesdropping on people to learn more about dark magic.” She pauses, this time looking me straight in the eye. “Because make no mistake, the Blood Moon ritual is exactly that.”

The way she says it makes the suspicion and the anger brewing inside me dissipate. But now my heart is pounding. Because it’s finally dawned on me that my parents may have been involved in some shady business.

Chapter 16 - Quinn

“They’re everywhere,” I mutter to Nuala as I rip off the flier that someone’s taped to the inside of the Elevator.

“Of course they are,” she says with a tentative smile, her words immediately followed by the opening of the door. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the First Round is tomorrow.”

As she follows me out of the Elevator, I turn to give her a smile. I’m so grateful to her for even trying to cheer me up, but the truth is, I’m scared shitless and there’s nothing that can change that.

So I just keep walking, the two of us heading straight for the graveyard. The end of December is nearing and the treetops are bare, no birds singing from their branches. Moswen is insisting we do some training every day, preferably first thing in the morning.

And that’s what we’ll be doing as soon as we get there. But not three seconds go by that I don’t subtly crane my neck to see if Leo is somewhere behind me.

“You do understand,” Nuala starts as she side-eyes me, “that if he really was following you, you wouldn’t know that he was doing it.”

I quirk my eyebrow at her. “Nuala, Moswen told me Leo saw her.”

“That was over a month ago and you haven’t seen him at the graveyard since.”

I let out a low groan. “You may not remember him putting Cormac under his spell…” I pause to throw her a look. “And just because I said I wouldn’t go to the Ball with him… But I sure as hell remember.”

“You can’t be positive that that was him,” Nuala insists.

“Sure, I can’t,” I say as I throw my hands up in the air, feeling helpless for being stuck in the same conversation for the millionth time. “But is this really the time not to keep all options in mind? I mean, there are so many loose ends. We still can’t figure out why Moswen is even here, there’s a chance that my parents were involved in something potentially dangerous and I think that something potentially dangerous is happening again.”

Nuala stops for a second, making me almost topple over. She pats me on the shoulder, the look in her eyes warm and comforting.

I let out a bitter laugh and I lower my head, my eyes darting to the flier I’m gripping in my hand. The image on it sends shivers down my spine every time I see it. It’s not because it’s necessarily so gruesome. It just shows three people, one from each bloodline, fighting each other with deadly looks on their faces. But I don’t feel any more prepared for something like that than I was a month ago. There’s a chance I’ll actually die, I think to myself.

“Sorry, Nuala, I’m just under a lot of stress,” I finally say.

When I look up, she’s looking at me as if she’d like me to vent some more, but I decide I’ve already had more of that shit than the situation allows.

“Would you look at those gloomy skies?” I say, choosing to pat her on the shoulder and change the subject until we arrive at our own private training ground. “It could start raining any minute now.”

“Alright, let’s get going then.”

As soon as we get there, I pull the diary out of my bag. When I open it, Moswen appears in front of us, looking rested as usual. I know she’s not even an actual person, so I shouldn’t be jealous of her. But ever since she showed me her memory, my dreams have been plagued by nightmares involving my mother’s eyes. So yes, I’m jealous of her.

But Moswen is looking at me with visible tension in her eyes. She’s given us a quick nod and now she’s getting straight to the point. Just like she’s been doing lately. “Today we’re going to be working on your control. You’re still quite terrible at that, if I may say so.”

“Even if I told you you may not, you still would,” I reply, making a lame attempt at a joke.

She presses her lips tight and quirks an eyebrow at me. “I’m sorry,” she drawls, “would you mind refreshing my memory? When exactly is the First Round.”

“Tomorrow,” I squeeze out as I pull a face at her.

“Well then? What are you waiting for?” she asks, her arms folded and the look on her face scolding.

She’s acting as if I’m a child, which instantly makes my blood start pumping. Moswen and I, we haven’t known each other long. But she already understands me enough to appreciate exactly how determined sheer spite can make me.

I shake my head and I work on getting into the Meditative stance. I plant my feet firmly on the ground, leaving a bit of space between them. I lower my hands to my sides and I pull my head a bit downward, so I’m looking at the straw target in front of me from an angle. I have rocks laid out before me and my goal is to use them to hit the center of the target.

As Nuala takes her usual seat on one of the moss-covered graves and Moswen stands just a bit closer to where I am, I already start feeling the effects of the pose. It’s used specifically to prepare the body for channeling the flow so you’re more at one with your environment.

“Moswen,” I ask, making sure not to break the stance, “shouldn’t I be more concerned about speed than control?”

I can’t see her, but I know she’s smirking. “You’re actually wondering?”

“Yeah,” I drawl, my lips curling into a mocking smile. “Like, for when I’m actually fighting.”

“Like, I understand you.” Moswen has gotten into the habit of mocking my ‘likes’, despite the fact that they rarely even occur. “But haven’t I taught you anything?”

“Have you seen Sarya using her runes? How fast she is? I highly doubt that any of my opponents at the Trials will do me the favor of waiting around while I get into the right stance. That’s all I’m saying.”

“So you’d tell a child still learning to walk to concern themselves more with speed than control?”

I let out a sigh. “Fine. Point taken,” I say as I focus on the target before me and try to feel the rock before my feet already taking flight.

And I do manage to lift it off the ground and propel it through the air. I even manage to slam it straight into the target. But it’s way off center.

“God damn it,” I snap at myself.

“It’s okay,” I hear Moswen say. “You’re doing it.”

I just wave at the target. “That thing is huge. If I was aiming at an actual someone, the rock would end up missing them by a whole other person.”

“Maybe you’re focusing on the wrong thing,” Nuala says. “That’s what my mother used to say.”

I throw Nuala a grateful smile, but I turn to Moswen for her input.

“Try it the other way,” she says.

And I do. I get into a different stance, the Lion this time, and I try to make the rock into an extension of myself. I repeat to myself that the point is to be forceful, to invoke the active energies of the universe.

This time, I don’t even hit the target.

“Go back to Meditative,” Moswen says with determination in her voice.

I want to groan, but I don’t. Instead, I focus on following her orders. But something’s still off. It just doesn’t feel right, I keep thinking as I prepare to give it another shot.

So I decide to go in another direction. And I choose to keep my mouth shut because I don’t want Moswen to laugh in my face because of how stupid my idea is.

Luckily, what I have in mind doesn’t require me to take a different stance. I just keep a different kind of image in mind and tap my Element rune.

And I shut my eyes tight, for some reason that I honestly can’t explain.

When I open them, I see the rock lift off the ground and fly straight into the center of the target.

And at first, there’s silence. Then a quiet, “Wow,” coming from Nuala’s mouth.

I turn to grin at my companions. To my surprise, Moswen is smiling as she glides closer to me. She looks visibly relieved. “You see, I told you you just needed to keep at it. Earth can be a stubborn element, but once you understand it…”

“Oh, I didn’t use Earth. I find it so rigid.” I pause, scratching my head as if I was caught doing something wrong. “And Air is so much softer.”

Nuala gives a low whistle, but Moswen is just staring at me.

“Let me be clear,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “To manipulate the rock, you used the air around it?”

I nod.

To my surprise, Moswen lets out a chuckle. Quiet, perfectly controlled and a little sad, but still. “I’m sorry, Quinn. It’s just, you haven’t even mastered your first Element and now it turns out you can use a second one. It’s a bit unusual, I have to say.”

“Well,” I start, letting out a chuckle as well. It’s just that mine is a bit embarrassed. “Do you think it increases my chances of surviving the First Round?”

She nods, smiling happily.

“My dear Moswen and my darling Fionnuala,” I say as I pat Nuala roughly on the shoulder and send a gentle air pat in Moswen’s direction, “that’s all that fucking matters.”

Of course, that’s not the end of this day’s torture. I don’t have any classes on Mondays so I keep training until my muscles start threatening to give out. But I’m happy. And I hadn’t even realized it until that moment, but I’ve been living in constant dread of getting killed at the Trials. Of course, this doesn’t mean I won’t be. But my chances are a lot better today than they were yesterday.

So when I finally pack Moswen up and we leave the graveyard, I’m on top of the world. I don’t even mind it when Nuala says, “The Blood Ritual. You forgot to tell Moswen that you’ve finished going through that last book she assigned to you.”

“You know what, Nuala?” I reply, throwing her a grin. “I think I’ll choose not to think about the fucking Blood Ritual until after the First Round. After all, it seems I’ll actually get to see the day.”

She laughs, shaking her head and opening her mouth to say something either snarky or encouraging, when we hear it. Thunderous cheering from the direction of the training grounds.

“What the…” Nuala mutters, her eyes darting there as well.

Of course, we rush to see what’s going on. The training grounds are usually empty this late in the day. But now the warm, ethereal glow of dusk is falling not just on the beaten reddish ground, but on the bodies of students either sitting in the bleachers or fighting in the ring.

As we approach, I see Sarya, Harry, Zelda and Leo among the ones fighting.

“The Vipers,” I whisper. “I didn’t know Leo was one of them.”

Nuala pulls me by the upper arm, saying, “Don’t let them intimidate you.”

But it’s over. I’m coming even closer because I’ve already caught glimpses of several maneuvers that I don’t even know how to explain. At one point, I see a swarm of daggers being propelled after a puma so large it could swallow my head without even opening its jaw. It’s only after an entire minute that I realize that the daggers are actually slivers of stones controlled by Sarya herself.

“Come on, Quinn,” Nuala pleads with me, “what could possibly be the point of this?”

“I’m watching because I want to know as much as possible about more than half of my opponents.”

“But you know why they keep their little club exclusive.”

“Sure,” I say, but I’m still not turning to face her. “They play dirty or they team up. Or both.”

“But they could also want you and everyone else to get the wrong impression about their powers,” she says, stopping to huff and puff about it all. “You know, to throw you all off or something like that. Something not good.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I reply, hearing her breathe a sigh of relief as I straighten up and turn on my heel. “Let’s go back to the castle.”

We walk in silence. And only once we’re in the entrance hall, right at the spot where we usually say bye, do I dare to ask. “Do you think they know?”

She frowns. “What? You mean what the assignment is going to be?”

I nod.

“I highly doubt it.”

I nod again. I want to say something, but I just end up patting her on the shoulder before I say bye. I just want to go to my room and try to forget about everything.

And I can tell Nuala is a bit worried and a tad disappointed as well, but she doesn’t say anything. She just gives me a hug and heads to the cafeteria for dinner.

When I finally bolt the door of my room behind me, I let out a deep sigh and head straight into the bathroom. There I have one of those old-fashioned tubs, with brass legs and everything, that I would’ve killed for growing up.

I fill it with scalding water and throw in some bath salts as well. Shea butter and wild rose, just my kind of thing. And as soon as I strip off all my clothes and lower myself into the fragrant water, the knot that’s been sitting high in my throat starts unraveling, for better or worse.

Now that I’ve seen what I’m up against, I’m once again sure that I’m going to die tomorrow. And I’ve only gotten to use this tub a handful of times, I say to myself, trying to keep it light.

But it doesn’t work. Because I’m going to die tomorrow.

That’s what my mother’s eyes have been trying to tell me. When they appear in my nightmares, they usually just stare at me. There are shivers in the air all around them, muffled sighs and flashes of menacingly red light. But it’s the eyes that make me scared shitless.

I can’t even close mine for fear of seeing them again, starting to look too much like the hearts I’ve seen laid out on that bust. Bloody and unmistakably dead. So I push my body under the surface of the water, trying to find comfort in its warmth.

Chapter 17 - Quinn

Iwake up from that same nightmare in which my mother haunts me, but I remember something else as well. For the first time ever, Faust appeared in my dreams.

I was in the bath when he showed up, the water reflecting off him in the near darkness, revealing glimpses of his beautiful, expressionless face. He slowly walked up to me and crouched, resting his arms on the side of the tub and his chin on his hands. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t look me in the eye once, no matter how much I wanted him to. Tilting his head, he just slowly dragged his eyes up and down my wet, naked body. When they locked with mine and I saw the intensity in them, my nipples hardened and I let out a quiet moan. He didn’t acknowledge it. He slowly reached out his hand and dipped his fingers in the water, making my legs spread for him of their own accord. The next second dragged out in anticipation of his touch with such intensity, it was bordering on painful. And just as I thought I could feel him brush my knee, he disappeared. When I looked down at the water, it had turned into blood.

It’s actually great, at least that’s what I think as I drag myself out of my bed. Now I don’t just wish for the Trials to start because I can’t stand the anticipation of my own death any longer. I also can’t wait for them to start because, well, at least death should get that asshole out of my head once and for all.

Conflicted and grumpy, I get dressed and throw a glance at the clock on my wall. It’s the entrance hall that all of us Chosen are supposed to meet in, so if I leave now, I’ll be early.

Why the fuck did I forbid Nuala to come see me off? I guess I didn’t realize that going alone would feel even more shitty than saying some awkward goodbye.

Fuck it. I’m too nervous to just sit and wait. So I draw in a deep breath and start for the door.

It’s at that exact moment that I hear a knock at the door. “Miss Longborn,” I hear an unfamiliar male voice call out.

I open the door to see the prince’s stout vampire minion, who I’ve heard goes by Max, blinking at me. “Yes?” I ask.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Max starts, “but His Majesty asked me to make sure you got to the entrance hall in time.”

I inhale deeply, fighting not to let this insult get to me. I win. “Thanks, Max,” I squeeze out. “You can tell him that I definitely will be there in time.”

“You misunderstand me,” he says, looking at me with sorry eyes. “I’m to escort you there.”

“What the…” I just look at him for a second, but then I just shake my head and motion for him to move out of the doorway.

And I’m gritting my teeth the entire way down, but I let him. I let him escort me like some lost little puppy that his control freak of a master wishes to have brought to him.

And we’re early, but by the time we walk into the entrance hall, there’s already a million people there waiting for us to leave for the Arena, including Nuala. She’s waving at me, a nervous but warm smile on her face. I barely have time to smile back and mouth ‘Wish me luck’ before I notice our very own Ringleader, the Little Prince himself.

To my surprise, he’s apparently chosen to fight in his casual suit, complete with his Ouroboros waistcoat. He’s towering over the rest of the Chosen, which have him surrounded like a flock of obedient children, even Sarya, Harry, Zelda and Leo.

Sniggering, they’re all watching me be escorted. I let out a sigh and join the circle. Max just waits for Faust to give him a nod and disappears back into the crowd. And though I’ve just seen the Little Prince acknowledge his minion, he doesn’t give me so much as a glance.

He just claps his hands and says, “Now that we’re all here…” He motions at the Elevator behind him. So he’s back to ignoring me, fucker. Fine by me.

We file into the Elevator, all twenty four of us, the contraption always large enough to accommodate the passengers, no matter their number.

“Once we’re inside,” Faust starts, all eyes immediately snapping to him, “take a seat and wait for your name to be called out. Is that clear?”

I nod, trying not to look at him for too long for fear of my mind filling with the images from my dream. My heart is throbbing at the very thought of what’s about to happen. Once he’s made sure there are no questions, Faust pushes a series of Elevator buttons that are so rarely used, they’re still shiny.

The contraption moves and almost immediately stops. The door opens and we all step out, two by two, the silence and the dim lights of the Elevator being switched for thunderous clapping and bright flood lights.

I draw in a breath. I find myself in a large booth with plush chairs overlooking the inside of a huge glass dome. I walk up to the glass booth wall and look down. Ignoring the chatter of the Chosen behind me, I take time to inspect the oval-shaped ring and the bleachers rising up from its sides. There doesn’t seem to be an empty seat left in the place and the guests all seem to be buzzing with anticipation.

Feeling my heart drop into my stomach, I almost curse out loud. How is it possible that I’m being forced into this and none of it is illegal?

But it’s no use. I’ve researched the instances in which people tried to break the Bond forced onto them by the mark. They didn’t just die. They died violent deaths.

My stomach in knots, I keep staring at the audience gobbling up all this modern-day Gladiator shit. When I finally notice all the screens showing our faces real-time, it almost makes me puke. Still, I keep watching, wondering why the faces of the other Chosen seem so bright and excited, especially compared to my pale and frozen one.

“Come on, people,” I hear Faust say. “Take your seats.”

I listen and sit next to a shifter girl that I believe is called Amra, a toned brunette in a tank top and cargo pants.

Faust comes to stand in front of us. “Right after the First Round,” he starts, “we’ll be having a joint interview with some of the most prestigious newspapers across the world.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes sweeping over our faces. They linger on mine for a bit too long before he adds, “I expect you all to be on your best behavior. Got it?”

I see everyone nodding vigorously. “Good luck to you all,” Faust says and takes his seat.

As soon as he does, I see one of the screens show Pied Piper getting up from her seat in the booth to the other side of the Arena. She approaches the glass booth wall and raises her hand, making the chatter die down.

Her voice booms from speakers all around me. “I’ve been told by our Scion sponsors,” she drawls, her voice carrying a touch of mockery, “to drag the introduction out for the purpose of something they refer to as building tension.”

She finishes with an exaggerated flourish of her hand, making the crowd burst out laughing. I can’t help but smile as well.

“I’ve taken this task seriously and this is what I’ve come up with,” she continues in her usual bored voice. She pauses for a second, sweeping her eyes over the entranced crowd. “It is my honor to welcome you all to the 176th Trials of Grimm Academy. There will be fighting and afterwards, there will be food. Now, do you feel the tension?”

There’s such loud cheering from the audience that I feel the urge to cover my ears. Instead, I clap with them.

“Excellent,” the Pied Piper nods contently. “Then it’s time to bring out our first Fighter. Let’s all greet Amra of the House of Lycan.”

I turn to see Amra getting up to leave our booth using a set of stairs to the left. She looks so damn focused, especially when they show her on screen, every detail of her face clearly visible.

I wish Nuala were here with me. I search the audience to catch a glimpse of her, but there’s just too many people here.

What snaps me out of it is the Pied Piper drawling, “Now that our Fighter is in the ring, let’s take a look at what she’ll be playing with.”

Playing? I frown. I see Amra standing in the center of the ring and a huge door right across from her opening with a loud creak.

Once they’re fully open, out comes the biggest, most dangerous creature I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what other word to use but ‘giant’. To make it even worse, he seems to be wearing spiked wooden armor. The crowd roars and I just flinch, imagining the fist on that thing slamming itself into me with full force.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“You must be wondering,” the Pied Piper says, obviously amused, “what this is all about. Well, you probably can’t see it from that far away, but our giant is holding a teensy ball in his hand.”

The screen captures it and the crowd goes ahhh.

“The Fighter’s job,” the Pied Piper continues, “is to take the ball from the giant and throw it… Now wait.” As she says that, the screen captures the appearance of a levitating golden hoop a ways in front of the Pied Piper’s booth. “Right through this hoop,” she finishes, making my stomach twist at the very thought of even trying to do it.

“I also need to mention,” the Pied Piper adds with a sly smile, “that you have a time limit. You only have half an hour before the clock runs out.” At that, I see the image of an hourglass on the screen above me. “When it does, you’re out. But if you manage to get the ball through the hoop before that time, you’re a winner.”

The crowd goes wild again and I hear the other Chosen around me cheer, soundly patting each other on their backs.

Nuh-uh, I think to myself. No way in hell am I focusing on anything other than surviving. I only need to manage it for half an hour and I’m done.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the Pied Piper says. “I think we’ve had enough talking.”

The crowd roars once again and I see Amra get into position, leaning forward as if preparing for a sprint.

A gong sounds and it all happens so fast, I barely draw in a breath. The giant lunges at the girl and the girl lunges at the giant.

He swings one enormous, muscled arm in her direction, she evades the attack and kicks herself off the ground, shifting midair. My jaw drops as I watch her frail human body turn into the biggest bear I’ve ever seen, with my own two eyes or on screen.

With bated breath, I watch her try to attack the giant repeatedly, the creature roaring at her and flailing its spiked arms whenever she comes close. The few times she does get close enough, it rips into her bear body, spilling blood all over the ring.

Holy fuck, this seems totally inhumane. How can they do this to us?

I almost jump out of my seat when Amra’s giant bear claws finally manage to land a blow. And now there’s blood everywhere.

I hear the crowd yelling, but the giant seems to have more than enough fight in him to return the favor. He just lifts his hand and slams her body into the ground.

Holding my breath almost the entire time, I watch Amra squirm as she tries to pick herself up. Strangely, the giant isn’t taking the opportunity to attack. Maybe he’s been injured too heavily. Which is why she finally manages to push herself up off the ground and take another leap.

I don’t actually see what happens. It’s too fast. But I hear wild roaring coming from the giant and I see the girl shift back into her human form. The next second, she’s jumping and the screen is showing the ball flying through the hoop.

The crowd breaks out into loud cheering. “And we have a winner,” the Pied Piper’s voice booms as I fix my eyes on Amra bleeding down there, my heart constricting in my chest.

After Amra leaves the ring, more Chosen get called to fight. Nine more win, including Sarya, Harry, Zelda and Leo. The others all lose. Hard. They also get injured so badly that the medics need to come take them away. And just as I think someone’s going to actually die, I hear his name being called out, making my knees go weak.

I watch him walk down the steps leading from our booth and down into the arena. My eyes dart between the real him and the enlarged image of his face on the screen. He’s smirking.

From the way he moves and the way he smiles, his hands in his pockets as if he’s about to go to class and not fight to possible death, it’s obvious that he’s enjoying the attention. And I can’t not give it to him.

“Now, this should be interesting to watch,” I hear the Pied Piper say. “The prince, of course, is of the House of Lilith, which means that he could simply order the giant to give him the ball. But that’s exactly why the Trials Architects have made sure the giant’s skin is smeared with vampire blood.”

The people around me murmur, but I don’t care about that. My entire focus is on him.

Once he’s in the arena, he just stops and remains standing there, waiting for the gong to sound. The screen shows him smiling as he cracks his neck in one slow, controlled motion, making the girls around me let out a giggle.

He seems so relaxed, it’s making me want to slap him.

But then the gong sounds and all of a sudden, he’s nowhere to be seen. Except as a blur making deft jumps around the arena, finally landing on top of the giant himself. The giant roars, flailing in an attempt to figure out what’s going on, but Faust is already back on the ground, a piece of giant’s armor in his hand. He takes it with both hands and snaps it against his knee, creating a spear-like weapon. Then he turns around and smirks at the camera. The son of a bitch. It makes me draw in a breath, feeling desire tingling all over my skin.

When he turns back to the giant, I see that the big guy is just about to jump at him. But Faust just raises his spear and throws it effortlessly straight into the creature’s hand. The giant roars and lets go of the ball.

The prince seems to disappear. And the next time I see him, he’s standing in the arena as the gong sounds to mark his victory. He’s managed to get the ball and throw it through the hoop without me noticing any of it.

Holy shit.

As the crowd roars, I keep watching him as his eyes sweep over it. Oh, he’s enjoying this. And for a second, our eyes meet. And his linger. I draw in a breath, my thighs clutching as the flames of his gaze lick my skin, making me go wet with desire.

Good job, Quinn, I snarl at myself. He is exactly where your focus should be right now.

And of course, it’s at that exact moment that my name is called out. I feel air being knocked out of my lungs and my entire body going numb.

As if in a trance, I get up and walk out of the booth and down the steps. I can barely do more than keep breathing and putting one foot in front of the other.

Before I know it, I’m in the arena, looking up at the towering giant in front of me. He looks even more menacing from up close. And I want time itself to stop so I can figure out how to survive this, but almost immediately, the gong sounds and the giant charges straight at me.

I turn on my heel and start running the fuck away from him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I guess there’s more than one way to win,” I hear the Pied Piper’s smirking voice boom from the speakers.

It doesn’t take the giant long to catch up to me. And I have to start climbing the arena walls to escape him, but he still manages to land a blow to my side, knocking the air out of my lungs and making me fall back to the ground.

I quickly push myself up, but the giant is right in front of me, his chest heaving. For a second, I just look at him. His eyes are filled with something that strikes me as oddly familiar.

But then he attacks again, swinging his arm at me and making me jump to my right. Alright, at least he’s quite predictable, I think to myself. Otherwise I’d be forced to jump straight to using magic and the very thought fills me with dread.

When he misses again, he throws his hands up in the air and lets out a long, frustrated roar. And that’s when it finally hits me, what I found familiar in his eyes.

It’s the same look of helpless anger my former foster brother Danny would have after Mr. Smith would leave him with more cigarette burns on his forearm.

With rounded eyes, I take another look at the giant. Holy fuck, how inhumane can this get?

He’s a child. This is not an adult giant, I repeat to myself as I break into a sprint to dodge yet another one of his attacks. Suddenly feeling in control, I run as far away from him as possible, I stop… and, slowly, I lower myself to the ground and get into the lotus position.

I can hear the crowd laugh, but I don’t give a shit. I keep doing my thing, just looking at the enormous creature, waiting.

And the giant scratches his head in confusion, but he slowly stalks over to me.

When he’s right in front of me, he sniffs the air and throws me a blank look.

I reach out my hand, gesturing at the ball in his hand and then pointing at myself.

The giant just looks at me for a second, then lets out a roar and takes another swing at me, making me kick myself off the ground and go back to running as the audience laughs.

But I’ve seen the hand in which he keeps the ball from up close. And it still has in it a piece of that spike that Faust threw at him.

So I circle the giant and come to a stop right in front of him. I think I’m making him confused because he’s become hesitant in his attacks.

I motion at his hand again and I pretend I’m taking a spike out of my own hand, hoping he’ll get what I’m trying to tell him.

He just attacks again and this time, I don’t fall back quickly enough. One of the spikes from his armor catches the skin of my shoulder and rips into it.

I curse out loud and he takes a step back, watching me.

I’m panting, my heart is throbbing and pain is searing my shoulder, but I don’t even try to get away. Still standing there, I ask to remove the spike for him again and I wait.

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he switches the ball from left to right hand and takes a step towards me.

When he finally holds out his injured hand for me, I hear a murmur rise from the crowd.

Almost without breaking eye contact, I come a little closer and I yank the spike out of his hand.

He lets out a roar and for a moment, I think that this is the end of me.

But then he calms down, bends over a little and rolls the ball in my direction.

This time, I hear gasps from all around me. I ignore them. I just pick up the ball and start running. When I’m all the way on the other side of the arena, I kick myself off the ground and I fling my hand, throwing the ball through the hoop levitating above me.

I hear the gong sound, but this time, the crowd doesn’t applaud. There’s a strange mix of tense silence and excited chatter as a girl with a name tag I don’t bother to read comes to get me out of there. I throw her a tired albeit grateful smile.

While I half listen to the Pied Piper declaring the end of the First Game, my guide leads me out of the arena and down a well-lit hallway. And just as we’re about to turn a corner, I hear his voice from some distance. My breathing quickens as my ears prick up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, uncle,” he says.

“You were being too smug out there,” Faust Senior replies with obvious disapproval in his voice.

Faust only lets out a scoff. “I thought you wanted me to win.”

There’s a moment of silence before the uncle replies, “Win, of course, just without the gloating.”

Oh, I think to myself, this makes me like the old man even more.

But it’s at that exact moment that my guide has me turn another corner and I see them walk through an archway leading into a crowded, noisy room.

Fuck. The interview. Will this day never end?

My guide motions for me to follow them and leaves. Cameras flashing as I walk, I enter the interview room and grab a seat at the table where the remaining Chosen are already seated. It’s just twelve of us now.

Once I settle down, I see Faust give one of the countless journalists seated across from us a nod. And just like that, the yelling begins.

“Tell me, Miss Longborn,” a thin blonde journalist demands as she shoves a microphone in my face, “why did you choose not to fight the giant?”

“Surely,” I hear Faust cut in, “you don’t want to talk about the only fight that wasn’t even a fight.”

I shoot him a look, but his eyes are fixed on the reporter as he gives her a fake smile.

Another reporter chimes in. “What do you think about it, Your Majesty? After all, it’s you who’s been put in charge of the Chosen this year.”

For a split second, I see the smile slide off his face. He clears his throat and says, “As always, our Chosen represent the best of the best. But of course, even among a select few, you can find those more worthy of the title.”

He’s obviously evading the question and that makes me want to slap him. But the reporters don’t bite. “Does this mean you don’t think Miss Longborn is an actual contender?”

Another one turns to me and asks, “Miss Longborn, was what you did some kind of comment on the Trials themselves?”

I open my mouth, but Faust is already cutting in, his voice almost threatening. “I’m sure Miss Longborn didn’t think that far ahead. She…”

“Can speak for herself,” I hear myself say. And despite the look of sheer fury that he throws me, I keep talking. “Why did I choose not to fight the giant? It’s very simple. That giant is just a kid and whatever the Academy would want me to do, I don’t fight children.”

The silence that follows my words is deafening. With the corner of my eye, I see Faust staring at me, but I’m too busy feeling the onset of a panic.

I’m almost thankful to him when he finally clears his throat, gets up and says, “I think we’ve had enough questions for today. Our fighters, as you can see, are all wrung out and in need of rest.”

No one dares to object. As I’m scrambling out of my seat, Faust is already on his way out of the room. I can’t help but glance at him, the glance turning into a stare when I see him being approached by the Pied Piper herself.

She leans to whisper something to him, looking over her shoulder and straight into my eyes. She doesn’t look happy.

And I can see Faust’s entire body visibly tense up. His eyes dart to mine, throwing me a pissed-off look before he pulls himself together and murmurs something back to the principal. She nods and he takes his leave.

Chapter 18 - Quinn

“You can’t be serious,” Nuala says as she tries to catch up with me.

“You bet I am.” I have my bag with me and I’m headed straight for the graveyard.

“But you literally just finished the First Round, you’re in pain and we have the Ball tonight. Do you need any more reasons not to go back to training just yet?”

“Nuala,” I say without even turning to look at her, “I just need to blow off some steam. I don’t think I could possibly be more pissed than I am right now.”

My friend just lets out a deep sigh and keeps walking with me.

And I don’t know if I’m overreacting, but I can’t seem to control it. The anger inside me is burning bright, threatening to consume me.

But before we even get close to the graveyard, we hear screaming from the direction of the Lycan Forest. It’s the deep dark woods just behind Nuala’s tower.

We both stop midstep and look at each other in silence. Then we break into a sprint, forgetting all about the graveyard.

The sound of screaming leads us and a couple of other students straight into the forest. The trees there grow so close that light barely ever touches the ground.

And the screaming has died down. At first, I only see a delicate fae-blooded girl standing in the middle of a narrow path leading through the trees. Frozen.

My eyes follow the direction of her gaze. When I see it, I almost let out a scream myself.

Two bodies hung off two neighboring trees, naked and upside down. Their throats have been slit and the blood is still slowly dripping down their heads. And straight onto two candles dug into the ground below.

We all just watch in silence, just like the fae girl. No one wants to go near, but even from this distance, I can see that the candles are giving off blood-red light. One of them has a symbol of the sun carved into it, while the other a symbol of the moon.

After a couple of seconds of only hearing my heart throbbing in my ears, the fae girl whose screams led us here turns on her heel and starts walking straight back to the castle. “I’m going to go get someone,” I hear her mutter.

“Quinn.” I feel Nuala tug on my sleeve and I turn to her. What I see sends shivers down my spine. My friend’s entire body is trembling and she has this absent look in her rounded eyes.

“Wait,” I whisper.

She nods. I can tell she’s in shock, but I want us to stay just a little bit longer because I need Moswen to see this. And the others urge us to go with them, but eventually they follow the fae girl out of the woods and back to the castle.

As soon as they’re gone, I dig out the diary and I crack it open. Just like last time, a part of me hopes that Moswen’s reaction won’t be as extreme as ours. But I can tell she’s fighting to keep herself under control.

“Some students have already gone to get someone,” I mutter.

“Good,” she says, her voice unusually shaky as she keeps staring at the sight before us. “That’s good. And I think you should leave as soon as possible as well.”

I don’t wait for her to tell me a second time. I close the diary, I take Nuala by her sweaty hand and I practically sprint out of the forest, only one thing on my mind. To get us back to the safety of the castle.

But as soon as we’re out of the woods, something strange happens. I see someone approach us, but my mind can’t make sense of the person’s face. I see eyes, a nose, a mouth, but it’s like looking at an abstract painting. It all makes me stop in my tracks and let go of Nuala’s hand.

Without saying a word, the person takes a step closer, making me take one back. Nuala follows suit, breathing heavily. My heart pounding wildly, I squint in a vain attempt to make my eyes obey.

They refuse.

Still silent, the person just raises a hand at me and the next thing I know, I lose control of my own body.

Slowly and without wanting to, I take the bag with the diary that’s hanging off my shoulder and I hold it out for them.

“Nuala,” I yell out, but my friend does nothing. She just lets out a long, pained wail.

I panic, trying to think of a way to use my runes without being able to control my hands.

Too late, the thought rings in my head as the person grabs the bag and starts pulling.

The very next second, the grip loosens and the person disappears. The sudden release makes me fall on my back and crash against the cold, hard ground, but at least I have the diary safely in my hands.

What the fuck just happened, I think to myself.

It’s then that I hear it. “What’s going on here?” the Pied Piper demands. I’d recognize her voice anywhere.

Chapter 19 - Quinn

“Are we done?” I ask the assistant, trying not to sound too hostile. The fear that’s still shaking me up and the urge to check on Nuala are making me a bit less considerate than usual.

“I’d think you’d be happy we’re taking this seriously,” she says as she lifts the pen off the notebook she’s been writing my answers in.

“I am,” I reply with a sigh, trying to remind myself that this scrawny vampire girl has only been nice to me. But I expected to be questioned by the Pied Piper herself and her assistant using her powers on me has been draining. “I’m just worried about my friend,” I choose to say.

“I understand,” the girl says with a smile. “But this will be the last question I have for you.”

I nod.

“When you walked out of the forest, how did you feel? Apart from shaken up? Did you feel like yourself?”

As she talks, I feel the presence of her willpower in my own mind. It’s like having a phantom mind inside your head. And I’d tell her the truth either way, but this makes it impossible for me to tell any lies.

“No, I didn’t feel strange that way.”

She just looks at me for a second. I do my best to push the thought of the diary out of my mind, but when she tilts her head, I almost let it flood me, thinking I’ve messed up.

“Alright,” she finally concludes. “You can go.”

I practically jump out of my chair, heading straight for the door.

“Your friend,” I hear her say and I stop midstep.

I turn back to her with bated breath.

“You won’t be able to visit her until she’s released.”

“Thanks,” I say and practically run out of the office.

I rush to the House of Ydril, skipping steps on my way upstairs. It’s already late afternoon and the Ball is in only a couple of hours. But I’m desperate to talk to Moswen, the fear that’s been gripping me from before I even opened my eyes this morning finally taking a toll on me.

“And?” I ask as soon as she appears, my voice shaky with anticipation. “You think that that was an isolated incident?”

She doesn’t even have to answer. The look on her face is telling me everything.

Still, I’m surprised when she says, “I’m sorry, Quinn. I thought it wouldn’t come to this.”

I pin her down with my stare, barely able to control the urge to shake her until she tells me what the hell is going on.

“I think it’s best if I showed it to you.”

I gulp and I nod, not knowing what to expect. She places a hand on my forehead and just like last time, I’m sucked into one of her memories.

This time, we’re out in the garden on a clear, sunny day. I’m surrounded by a bunch of girls, all young, giddy and wide eyed. I can’t really make out everything they’re saying, despite how close we’re standing. But there’s laughter and mentions of both professors and sweethearts as people keep rushing past us, seeming to be busy with preparations for an event of some kind.

It strikes me as odd, considering how scared Moswen looked when she said she had to show me something. Odd that this would be the memory she referred to. It’s then that I notice all the posters. They look a little old-fashioned, but they’re basically the same as the ones we had for the First Round. It’s just that, here and now, it’s the Third Round that’s being announced.

A shiver creeps down my spine as my eyes dart from left to right. Something’s going to happen and I don’t know what or when. I want to go walking around, looking for signs of trouble, but when I try, I’m reminded of the fact that I can’t move unless Moswen does.

So when her eyes dart to the hedge at the far end of the garden and linger, I immediately prick up my ears. She seems to be absorbed in watching two figures approaching the spot where the Elevator hides, trying not to draw attention to themselves but obviously arguing.

My heart skips a beat. I can’t help but hope it’s not them, because whatever’s happening, it can’t be good. When they’re almost at the Elevator door, I feel the need to curse. Is that really going to be it?

To my surprise, Moswen doesn’t remain standing in her friends’ circle. She excuses herself and starts making her way to the castle herself.

I admire the way she does it. Lingers in front of the castle until they’ve taken the Elevator. Stops to pretend to read a pamphlet in the entrance hall as she gauges which way they’ll go. Makes zero noise as she follows them down a series of deserted hallways.

“If she listens to us,” one of the figures starts and I immediately recognize the man who I think is my father, “then maybe we can get the Pied Piper on board.”

“And if she doesn’t?” the woman who I think is my mother snaps, albeit wearily. “Byrne is away. If you’re wrong and she turns on us, he won’t be able to protect us.”

The man stops and puts his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s irrelevant. If we’re right, we’ve no time to waste. It’s happening. Tonight, Syllia.”

The woman shakes her head and lets out a deep sigh. Then she gives the slightest nod and they both keep walking, only stopping when they reach a plain wooden door at the end of the hallway.

I never get inside. They close the door behind them and I crouch before it with the keyhole at eye level.

Of course, I see absolutely nothing except a patch of candle light spilling through. And there are already words being uttered, words I can’t really make out.

Fucking shit. But just as I start cursing the unfairness of the entire situation, Moswen does a little digging through her pocket and takes out a strange little contraption, long and metal, with an eye carved into the thicker end. She slides it into the keyhole and looks through it, as if she’s looking through a microscope lens.

I can now see into the room on the other side of the wall. Plain as day. It looks like a study, soft armchairs surrounded by solid-wood bookshelves. And there are three people inside, all seated. My parents… and Professor Mistila.

My heart skips a beat. She looks much younger, but it’s her. Right now, they’re not talking because they all seem stunned, but when she speaks, I realize that Moswen’s contraption isn’t just allowing us to see into the room. We can hear everything loud and clear as well.

“You want me to shut down the Trials?” Professor Mistila asks.

My mother takes a deep breath and says, “Yes.”

Professor Mistila lets out a chuckle as she leans forward to pour herself a drink. “I’m sorry, my dear Syllia, but I don’t seem to understand what these incidents have to do with it all.”

“My apologies, veneranda,” my father chimes in. “But the hearts were cut out on the night of the Blood Moon, the corpses drained on the day of the Winter Solstice and, well… It’s fresh in all of our memories what happened on Walpurgis night.”

“Exactly,” my mother echoes. “It’s plain as day that someone’s planning on utilizing the stone’s power.”

For a second, there’s silence. Professor Mistila stays serious, but there’s a touch of mockery in her voice as she says, “Syllia, I hate to have to tell you this. But the stone’s powers are a thing of myth. Nothing more.”

“What if they’re not?” my mother demands, a bit too forcefully, judging by the way she immediately corrects her tone. “The Trials pose a unique opportunity for the thief. Are you really willing to risk a potential bloodbath?”

Professor Mistila waves her hand in dismissal. “The incidents thus far were obviously the actions of some deranged dark magic enthusiast.”

“Or someone with connections in the Trials,” my father throws in.

For a second, there’s silence. I can see Professor Mistila squint, her entire body tensing up before my eyes. “What are you implying?” she asks in a low, warning voice.

“Professor Mistila,” my mother rushes to say, “you know that he has all sorts of strange ideas. Would it be really that unexpected…”

The professor doesn’t let her finish. “Not another word,” she commands as she gets up off her chair with a pissed-off look on her face. “I want you out of my office, now.”

I hear yelling and the sounds of footsteps approaching the door and all of a sudden, I’m back in my room, Moswen staring at me with rounded eyes.

“So it’s true,” I mutter. “If the Third Round is held as planned, something horrible is going to happen.”

And I appreciate it when Moswen comes to crouch in front of my bed. I also appreciate it when she says, “Don’t worry, little Quinn. I’ll protect you.”

But I’ve long since stopped believing in fairy tales.

Chapter 20 - Quinn

As soon as I hear Nuala’s been discharged, I rush to the Lycan tower. I’m so anxious to see how she’s doing, I take two steps at a time. When I finally barge into her room, I find her in bed, scrolling away on her phone. She looks up and throws me a hesitant smile.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” I breathe a sigh of relief and come to sit on the edge of her bed. “Wait,” I say when I look into her eyes from up close. “Did they give you something?”

“I think so,” she says flatly.

“But you weren’t hurt,” I reply, frowning. “Or was it for the mind magic?”

“It’s just sedatives,” she snaps a little and then looks away, her lips pressed tight. “That… person… didn’t use mind magic on me.”

At first, I just blink at her. Then I frown. “What’re you telling me?” I ask. “That you were in control of yourself the entire time and you just stood there?”

“I think you heard me right,” she mutters, refusing to look at me.

I go from concerned to pissed-off in record time. “Look, Nuala, I do understand that the thing in the woods was traumatic…” I make her look at me, trying not to raise my voice, but failing. “But when that fucking thief appeared, it didn’t occur to you to try to help me? To stop him or her from stealing Moswen or hurting me or whatever?”

“I guess I’m a coward,” my friend just says.

“You sure didn’t seem like one when Sarya came to mess with us that time,” I snap at her.

Nuala shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Why not the truth?”

She just looks at me for a second. Then, to my surprise, her breathing gets heavy and she slowly breaks into quiet sobbing. “That thing in the woods…”

“Tell me,” I urge her, my voice growing softer.

“I used to have seven brothers, not six, okay?” she snaps and quickly collects herself, although she doesn’t stop crying. “It’s just, one day when I was nine, just before my first shift was supposed to happen, our town got attacked by a rival pack.”

I grab her hand. “I’m so sorry, Nuala,” I mutter.

“It was a massacre,” she squeezes out. “And when they left, we found my brother hanging off a tree like that.”

“Holy fuck,” I blurt out.

“I know, but I don’t want to linger on it,” Nuala replies, sniffling as she wipes her tears. “I was okay for a long, long time, until today, I guess.” She lets her eyes land on mine, a sorry look in hers. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I really wanted to help, but when I saw that thing today, I just froze and when that person attacked you, it got even worse. The only thing I could do was yell.”

I shake my head and wave my hand, trying to show how much I won’t be holding it against her. I try to pull her into a hug, but she resists.

“No, there’s more,” she says, her voice sounding a lot more sober. “Now that I’m just spilling everything, you may as well know the whole truth about me.”

I feel my eyebrows shoot up.

“That night,” she squeezes out, “when they killed my brother, I snapped and I felt the bond between myself and my animal sever.”

“What do you mean?”

She stays silent for a second. “I’m a shifter who can’t shift, Quinn.”

“So what?” I scoff. “We’ll fix you.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“What, your choice is to… do nothing?”

“For crying out loud, Quinn,” she snaps at me. “Don’t you think I’ve tried everything?” she drawls angrily. “It’s just like that for some shifters and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” I say as I raise my hand in defense. For now, I think to myself. “But hey,” I add, smiling, “aren’t you glad you got all that out of your system. I can’t believe you’re only trusting me with it now.”

She shakes her head, but she also gives me a weak smile. “That’s all just peachy, but the problem’s still there.”

“What problem?”

“Well, you know all that fun stuff happening,” she drawls teasingly, “the cut-out hearts and the hanging corpses? That’s all stuff I’m unable to help with.”

I open my mouth to tell her she’s full of shit, but then it hits me. My friend knows nothing about the memory I just saw. I tell her and she listens with wide eyes and without once interrupting me. When I’m done, at first, she remains silent, thinking.

“I just don’t get it,” she finally says. She shakes her head and starts counting on her fingers. “There’s the Blood Rituals, there’s someone trying to steal Moswen, and then there’s that thing with your parents, Professor Mistila and the Trials…”

She looks up at me and shakes her head. “Quinn, is it all random? Or is there a connection we’re not seeing?”

“Look, that thing we just saw, and the one before it,” I say, letting out a sigh as I struggle to find the words, “they’re obviously identical to the incidents that happened when my parents taught here. And whoever’s responsible for them, well… It’d be in their interest for no one to find out, which is one possible reason for someone trying to steal Moswen.”

“So that means…” She breaks off, but she’s looking at me as if she wants me to be the one to say it.

“...That we really have some kind of bloodbath to prevent, yes.”

We both let the weight of the situation silence us for a second.

“If that’s really what’s going on,” Nuala finally says, “shouldn’t we go straight to the Pied Piper? Or someone, you know, who knows what they’re doing?

I shake my head. “I wish. But judging by Moswen’s memory, this could be the work of someone very well protected. The kind of person no one wants to piss off. So I don’t think we can risk it, at least until we learn more.”

Nuala nods. “Where do you think we should start?” she asks.

“Professor Mistila,” I say with determination. “She told me she didn’t know my parents and that was a straight-out lie, Nuala. So it might be worth it, but I’m not happy about it being our only option.”

My friend thinks for a second. “I think I have an idea.”

I raise my eyebrows, nudging her to go on.

“You should join the Vipers.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Holy hell, Nuala.”

“No, I’m serious,” she insists, her eyes wide and her hand grabbing mine in excitement. “Think about it. We don’t know who’s responsible for all the shit that’s going on. We don’t even know what they want, except maybe some stone or whatever. The only thing we do know is that the Trials are somehow connected to it all.” She smiles and clicks her tongue. “And who has the most inside info when it comes to the Trials?”

“The Vipers,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Exactly,” Nuala says. “And they’re all going to be at the Ball.”

I groan as I let my body fall on the bed. “I don’t want to go, Nuala.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t say anything. I lift my head to demand a reaction. When I see her looking at me funny, as if she’s withholding something, I immediately push myself back up. “What? What’s happened?”

“It’s not that bad,” she says, wincing, “but before you got here, I was on my phone…”

She breaks off and I jab her with my elbow.

“Just check your social media.”

I whip out my phone, pull up my feed and start scrolling. “What the fuck?” I almost yell out.

Olarel House not extinct? The surviving member attacks the Dark Prince after First Round of Trials.

The mystery of the fae raised among humans: Who is Quinn Longborn and why does she claim to be an Olarel?

What’s going on between the Dark Prince and the fae everyone claims is the last of the Olarels?

And so on and so forth. “When did this happen?” I ask my friend even before I manage to tear my eyes away from the screen.

“Right after the interview, so it would seem,” she replies as she points at the time stamp in the corner of the first article I’ve just looked up online.

I throw the phone on my bed and slide my face against the palms of my hands. “Great. Now I really don’t want to go.

“You have to,” Nuala tells me with determination in her voice as she grabs my shoulder to shake me. “If you want to join the Vipers, this is, like, the perfect opportunity. And, I mean…” She pauses, forcing me to look at her. She’s grinning. “You are an Olarel. I mean, at least you claim to be.”

She’s mocking me, the cursed little shifter. I just stare at her for a moment, clicking my tongue and shaking my head. Then we both burst out laughing.

“Now,” I say as I get up off the bed. “It’s time for that stupid Ball. Help me make myself presentable?”

She lets out a giggle and jumps to her feet. “I’d love nothing more.”

Chapter 21 - Quinn

The night is hauntingly beautiful, I think to myself as I steal glances through the windows we’re walking by. I’m wearing an emerald green dress that’s cut low on the back and I’m feeling like a million bucks. We’re on our way to the Ball and yes, I’ll probably be the only one there without a date, but I’m still floating because my friend proved herself to be a genius. She brought some blood gin to my room and we downed it all while getting ready, becoming giddier by the drop.

Of course, we’re far from being the only intoxicated ones right now. The Ball hasn’t even started yet. But long before we get to the Main Hall, we start bumping into drunk students arguing, making out and playing games out on the hallways. The men all stop to leer at me and Nuala keeps jabbing me with her elbow, giggling like a child. I pay them no mind, but I do feel the rush of a special night starting to consume me as well.

But as soon as we turn the corner and find ourselves in the entrance hall, all hell breaks loose. Flashes. People rushing towards us. All of them shoving their microphones in my face and practically yelling, “Miss Longborn!” all at the same time.

I feel Nuala grab me by the upper arm and drag me away from them. As we charge towards the archway leading into the Main Hall, I hear the reporters rushing after me, one woman’s voice managing to drown out the rest. “Can you tell us if it’s true? Are you really the last of the Olarels?”

Nuala pushes me through the archway and we find ourselves in the Main Hall. I turn to see if the reporters are going to follow us, but they’re all walking away. So they’re not allowed inside, I make a mental note to myself.

But when I turn my eyes back onto the Main Hall stretching before me, it’s all I can do not to let out a gasp. There’s a strange mix of classical and club music playing in the background, drowning out the chatter of the guests dressed in the most lavish gray and white outfits I’ve ever seen. My eyes sweep over the snowflakes covering the polished floor and the icicles hanging from the crystal chandeliers. How fitting, I think, falling in love with the Academy just a little. It’s the Winter Solstice Ball and the Main Hall has been transformed into a real-life winter palace.

I turn to smile at Nuala, but just as I see her smiling back, a nervous-looking guy jumps out in front of us. “What are you doing?” he hisses at me, at the exact same time he throws me a pleading look and grabs my forearm. “There’s a special entrance for the Chosen. You could get me fired, you know.”

As he leads me out of the Main Hall, I mouth sorry to Nuala. She shrugs her shoulders, laughing as she turns on her heel. Heading for the bar, I presume. I let out a sigh, thinking how much rather I’d just be a spectator tonight. But I have a mission, I remind myself, and that’s the only thing that matters.

By the time the nervous guy leads me to the back door, I’m eyes on the prize once again, even after I hear them all chatting inside. I walk in and find myself in what I can only describe as the backstage. Almost instantly, there’s silence and the eyes of the other eleven Chosen are all on me. Including him.

Quick, what do I do, I snap at myself as I take a step forward.

“Good, you’re here,” I hear a woman’s voice and I breathe a sigh of relief when I turn to her and see she’s part of tonight’s staff. “You all need to get ready for the dance,” she says as her eyes sweep over us all. “It’s about to start.”

I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but she’s already stormed out of the room and I’m left standing there, wondering what the fuck is going on. The others don’t go back to their chatting. Instead, they take positions in front of the curtain before them. I rush to find a spot, pissed that no one fucking told me about the dance.

My eyes dart to Faust. He’s chatting with the Chosen standing next to him, but I don’t care. I stare at him until he notices me throwing daggers at him. For a second, he squints at me. Then he just shrugs, his lip curling into a smile that's barely noticeable. But me, it’s poking me straight in the fucking eye. He did this on purpose.

“I noticed you weren’t there,” I hear a voice from behind my back and I snap my head in its direction to see Leo looking at me intently. “When we met up to discuss the dance. But you’re in luck because I can walk you through it.”

I nod, thankful that someone’s going to explain it to me and not really caring who it is. It’s at that exact moment that I hear a gong, followed by Professor Byrne’s voice welcoming all guests to the 176th Winter Solstice Ball. The crowd claps and cheers, and I feel Leo’s hand wrapping around my waist.

I flinch, but when I turn to face him, the curtain is already up and the lights are practically blinding me. “Now we’re going to do a sort of waltz,” he says as he leads me onto a podium with the rest of the Chosen. The music is much louder now so he has to raise his voice a little. “And after we do a couple of spins like this,” he continues as he shows me, “it’s on to the next partner.”

“So I have to dance with all of the Chosen?” I ask, afraid of the answer because it would mean I have to dance with a certain someone as well.

“Yes,” Leo replies as he lets out a chuckle, but the very next second, I’m out of his arms, falling straight into Harry’s.

I dance with a couple more Chosen and just as I think I might be able to avoid him after all, I turn around to see Faust holding out his hand with a blank face.

For a second, I just stare at him. Then I scoff and turn on my heel, leaving him to stand there.

As the rest of the Chosen start dancing the last round, I hear Professor Byrne on the microphone again, inviting the rest of the party to the dance floor.

I myself am determined to get away, to find Nuala, to try to get some of the Vipers to talk to me. But I don’t even manage to get to the steps leading off the podium, when I feel a presence to my left.

I don’t even have to turn around to know it's him. His smell immediately sends my heart racing. He leans to whisper, “Give me your hand.” His voice is telling me he’s not joking around. “And make sure you’re seen smiling.”

I turn to face him. I allow myself a quick glance around the room, seeing like a gazillion eyes on us. And I don’t want to be an asshole so I give him a fake smile, but I just keep standing. “I’m sorry,” I say, still smiling. “I’m just not in the mood for more dancing.”

A flash of anger crosses his face before he leans in and says, his voice more forceful this time. “Take. My. Hand. And put yours on my shoulder or I promise you’ll regret it.”

“You know,” I hiss at him, remembering at the last second to throw in another fake smile, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d willingly dance with you. So what the fuck is your problem?”

He scoffs as his eyes sweep the room. His voice is low again when he says, “I don’t know if you’re being spiteful or just plain stupid.”

This makes me want to slap him, but he just keeps talking. “After the articles this afternoon, you seriously expect no one to be reading into it? You refusing to dance with me?”

I grit my teeth, but I nod. I draw in a breath and I give him my hand, almost pulling it back when I feel the rush of electricity at the touch of his skin.

Holy hell, I’m screwed, I think to myself before it even happens. I put my other hand on his shoulder, feeling the hardness of his muscles, at the same time he takes me by the waist. His hand is stiff on my back, as if he’s disgusted to be touching me. Still, I feel my knees give out and a need fill my body. The need to smell him, to press myself against him, to be even closer than this. And when he starts spinning me in the rhythm of the music, it all becomes a little too much to bear.

So after a couple of turns around the podium, I make him stop and I pull myself away from him. Breathless and not trusting my voice not to shake, I just bow and walk away.

It’s hard because my body doesn’t want to listen, but I force myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I breathe a sigh of relief once I realize he’s not following me.

Now, what I really need is my friend, but when I go look for her, I see her talking to Harry. I frown, but then I realize that he’s trying to make her dance with him. And she blows him off, but then this hot fae-blooded guy cuts in and I see the two of them climb the stairs to the podium, hand in hand, while Harry watches sullenly from the sidelines.

I guess I’ve no other option but to get to work on plan B, that is, getting the Vipers to make me one of their own. So I draw in a breath and start walking towards Harry.

But he’s not in a good mood. Once I get close, he does tear his eyes away from Nuala, but he only shakes his head at me and walks away.

Perfect.

I start strolling around the Main Hall, trying to spot the other Vipers. And there’s Leo, talking to one of the professors. He looks up, catching my eye. He’s already excusing himself and heading straight towards me, but I don’t want it to be him, that’s how much he creeps me out. If it turns out I have no other choice, sure, but until then, I’m staying out of his sight.

So I quickly turn on my heel and I almost bump into Faust’s date rushing out of the Main Hall, crying her eyes out. Trouble in paradise, I guess, I think to myself. But I don’t have time to linger on it.

Because there’s Zelda, standing by the bar and waiting for a drink. I take a deep breath and start walking.

“Miss Longborn,” I hear someone say and I stop midstep. When I turn around, I see an older vampire with a heavily scarred face towering over me. “Or should I say Miss Olarel?” he says with a smile.

I notice the pin on his white cloak. A black cross in a circle of rubies, the crest of the House Lilith. But the color tells me I’m talking to a Duke. I rush to bow, feeling once again that I’m being watched.

It makes the Duke let out a laugh. “No need for such formalities, I assure you.” He motions at the group of powerful-looking people sitting at one of the more prominent tables. “My friends and I would very much like to get to know you.”

And he’s still smiling, but he’s looking at me a lot like I believe a hungry cat would look at a delicious mouse. Fuck, can I even say no, I wonder. Should I try? “I’d be delighted.” And as I speak, it dawns on me. “It’s just that I first have to say hi to the rest of the Chosen. You know,” I say with a smile, “out of courtesy at least.”

There’s a second of silence, during which my heart skips a beat, before the Duke flashes a smile and says, “Of course. We’ll be here.”

That was close, I think to myself as I walk away, even though I don’t know what exactly I was scared of. It doesn’t matter. Eyes on the prize, Quinn.

And I see that Zelda is no longer at the bar, but there’s Sarya passing by. I practically charge at her, but before I can get close enough, Leo appears in front of me.

“You know,” he says with a sly smile, “you never thanked me for helping you back there.”

“Really?” I ask, frowning. “How rude of me.”

“It’s alright. I’m more than ready to forgive you,” he replies as he leans a bit closer, “provided you give me another dance.”

For a second, I almost say, “Sure, provided you get me in the Vipers.” But I can feel it in my bones, that this is not a guy I want to be indebted to.

“You know, I would,” I choose to say, “but I really have to go say hi to someone.”

And I move to walk away.

He blocks me and lets out a chuckle, looking over his shoulder to where Faust is standing. He’s surrounded by groupies near the center of the room.

To my surprise, I see him throw back a shot.

“Even now that you’re an Olarel,” Leo whispers in my ear, “you’re not good enough for a prince, you know?” He turns to face me and holds out his hand. “So it might not be such a great idea for you to refuse your next best option. For the second time at that.”

“What’re you gonna do?” I spit out. “Keep stalking me like some psycho?” I ask, thinking about the chocolates.

With that, I leave him standing there, a flash of anger crossing his face. Damnit, now I’ve pissed him off and I don’t really have a clue how far he’s willing to go in this game of his.

And to make matters worse, he’s not the only one trying to stop me from doing what I’m supposed to do. Now that everyone knows about my heritage, I seem to be the belle of the ball, I think to myself as I spot a couple of guys preparing to approach me.

The next thing I know, Faust appears in front of me, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted to the side. I frown at him. “What do you want?”

There’s something off about him, the way he just looks at me. His hair is slightly disheveled and the first couple of buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing the curves of his collarbone.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally says. It’s barely noticeable, but the words are slurred.

It’s then that it finally hits me. He’s drunk. His skin is flushed and there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“Having fun at a party?” I reply mockingly.

“No,” he says as he takes a step closer. I draw in a breath and take one back. “You’re up to something. I’ve been watching you, I mean, you’re practically a full-time job, and all this time, you’ve been avoiding the Duke and circling the Vipers like a cat in heat. So…”

I don’t see him getting closer, but he’s now in my face, crowding me so much, I can feel the heat radiate off his body. “What are you up to?” he demands.

Anger gets the best of me. “I know the Little Prince is used to having his way,” I snarl as I move to push past him. “But not everything is your business.”

His body vibrating with rage, he grabs me by the waist and the very next second, I’m being taken away with such speed, my vision blurs to the point of blindness.

Chapter 22 - Quinn

“What did you just call me?” Faust snarls at me, his breath ragged.

For a second, I just blink at him, feeling disoriented and confused.

We’re alone in some deserted hallway off the Main Hall and my heart is pounding like crazy. I’m pressed against the wall with his hands caging me in. He’s fucking tall so I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes. They’re glazed and filled with rage as he waits for an answer.

“Little Prince,” I finally drawl. “Isn’t that what you are?”

“You know nothing about me.”

Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s drunk. I fight to stay still as the need to press myself closer to him threatens to drive me crazy. “I know you like to fight kids instead of fighting for them.”

“Yeah, what else?” he demands, his nostrils flaring.

“I know you like to stick your nose in random students’ lives instead of, I don’t know, making your subjects’ lives better or something?”

His chest heaving with all the rage, he grabs me by the waist.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at him as I try to push him away.

“Shutting you up,” he growls and crushes his lips on mine, pulling my body closer to his.

I let out a moan, the desire for him overpowering me. Before I know it, my hands are scrambling to feel all the stiff muscles of his chest and back, like they can’t do it quickly enough. I bite his lip and he gives off another low growl. He forces his tongue deeper inside my mouth and squeezes me even tighter, until I can feel nothing but the throbbing of his dick between my legs.

And just as I feel one of his hands traveling up my thigh, dangerously close to see just how wet he’s made me, I push it away. “No,” I say as I break free of his grip.

“Yes,” he breathes out as he tries to take my hand. I don’t let him.

I’m already turning to walk away when I hear him snarl under his breath, “Get back here, now.”

Almost instantly, I feel this strange pull, my mind losing control of my own body. I start to panic, but I’m already walking back, stopping only when I’m right in front of him, his hand already wrapping around my waist. My eyes round in shock as he leans close to whisper, “Just this once. I need to get you out of my system, Quinn.”

But as soon as he pulls back to look at my frozen face, a flash of surprise crosses his eyes and he quickly lets go of me. Completely. He takes a step back, but I’m so angry and I’m once again in control of my own body.

Without thinking, I tap the Element rune and I send him flying into the wall with a loud thump. My body shaking with rage, I walk up to him and ignoring the shock in his eyes, I drawl, “Don’t ever touch me again.”

With that, I turn on my heel and I walk away. By the time I’m back in the Main Hall, I feel like crying. I mean, I knew he was an asshole, but a straight-out danger?

Shaken up and pissed off, I try to find Nuala, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

And just as I think about leaving myself, I’m approached by a scrawny fae-blooded guy who just blinks at me. “What?” I snap at him and immediately regret it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry,” he starts, visibly embarrassed but pushing through it. “I just saw that you don’t have a date for the Grand Ball yet, and I’d like to be the one to take you.”

Once again, I feel watched. My eyes dart around the hall and I see Leo stare at me from a distance, sending me into another fit of rage. “You know what?” I turn to the guy, bitterness in my voice as I say, “I don’t think I want to go to another Ball, ever again.”

To my surprise, he laughs. “Gotcha.” He pauses before he adds, “And I guess you’re not really in the mood to talk, so I’ll be on my way.”

He’s so refreshingly normal about it all that I find myself stopping him. “On second thought,” I start, “why don’t you take me after all?”

He gives me a wide smile and says, “I’d be honored.” I hold out my hand and he slides a dandelion corsage around my wrist, shyly glancing at me as he does it.

I feel my lips curl into a smile and I’m just about to ask him his name, when I notice him freeze. I frown and I take a step back. He doesn’t say anything, he just walks past me and heads out of the Main Hall.

“Hey,” I call out to him, but he doesn’t react. It’s too strange, too fucking strange for me not to follow him. So I do. And he’s obviously under some spell, probably Leo’s, because he keeps walking in that strange, stiff way, as if he’s being controlled.

With bated breath, I follow him down a series of hallways, trying to get his attention as we go. But he doesn’t stop until we reach a door at the end. He opens it and I see there’s nothing below.

I gasp, thinking I’m about to see him jump. He looks over his shoulder and I can see the sheer terror in his eyes.

“Alright,” I yell out, not knowing what else to do. I rip the corsage off my wrist and I ask, “Happy now?”

I see the guy’s features soften as he gulps for air, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he scrambles to get away from the door.

I don’t linger. He’s safe so I’m already rushing to my room, desperate to see if another one of those sick messages will be waiting for me in front of my door.

And it takes me a bit to get there, but when I do, I see that my suspicions were very much founded. Panting, I reach down to grab the box of chocolates and rip the note off the fancy packaging.

“I see there’s been a misunderstanding,” the note starts, sending my heart racing once again. “No matter how pitiful your choice of date… you’re not allowed to have one.”

Chapter 23 - Quinn

It’s the morning of the first day of the second semester and I practically have the cafeteria to myself. I’ve never seen it this empty. And I guess the other students think it strange as well, at least judging by the way they keep lowering their voices.

Me? I’m trying to eat my breakfast burger, but I’m feeling quite disoriented now that I’m back at the Academy. I’ve spent the last month, that is, the holidays, binging my shows, going for my midnight runs and hanging out with Lisa.

Sounds pretty chill, doesn’t it? Sure, if you ignore the fact that I’m still stuck here — away from my old life, which at least had a clear purpose — and the nights, I think as I stare at one of the fountains in front of my table. Those, I spent tossing and turning, brainstorming how to prevent the bloodbath and avoiding thinking about anything else that had to do with the Academy. The events at the Ball, primarily. The actions of a certain someone, most decidedly.

Of course, Nuala was with me in a way. We spent a lot of time on video calls, mostly discussing the bloodbath plans, but also chatting about everything from next semester’s classes to my new stalker Leo.

I also tried, very hard, to get her to talk some more about her inability to shift. I asked questions and made suggestions, but she kept blowing me off. Then again, I still haven’t told her what happened with the asshole who used his fucking powers on me. I can’t bring myself to even start processing it.

When I snap out of it, I realize I’m gripping the fork so tightly, it hurts. I let out a sigh and I let it drop to the table. I’ve neither the time nor the energy for this shit. Especially since Nuala got stuck at home until tomorrow afternoon and the two of us were supposed to set the plan in motion. Today.

And just as I think about my friend and how much I miss her, she shoots me a text.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” it says. “Remember the plan and wait until I get there.”

The plan, for now, is to get Professor Mistila alone and try to make her talk about my parents.

“Have you ever seen me do anything stupid?” I type back, smiling as I grab my bag and leave the cafeteria.

She sends me an emoji that’s rolling its eyes at me. She wasn’t born yesterday, my friend. She knows exactly how anxious I am to jump on it.

But when I barge into the hallway leading to the West Wing, where most classrooms are, I see Harry walking straight at me. And the plan to join the Vipers is just a plan B for now and I know I’m supposed to go look for Professor Mistila first… But he’s here and, well, Nuala was right. If anyone knows anything about any sinister plans for the Third Round, it’s a Viper.

So I make a snap decision. I lower my head, pretending I’m on my phone, and I make sure to bump into him, full force.

“Hey,” he growls at me. “Watch where you’re going.”

“You watch where you’re going,” I snarl at him, fighting to look him straight in the eye, despite how menacing he looks.

He scoffs and then flashes me a predatory smile. Yes, just like that, I think to myself. “Little bird not so terrified now that she’s an Olarel?”

Holy shit, could this be going any better? I give him a smile and reach for my runes as I say, “I guess I’m much more at ease with my powers now.”

He bursts out laughing. “Your powers?” he replies mockingly. “You must be very good at hiding them then.”

With that, to my disappointment, he just pushes past me and keeps walking.

Damn it. Not biting, despite my stellar performance. But at least I can go see Professor Mistila, I think to myself as I keep walking. Letting out a sigh, I start turning corners and climbing stairs as I head straight for the offices where the professors spend their time between classes.

To get to Professor Mistila’s, I have to walk past countless others. Not all of them are occupied, but some have their doors wide open. And as I go, I see professors chatting amongst themselves, leafing through enormous leather-bound volumes and even doing experiments with strange-looking contraptions. I have to force myself not to stare when I walk past this one room where an old professor has a black vortex open right at its center, seemingly talking to someone on the other side.

But before I even reach her office, I see Professor Mistila walking back with a cup of steaming-hot coffee in her hand. When her eyes land on mine, I notice her flinch for a second.

Suspicious, I think to myself, but I throw on a wide smile and I walk straight up to her. “Professor, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”

“Can it wait?” she says with a tentative smile. “I have a class.”

Lying once again. I’d know because I’ve memorized her entire schedule. “Sure, I’ll just come see you again in a couple of hours,” I reply as I give her a wide, innocent smile.

While I wait for her imaginary class to end, I take a walk around the castle grounds. It just so happens that my general direction is the training grounds, where the Vipers can usually be found working out. And there she is, Zelda. Since I first saw her, I’ve found out that she’s probably to blame for the death of one of her neighbors. And now she’s stretching as if she’s just some girl in a yoga class. What can I say? Fate just keeps bringing me to them, I smile as I try to keep my eagerness in check.

“Mind if I join?” I ask as I approach her, choosing a less explosive method than with her colleague. I don’t even know where I’m going with it and it does seem a bit stupid, but hey, at least I’ve got her attention. She’s looking up at me as she gets out of the position.

It’s like freezing cold out here, but she’s in shorts and a tank top, looking as if the temperature isn’t getting to her at all.

For a second, I think she’s going to smile, but she just frowns and walks away.

Sheesh. I’m on fire here.

Luckily, I think it’s just about time to go back to chasing after Professor Mistila. I find her walking out of the classroom, chatting with one of her students.

This time, she doesn’t flinch when she sees me, but I can tell she’s not happy about it. “Quinn,” she says when I get close. And for a second, I expect her to blow me off again. “I guess I have some time right now, if you want to go for a walk.”

I nod happily and fall into step with her as she heads for the Elevator. “So what did you want to discuss? Are you interested in taking one of my advanced classes?”

“Actually…” There are others in the Elevator with us so I wait until we’re out to say, “I wanted to talk to you about my parents.”

I don’t stare, but I pay close attention to her reaction. She lets out a small sigh and asks, “What about them?”

“You helped me learn who my family is, but I still don’t know who brought me into this world.”

She stops to look at me. “For whatever reason, your parents aren’t in any of the records. Perhaps one of them was a bastard, or they’ve done something unforgivable. In any case, I don’t think you’ll be able to track them down.”

Really, I think to myself. How convenient. But when I reply, I make sure to look heartbroken. “That’s fine. I just want to know who they are. Or were,” I add in a sad voice. “And I thought you might help me with that.”

The professor just looks at me and for a second, I think she’ll finally give in. “I’m sorry, Quinn,” she finally says. “I just don’t know how.”

And with that, she leaves me standing in one of the courtyards, near a fountain that apparently froze over the holidays, its weathered stone cracked a little on the side.

For a moment, I just stare at it, frustration bubbling under my skin. But I shrug it off because there’s still one thing I can do. I don’t want to, but if I have to, I will.

It’s just that I’d rather wait for it to get dark. And until then, I can do some more work on trying to get close to the Vipers.

I wander around the castle grounds, stopping at a few spots to pretend I’m reading a book. But I don’t run into any of them.

It’s only a couple of hours later that I walk into the cafeteria to get some lunch and there she is. Sarya. And for the first time ever, she’s not with Harry and Zelda.

Ugh. I hate for her to be the one I have to talk to, simply because I think she’s a real bitch, but hey, it’s not like the rest of them wouldn’t be rated PG-18.

So I draw in a breath, whip out my phone and take a seat right next to her, even though there’s like a million other empty spots all around me.

I feel her looking up and staring at me, but I just keep pretending I’m texting. I’m hoping to piss her off enough to start talking to me.

But before I know it, I’m letting go of my phone, my hands flying to my neck because the scarf I have wrapped around it is becoming too tight.

The students all snap their heads in my direction as I scramble out of my chair. I turn to Sarya to see her standing to the side of the table, all the focus of her narrowed eyes directed at my neck.

I can’t speak. And I’m already panicking because, well, she’s trying to fucking choke me, the bitch. But she gives a strange whistle and I feel even more terrified when Zelda appears, as if out of thin air, closely followed by Harry.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sarya asks with a sly smile as she walks up to me.

She releases her grip enough for me to squeeze out, “I was just trying to get something to eat.”

As the other two glance at each other, she lets out a laugh. “Yeah, right. And what were you doing when you were accidentally bumping into Harry and Zelda?”

Goddamn it, I curse at myself. Can’t believe I underestimated them like that. So stupid, Quinn, so fucking stupid. I decide the best course of action would be to tell the truth. Part of it, at least.

“To be honest,” I wheeze out, “I want to become one of you.”

Now they all laugh. Perfect. Sarya takes a step closer, making me flinch a little. “Sure,” she says with another one of her sly smiles. “As soon as you get the Ringleader’s approval, who just happens to be our leader as well.” She pauses for effect. “I hear you’re real-life besties.”

With that, they all walk away, laughing their heads off. But that’s not why I’m fuming. It neither surprises nor gets to me, when an asshole acts like, well, an asshole. But realizing that the only person who could get me in with the Vipers is Faust… Let’s just say that that does get to me.

No, I think to myself as I go to my room to wait for the sun to set. If that’s what it would take, I’ll rather let them all die in that fucking bloodbath. After all, ever since the Ball, I haven’t even been able to look at a piece of news with his name in it. Not even when they were all gushing about him taking his new girlfriend on a cruise over the holidays. Of course, I couldn’t avoid seeing the pictures. And of course, the girlfriend is a thin blonde vampire girl. They all must be dying their hair to make him like them.

But as I watched him with his hand wrapped around her ethereally slim waist, her looking at him like he’s some kind of god walking this earth, all I could think about was murdering him with my bare hands.

So no, I’m not exactly ready to be asking him for any favors.

By the time I realize that Professor Mistila must be finishing up with the last class of the day, I’m still pissed, but I’m forcing myself to focus. Luckily, all I have to do is use a cloaking spell, find her when she’s on her way to her apartments and let Moswen take care of the rest.

It all goes smoothly enough. I sneak up on her while walking down one of the moonlit galleries, her steps echoing off the polished stone.

I stop walking. I dig the diary out of my bag and I crack it open, Moswen appearing before me. “I thought Nuala would be with you.”

I don’t tell her I’ve chosen to do this early. “It’s time,” I whisper.

It was Moswen’s suggestion. During one of our brainstorming sessions, she told Nuala and myself that this was something she’d be able to do, in case Professor Mistila proved to be a hard nut to crack. We practically squealed with delight.

Still, once she actually does it, I can’t help but draw in a breath. The image of her flickers before me, turning into the image of my mother, Syllia Olarel.

Without a word, she nods at me and glides over to where I can hear Professor Mistila walking. I creep closer, dying to see what happens.

Just as I thought, as soon as Syllia’s ghost appears in front of her, Professor Mistila stops midstep.

For a second, there’s only silence.

“Why did you turn my daughter away?” the ghost demands.

I see Professor Mistila frown. “Who are you?” she asks in a low voice.

“You know very well who I am.” I have to fight not to applaud Moswen for the way she does the spooky ghost voice. “I just wonder why you didn’t say as much when she asked for your help.”

There’s a moment of silence before the professor takes a step closer and speaks in a threatening voice, “I said, who are you?”

I frown. I heard her call my mother ‘my dear Syllia’. And now she’s asking her who she is? My mind is buzzing, but I can tell that Moswen is confused as well. Shit. I quickly close the diary shut, making her disappear.

The professor is now looking around. I duck, drawing in a panicked breath. She can’t see me and the spell should prevent her from sniffing me out, I tell myself.

But the sound of her footsteps is telling me she’s heading straight in my direction. It’s only when they stop a few feet from me that I dare to look up.

And there she is, squinting at me from above.

I slowly get up, not knowing whether to expect an attack.

“I have a sneaking suspicion…” She’s frowning, but she doesn’t look pissed. To my surprise, there’s concern in her eyes. “That this ghost I just saw was your doing. Explain yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Professor Mistila…” I mutter. Think, Quinn, think. Tell the truth, just not the whole truth. “I guess I wanted to entice you to talk. To be honest, I thought you were lying to me earlier.”

By the look on her face, she won’t be lingering on the details. “Why did you think that?” she demands.

“You seemed to be avoiding me.”

She pauses for a second, lets out a sigh and gives me an apologetic smile. “Well, I was… Before I realized you had no idea.”

I just blink at her, shaking my head a little to nudge her to keep talking.

“That I’m the one who spilled the news about you being an Olarel.”

“Right,” I say, shocked by the turn this took.

“I’m truly sorry, Quinn.” The professor shakes her head and clicks her tongue as she gives my upper arm a quick, awkward squeeze. “It’s not an excuse, but I had a little too much blood gin that day and things got out of control.”

“Right,” I echo myself from a minute ago. My mind wants me to be elsewhere, contemplating what just happened, but Professor Mistila is raising her finger at me.

“I’m glad you’re not upset, but let it be clear,” she says sternly. “The fact that I myself am to blame for some of it, that’s the only reason I’ll be letting this mischief of yours slide.”

“Thank you, professor,” I say, my voice absent-minded as I move to walk away.

As soon as Professor Mistila is out of sight, I whip out my phone and text Nuala.

“Nuala, I just talked to the professor. And the stuff that’s happening… It’s even stranger than we thought,” I type, thinking about what I’ve just learned.

Professor Mistila isn’t lying about not knowing my parents. She doesn’t even remember them.

“You did what?!” my friend types back. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do anything on your own.”

I feel so lightheaded, but I almost let out a laugh. I start walking, typing some lame attempt at a joke, my eye getting drawn to the Lilith Tower, the one where the vampires reside.

I stop and just look at it for a second, its ghostly outline seeming faint against the darkening sky. Thanks to all the confusion, it didn’t even cross my mind. Now that Professor Mistila is out of the picture, I only have the Vipers as a potential source of info. And they’ve made their terms perfectly clear.

No, I think as I shake my head, despite being all alone on the gallery. I’ll cross the mythical seven seas before I come to the Little Prince with a request of any kind.

Chapter 24 - Faust

Bloody hell, how infuriating can one girl be, I think to myself when I spot her from the window of my quarters in the Lilith Tower. Going to the graveyard as regularly as other students go for lunch.

The sword still in my hand, I get so immersed in watching her, I only notice my uncle when he’s already slipped the tip of his blade under my chin.

I crane my neck to look him in the eye. “I thought we were taking a break,” I protest.

He shrugs, feigning innocence, but doesn’t pull away. I tighten the grip on my weapon, take one clean swing and send his blade flying all the way to the other side of my newly refurbished gym. Then I trip him up and come to stand above him, the tip of my sword touching his Adam’s apple.

He lets out a chuckle and motions for me to help him get up. Once he’s on his feet again, he dusts himself off and says, “I can’t say you’re not in shape, Andreas, but we really need you to start taking the Trials more seriously.”

I scowl at him. “Uncle, I’m in training twice a day, every day.”

I turn my back to him and go to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The sun is yet to rise, but we’ve already spent a whole hour training.

I hear uncle follow me. “Yes, but something is distracting you.”

I gulp and I turn to him, forcing myself to look him straight in the eye. “Really? Where does it show exactly?” I ask flatly, I open the water bottle and I take my time emptying it.

I’m pretending to be clueless, but I know I’m still under the microscope for what happened at the Ball. I normally don’t let my control slip that way, getting drunk and letting paparazzi take shots of me inebriated.

“Maybe it doesn’t, yet,” uncle admits. “But I’ve never seen you this… intense.”

I let out a frustrated breath and I slam the empty water bottle on the counter next to the fridge. “How could I not be intense, huh? What’s the point of all this?” I ask with a wave of my hand.

Uncle frowns and then takes a step closer. “You know we’re not as powerful as we used to be, nephew,” he starts in a gentle voice, “which is exactly why it’s so important to be in control of our own image.”

“I’m not talking about the bloody Trials, uncle,” I snap at him and then let out a sigh. “I’m talking about my life.”

Uncle peers into my eyes. “Should I be worried about you, Andreas?” he asks cautiously.

“Look, uncle,” I start, “juggling being a student and a ruler takes a lot of work. And I honestly don’t mind, but what does my role as a prince amount to? Being a glorified diplomat who never gets to actually do anything, that’s what.”

This pisses him off, I can tell from the way he’s squinting at me. “Is that why I let you run things even before you’re of age, nephew? So you can complain about doing your duty?”

I scowl at him. “I know how important duty is, uncle,” I drawl, “I only wish it involved doing something meaningful.”

Uncle just looks at me for a second. Then he gets in my face and says, “The faes are more dangerous than they like to let on, the shifters are constantly in search of another war to wage and the Scions are apes in possession of increasingly dangerous toys. You don’t think keeping the bloody peace is meaningful?”

By the time he’s finished, his chest is heaving.

I make myself snap out of it. “You’re right, uncle. You won’t hear another word from me.”

He nods and straightens his shirt. “Good luck with the Count,” he says, his voice back to normal.

And with that, he leaves me to get ready for the meeting.

I just stand there for a second, trying to fight it. Then I walk up to the window and look out. No sign of the girl. Uninvited, the memory of her telling me never to touch her again floods my mind, making me want to smash things.

I turn on my heel and I walk out of the gym. Who the fuck does she think she is, I keep ranting as I make my way down the hallway leading to my bedroom. Once I’m there, I get out of my training clothes and start putting on my suit. Or better yet, does she seriously think I’d end up touching her if I weren’t wasted at the time?

Just the possibility of her walking around thinking that fills me with a burning rage. I’ve had women throwing themselves at me, gorgeous women, since before I knew what to do with them. How dare she think I’d ever even want to touch her again?

No, I tell myself as I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, I won’t waste another second thinking about her. I finish buttoning up my shirt, I take one last glance at myself in the mirror and I walk out of my bedroom.

As my assistant Max walks with me towards the drawing room, I straighten up and I smooth out my shirt. I take one deep breath and we go inside.

There, the old, dried-up Count Eichel and his minions are already waiting for me. They scramble to get out of their sofas to bow. “Your Majesty,” the Count immediately addresses me, “we apologize for the intrusion, but this is an urgent matter.”

When isn’t it, I think to myself as I take a seat, gesturing for the Count to start talking. The rest of them immediately follow suit. The Count is the Ambassador for House of Lilith in the Western Scion lands, which is why I have a sneaking suspicion he’ll be talking about the latest occurrence of the Originals breaking the Treaty.

He does. He tells me all about the vampire killing a couple of Scions, getting caught and causing an entire avalanche of responses from the human community.

And even if it weren’t the same old story told in a different way, I’d still know about it simply because I make sure to have eyes and ears everywhere. But I keep listening without letting this be known. It’s something I learned a long time ago. When you’re in a position of power, it’s sometimes better to keep those around you clueless as to the true extent of your knowledge.

As I listen to the Count drone on, I start wondering if she’s read about the incident. She probably has, a busybody such as herself. And what the fuck does she think she’s doing, trying to join the Vipers? Does she seriously think that I wouldn’t find out? That Sarya wouldn’t come running to me right after? And however I look at it, I don’t see a motive, but if there’s anything I know, it’s that she’s definitely up to something.

I frown, forcing myself to snap out of it. I’m not letting the ghost of that girl mess with my concentration three times before I’ve even had lunch. But when I shift my focus back onto the Count, I find that he’s once again being a complete idiot.

“He didn’t even feed on those two, he just killed them,” he tells me with conviction as he leans forward and presses one finger on the table, “and those fucking Lesser-”

“Scions,” I cut in.

“Scions,” he corrects himself, “are still demanding he be processed as an Anti-Treaty criminal.”

“Let me guess,” I say with a sigh. “You don’t want that to happen, do you, Count Eichel?”

“That’s right, Your Majesty.” The Count is nodding, although it’s clear that the tone of my voice is making him hesitate. “The man didn’t deserve it and the Lesser-”

“Scions,” I cut in, again.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says with a curt nod, “the Scions are only being emotional, as always-”

“Yes, they are,” I cut him off, slightly more forcefully this time, “I’ll give you that.” I lean a little forward, making the Count lean back. “But is their discontent with these things entirely unfounded?”

There’s a moment of silence before the Count blinks at me and mutters, “No, I guess it’s not.”

“Shouldn’t we give them what they want then, now that our primary goal is keeping the peace?”

The Count nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He pauses. “I understand and I will prepare a statement accordingly.”

Oh how I hate the guy and all his spinelessness, stupidity and carelessness. He moves to get up, but I raise my hand and he slumps back into his seat. I appear next to him, leaning forward as I say, “Also, it was three Scions and not two that the man killed.”

I can tell that he’s fighting to stay still, his eyes failing to look straight into mine. “If you wish to keep your position as Ambassador, you will have your facts straight at all times, understood?”

After my meeting with the Count, I have three more lined up so it’s after two o’clock that I finally get the chance to take a walk and clear my head a little.

Of course, as soon as I start roaming the castle garden by myself, it crosses my mind. The option to do it again, just like I did before, twice since the incident. The option to sniff her out and accidentally find myself walking past her. For whatever mysterious reason, she wants to join the Vipers, and they’ve told her exactly what she needs to do to achieve that. She needs to go through me.

When she does, I think to myself as I focus on sniffing out her blood, that annoyingly intoxicating blend of soft and sharp notes… When she does, I’ll find out exactly what she’s up to. How do I know she will? By the apparent struggle I saw in her eyes when I appeared in her sight. Yes, she threw daggers at me both times. And yes, she stomped away as quickly as possible. But she also hesitated, just a little. And a little more the second time around.

I’m already on my way to the Dame Gothel statue, where her scent seems to be strongest. And the closer I get, the more those images flood my mind. The images of her as she spun around the podium with me. I strain to recall, in as much detail as possible, the way it felt to have her so close, the curve of her waist, her skin, those eyes. My heart pounds in anticipation of catching another glimpse of her.

It’s only when I get close to the statue that I ask myself what the fuck I’m doing. Yes, the longing to see her makes me want to jump out of my skin. But that just makes for a very good reason not to do it. I’ve been under this girl’s spell for too long, I remind myself, ever since I first laid eyes on her before the opening ceremony. I simply can’t let her do this to me anymore.

So I turn on my heel and I walk away. I cut my lunch short, which gives me time to catch up on some classwork before a series of afternoon meetings and my last training session of the day.

But by the time I’m finished with all the endless obligations, watching news in my living room, I’m not any less restless than I was when I decided not to ‘bump’ into her. I soon find myself reliving, once again, the incident at the Ball. My body vibrates with rage as I imagine the look in her eyes. The disgusted look in her eyes before she threw me against the wall.

But it’s all fine, I think to myself as I flick through the channels, because when she finally comes begging for my help, I won’t just find out what the hell she’s up to. I’ll stare straight into those eyes and I’ll turn her down cold, I will.

It makes me feel a little better, imagining the look in her eyes when that happens. When she realizes what refusing me actually means.

I get so lost in these ruminations that I imagine I’m smelling her again.

Only, a moment later, it turns out it’s not my imagination after all. I jump to my feet, the scent of her blood getting stronger with each second. She’s close and getting closer, my heart responding with the usual tiresome pounding.

I hear a knock on my front door and the sound of her voice drifts up to me. She’s talking with Max. She’s here looking for me and I hear him telling her I’m not to be disturbed.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m at the door leading onto the foyer. I catch her just as she turns to leave. “It’s alright, Max,” I drawl in an effort to keep my voice from betraying my feelings, “I’ll see her.”

I notice the look she throws me when she turns to face me. I motion for her to follow me into the living room.

“No,” she snaps. “I’d rather not be alone with you.”

It makes me freeze for a second. Hot rage flooding my body, I squeeze out, “I don’t give a fuck. I won’t be talking to you in the foyer.”

With that, I turn on my heel and dart back into the living room, leaving the door open and trying to keep my body from shaking.

After a moment of hesitation, I hear her come in and her footsteps draw close. The fact of her actually being here makes me lightheaded so I busy myself with pouring vintage scotch into two crystal glasses from the bar. I need a second to collect myself before I can face her. Especially since I sense she’s pissed about me not addressing her directly, or pissed at me in general, and that fire of hers does things to me that are sometimes hard to control.

I finally turn to her, holding out a glass of scotch as I motion for her to take a seat.

She just shakes her head.

“Suit yourself,” I say flatly. I put her glass away and take my own with me as I throw myself on the sofa, not too far from where she remains standing. I don’t say anything. I’m waiting for her to talk and I’m going to relish it, I think as I lean back, opening my legs and throwing an arm around the backrest with the glass still in my hand.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” she starts, sounding as if she has to force each word out individually. “I want to join the Vipers, but apparently, I can’t do that without you giving me the green light.”

With that, as if she knows I’ll say no, she folds her arms in defiance and a wave of heat floods me from head to toe. I fight not to let my eyes drag over her body.

“Hmmm,” I say and I down the entire glass of scotch. The liquid burns my throat and I tip my head back a little, determined to look at her face and her face only. I lean forward, put the glass down and shake my head, pretending to be thinking. Should I drag it out or would it be sweeter to be blunt?

“For crying out loud,” she interrupts me, her face flushed, her arms lowered to her sides and her hands balled into fists. “If you’re going to say no, just fucking say it. I want no part of your lame power trip.”

My skin burning and my fangs fighting to be released, it takes all I have not to jump up and grab her. Instead, I force my voice to remain flat as I say, “Alright. Then no.”

She just stares at me for a second and then moves to walk away. Before I even realize it, I’m off the sofa, blocking her way out. “Why do you want to join?” I ask in a low voice.

“That’s none of your business,” she replies coldly.

“So it’s a whim.”

“No, it’s not,” she snaps at me. Now, that made her tick. I enjoy seeing her press her lips tight in an effort to control herself.

She hesitates for a second. “If you really need to know, I’m bad at using magic and I’d very much like to survive the Trials.”

“The truth,” I demand, being so close to her, especially with that flush on her face, becoming a bit too much for me to handle. “I want the whole truth.”

“Forget it,” she snaps at me and turns to walk away.

I move to grab her arm and force her to come back, but at the last second, I flinch and take a step back. “Wait,” I hear myself say.

She stops, but she doesn’t turn around.

“I’ll tell them you can join,” I squeeze out, despite the fact that it’s the last thing I need, to have more of her in my life.

She looks over her shoulder and I see suspicion in her eyes.

“But you need to promise to respect my authority as the leader of the group.”

I fully expect her to say no. It surprises me when she thinks for a second and then says, “Fair enough. I promise.”

Before I can do or say anything else, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room. Once she’s gone, I let out a breath and throw myself on the sofa. When I look down, I see that my hands are shaking. And all the blood in my body seems to be going straight to my dick. Perfect. That’s all I needed today.

I jump up and go straight to the bathroom. I’m going to take the coldest fucking shower ever and I’m not going to let her inside my head again.

But they test my willpower, the images of her that keep assaulting me as water runs down my naked body. The ones from the Ball are the hardest to keep out of my head. The way that her dress clung to her body, the way that her ass felt when I squeezed it, the way that that little moan that escaped her lips made me want to rip into her until I could no longer feel anything other than her.

The shower doesn’t help. Even after I’m out, my dick is throbbing, but I’m not planning on doing anything about it. Instead, I pace around the room, telling myself I’d sooner die than let myself fantasize about that rash, emotional, vulgar, naive, human-bred… girl.

It takes me a moment to realize that I’ve opened a hole in the wall with my fist. Pissed and tired at the same time, I yank my hand out and I go straight to bed, wanting the day to end as soon as possible.

I’m already under the covers when my phone pings, making my heart skip a beat. But it’s only Amelia.

“Exactly how late do you plan on being?” the text says.

Fuck. I forgot. “Sorry, Amelia, I’m just too tired.”

“But I’m wearing a super slutty dress.” There’s a winky face at the end.

“Tempting,” I text back. “But why don’t you go on without me?”

I can tell she’s upset by how long it takes her to reply with a simple, “Fine.” But the very thought of seeing her is off-putting at the moment.

I put my phone away and let out a sigh. Why did I do it, I scold myself. I said I’d refuse and yet, I didn’t. Why do I let her keep doing this to me? I roll to my stomach and I bite into my pillow, letting out a low groan.

But I know what I need to do. I’ll just stop coming to the Vipers’ training sessions. At least for a while, until I’m back in control. And back in control I will be.

Chapter 25 - Quinn

When Nuala finally meets me in front of the Library, I’m determined not to say anything until we’re already there.

As we walk, my friend keeps yawning and rubbing her eyes, thinking we’re in for another couple of hours of scouring all the books that mention any type of stone, magical or otherwise.

And we are, just not where we’ve been doing it the past couple of weeks. And Nuala is so sleepy, she doesn’t even notice where I’m taking her until we’re right in front of the door.

“The Restricted Section?” she reads the sign on the smooth wooden surface, frowning as she turns to throw me a scolding look. “Quinn, we all agreed that this would be our last resort.”

I don’t say anything. I just look over my shoulder to make sure there are no Librarians around us.

“You do understand,” Nuala hisses at me under her breath, “if anyone catches us, we’re in a world of trouble.”

“No one’s stopping you from leaving, Nuala.”

For a second, she just looks at me. Then she lets out a sigh and says, “Alright, lead the way.”

I crack open the door and throw a glance inside. “All clear,” I say, deciding to go first in case I’m wrong and there’s someone lurking in the shadows.

Once we’re inside and I hear Nuala closing the door behind us, I want to throw her a grin, but my eyes have gotten adjusted to the darkness enough for me to see the room we’ve found ourselves in. We both gasp at the very same time. It’s not that I expected anything in particular, but the enormity of the space and the height which the bookshelves around us reach is simply astounding, especially coupled with the stained glass windows that look large enough to be found in some cathedral. They’re casting soft light on specks of dust and weathered volumes alike.

I don’t waste any time. I crack open the diary and Moswen appears in front of us. I see her lips start to curl into a smile, when she notices where we’ve brought her. “Quinn,” she starts, her eyebrows pulling down in surprise.

But I don’t let her talk. “I know what you’re going to say.” I’m speaking in a low voice, just in case. “But it’s not like we’ve found anything of any use so far and we’re running out of time.”

Even before I’m done talking, she’s shaking her head. “It’s not even March yet, we still have over four months.”

“Exactly, only four months,” I insist, fighting not to raise my voice. “And in case you’re not aware, my first training session with the Vipers is tomorrow.”

“And that’s worth risking everything?” she practically hisses at me, making Nuala squirm where she’s standing.

I don’t want to fight with her, but the growing fear of facing some of the deadliest students at the Academy gets to me. “The Vipers are already suspicious of me. You want me to try to get them to talk without even knowing what about?”

“I want you to be careful, for once,” she snarls at me.

She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s referring to the time I went to Professor Mistila behind her back. It makes me let out a frustrated growl. “For the billionth time, I said I was sorry.”

“Not sorry enough not to do it again, apparently,” Moswen scoffs, throwing daggers at me.

I have to fight not to yell at her. “Who the fuck do you think you are, my mother?”

That shuts her up alright. And the hurt look on her face almost makes me take it all back, but then she turns her fucking back to me and says in that flat voice of hers, “I don’t care what you do. However, I won’t have any part of it.”

My hands are balled into fists and my eyes are burning holes in the back of her head, but all I do is snap, “Fine,” and close the diary shut with one violent movement.

When I turn to face her, Nuala is looking away, her eyebrows raised and her lips pressed tight.

“You plan on giving me shit, too?”

“No, ma’am,” she says without a moment of hesitation.

It almost makes me laugh, but we’ve no time to waste. I motion for her to follow me as I venture deeper into the Restricted Section, the dusty bookshelves towering over me on each side.

And there are some disturbing titles in here. I mean, I think as I scan the titles, Blood Manipulation Level 1?

I thumb my nose, but then my eye lands on something interesting. Shifter Psychopharmacology. I grab it from the shelf and crack it open, hungrily searching the Table of Contents.

“Nuala,” I whisper and she comes to stand behind me, peering over my shoulder. “There are plants you can use to induce your first shift. And look, this one plant, I know I’ve seen it at the graveyard.”

When she says nothing, I crane my neck to see her throwing me a pissed-off look. “I thought I told you to leave it alone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a sorry look in my eyes and I quickly go back to looking for the books for our research. Luckily, it doesn’t take us long to find a decent number of contenders.

We take as many books as we can carry and find a seat close to one of the cathedral windows. “To start,” I say to Nuala as I crack open the first book, “let’s focus on the mystery stone. We can do mentions of the Trials later.”

My friend nods and gets to work. And I know how much she doesn’t like doing research, so I throw her a grateful look before I bury my nose in the book in front of me.

There are only a couple of moments of silence before I hear Nuala let out a squeal. “Ah, the Navarre stone.”

I look up, my heart skipping a beat as I wait for her to keep going. “It says here that just being close to it makes you see the entire color spectrum.”

I let out a sigh, cursing myself for getting my hopes up. “Yeah, I don’t think so. The power that my parents talked about has to be greater. Also, I don’t think it can be something we have very ordinary technology for.”

It’s comical, the way Nuala’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “Guess you’re right. I’ll just keep looking.”

A few hours in, we find ourselves with a bunch of notes on every kind of stone there is. Moon stone. Blood stone. The Banshee Stone. Even one stone, the Mhaenal Stone, that’s been in the property of the Academy for centuries, but there’s no mention of it having any powers. It’s just a weird-looking stone some General brought over from the faraway lands that we today know as South America.

I let out a sigh and glance around. We haven’t even scratched the surface, let alone started on researching the Trials, but I’m worried about the growing possibility of someone catching us red-handed.

Disheartened and pissed about my fight with Moswen, I suggest we leave and come back another day. Nuala seems thrilled, but once we’re out of the Restricted Section and back to walking around the castle, my mind rushes to tomorrow’s training session, again.

“Everything will be okay,” my friend stops to tell me, smiling as she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’re going to kick their fucking asses and find out everything you need to find out.”

It’s as if she can read my mind. “I know.” I force myself to throw her a grin.

But it’s not just the Vipers I’m worried about. It’s their leader as well. And I haven’t confided in either Nuala or Moswen, but I’m afraid I don’t know Faust’s real motive for letting me join the team and the thought fills me with dread.

Chapter 26 - Quinn

The next morning, I have to drag myself out of bed. It’s five AM and it’s fucking cold outside, but the Vipers don’t seem to like having their sessions indoors, even if it means the risk of losing a limb or two. So I let out a low groan, I pull on my clothes and I head straight for the training grounds.

A part of me hopes that this is all some kind of prank. That they’ve arranged for me to show up while they’re all still snoring away in their respective Houses. But there they all are and they seem to have started without me.

As I approach, I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice Faust is not there. But as soon as my eyes land on Sarya blasting the straw dummies to pieces with her fire magic, all that relief shrivels up and dies on me.

“Look who was crazy enough to actually show up,” Harry drawls mockingly as soon as he sees me.

Before I even realize what’s going on, the four of them have me surrounded. “What should we do with her?” Sarya asks as she throws the rest of the gang amused glances.

“I know,” Leo says with a sly smile. “What’s your record for those flexed arm hangs, Harry?” He turns to the shifter, who lets out a rough chuckle before he says, “Three minutes and five seconds.”

A couple of them give a low whistle, making me frown. “I’m here to work on my magic, not do PE.”

“You’re here to do whatever we think you should do,” Leo gets in my face.

Perfect, I think to myself. Now I have to suffer the consequences of pissing off my very own crazed stalker.

“Flexed arm hangs, you say?” I squeeze out, fighting to make my voice chirpy as I add, “Bring it on then.”

“Perfect,” Sarya says. “And remember, you’re only done with your first exercise after you’ve broken Harry’s record.”

As if that’s ever going to happen, I think to myself. They all laugh and go back into their positions, while I look around, blinking stupidly. “How am I supposed to do them?” I ask Sarya when I realize there are no overhead bars I could use.

She’s already started sparring with Harry. She stops to look over her shoulder and points at something so far away from where we’re standing, I can barely see it.

“What the,” I start, breaking off almost as soon as I start.

It won’t just be impossible for me to finish the exercise. It also ruins any chance I have of starting a conversation with any of them. But I grit my teeth and start walking to the far end of the training grounds, aware that anything I say in protest to their decision will only be viewed as either nagging or a sign of weakness. And I won’t be giving them that satisfaction. Nope, not me.

Of course, my first attempt at doing a flexed arm hang ends up just as I expect it to. With my body coming crashing to the ground after only a couple of seconds, my arms shaking from the effort. Now, I’m not some weakling. I’m wiry and I have thighs of steel thanks to years of doing midnight runs, but my arms are a whole other story. Lisa used to joke that they have the strength and resilience equivalent to that of cooked pasta.

Still, I keep at it. After a couple of dozen tries, I manage to do fifteen seconds. Fifteen. And I actually feel proud of myself, for that one second before I notice a stir among the gang.

I drop to the ground and squint in their direction. It doesn’t take me long to realize that the Little Prince himself has graced us with his presence. Goddamn it, I think to myself as I catch my breath, watching him talk to Harry. It’s been two months since the Ball and I still can’t even look at him without it sending me into a fit of rage. And it sure as hell didn’t help that I had to grovel at his feet just to be allowed to be here. But of course, that won’t be the end of my misery. Because I’m sure it won’t be long before he comes to smirk at me, taking advantage of this change in our dynamic.

But he doesn’t. While he’s still talking to Harry, I think I see him glancing in my direction, even though he’s so far away. But then he just starts sparring with the rest of them, so as I’m hanging off the bar, my entire body shaking, I can see him fighting the others and, well, wiping the floor with their butts.

Of course, it makes me want to leer. Faust is a pompous, vile, inconsiderate, privileged fucker. But that doesn’t make him any less hot. And the fact that it all looks so effortless, when he manages to send someone flying to the ground… Let’s just say it makes me even more pissed, which doesn’t help my attempts at breaking Harry’s record.

At one point, Faust leaves and I see the others disperse as well. No one throws as much as a glance at me. And of course, I haven’t made a lot of progress, my new record being just shy of eighteen seconds. But as I make my way back to the castle, I conclude that I’ll have to get used to it. Even if I managed to do what they wanted me to, which is absurd, they’d just come up with another way to torture me as they keep me far away from them.

And hey, at least I’m no longer actively scared for my life with them, but the entire purpose of this thing is to get them to talk to me.

That makes me want to ask Moswen for advice. And I’m in my room already, which means there’s nothing stopping me from talking to her. Except the bitch version of myself from yesterday, I think to myself as I let my aching body collapse onto the bed.

But almost immediately after my head touches the pillow, I sit back up and pull my bag over. I take the diary out and I draw in a breath.

“Moswen,” I tell her as soon as she appears, despite that frown still twisting her pretty face.

“What would you like me to do this time, oh exalted master?” she snaps.

I try to ignore the ugly pang of guilt that shoots through me. Sniveling apologies won’t do us any good. “Moswen,” I repeat, adding a touch of tenderness. “I actually wanted to apologize to you.”

I see her shift a little, as if this wasn’t what she expected.

But she doesn’t say anything, so I just keep talking. “Look, there’s been a lot going on that I’m just not used to. Don’t get me wrong,” I rush to add, “I’m not some delicate flower. I never had a family and the things my foster parents did to me, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t put them in a children’s book…”

I finish with a weak laugh, frowning a bit when I see that Moswen seems to be pitying me. I draw in a breath and when I speak again, my voice is controlled and filled with determination. “But that’s not the point. The point is, all this stuff that’s happening, it’s so different from the troubles I’m used to. And I guess I let it all get to me. But that’s not what I’m sorry for…”

She tilts her head a little.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I know you’re not just trying to get out of this whole magical-diary situation. You’re trying to look out for us as well, and I kind of made it hard for you with my shitty behavior.”

I pause, happy to see her face visibly softening. “But I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

There’s a moment of silence before she nods and says, “Apology accepted.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, moving as if to hug her, only at the last second realizing what I’m doing. We both laugh.

“Did you find anything?” she asks, referring to our illegal search for info on the mystery stone. Her voice is much warmer now.

I shake my head, my lips pressed tight.

“Any luck with the Vipers?”

“No, and I don’t expect it to change anytime soon.”

She thinks for a second. “You know,” she starts, her voice much warmer now, “I really was trying to protect you. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand the urgency of the task before us. And it’s dangerous…” She pauses for a second as if she’s still unsure, making my ears prick up. “But there’s something I’d like to suggest.”

With that, she just looks at me, making me wave my hand at her to keep talking.

“I happen to know where to find Dame Gothel.”

There’s a second of silence, during which my eyebrows pull down in confusion. “Dame Gothel? The one whose statue we have in the garden? The witch from Rapunzel?”

“Witches don’t exist, Quinn.”

“Of course, I know,” I rush to say. “That’s just what humans used to think faes are. But however we choose to call her, how would Dame Gothel help us? Keeping princesses locked in towers doesn’t exactly match our requirements,” I finish with a laugh.

“That particular story is beyond reductive,” Moswen says with an impatient wave of her hand, nipping my curiosity in the bud. “She’s someone you can strike a deal with,” she says with a fire in her voice. “Whatever you need, whether it’s unbreakable armor or a piece of information on a mysterious stone, beings like her can give it to you.”

I shake my head. “Beings like her? I thought she was a fae like us.”

Moswen leans forward and practically whispers, “Imagine a fae that doesn’t let herself be limited by our society.” There’s a glimmer in her eyes as she says it and her words make shivers travel down my spine. “One that has ventured so deeply into the Great Unknowns of Divine Magic that she’s practically one with nature. That’s Dame Gothel.”

Perfect, I think to myself. As if going to Faust wasn’t enough. “And that’s who you want me to ask for help?” I ask with a feeling of dread wrapping around my entire body.

“Help?” she says with a laugh. “No need to worry about that. If she agrees to give you what you want, it’ll be for a price.”

“So comforting,” I blurt out, wondering what the hell I’m getting myself into. But it was only a few moments ago that I decided I’d approach this whole situation with a lot more courage and determination.

So I guess this is the universe’s way of saying, “Fuck you, you asked for it yourself”.

Chapter 27 - Quinn

It’s the dead of night and every sound you make echoes through the deserted hallways with such smug vengeance, but Nuala and I still manage to get to the Door without anyone seeing us. It’s the one by the statue of the Frog King, one of only two spots on the castle grounds that allow you to use the Pull.

And it’s not forbidden for students to use them, provided you do it before curfew and fill out a form, informing the Faculty of the reason for your departure, the expected time of return and so on and so forth.

And it’s not like I can write ‘visiting the witch from Rapunzel’. So we take advantage of the cover that the night provides.

“Sure you want to do this?” Nuala asks when we stop before the Door.

“Sure you want to come with?”

She lets out a sigh, but she nods. We approach the Door in silence. It’s just a strange shimmer in the night air that you have to walk into. And if you don’t want it to spit you out someplace random, you have to tell it where you want to go.

Squeezing the bag in which I’m carrying the diary, I take Nuala by the hand and we nod at each other. The woods at the edge of the world, I think to myself as I let the current drag me in.

The Pull turns out to be just as awful as the first time I used it. Once we’re on the other side, I take a few wobbly steps to the side to puke my guts out. I hear Nuala doing the same.

But when I straighten up and look around, I forget all about the lingering queasiness in my stomach. The gasp that comes from Nuala’s mouth tells me she’s just as dumbfounded.

The woods in which we find ourselves is deep and dark, the thick, gnarly trees barely letting any moonlight through. Still, there’s a strange glow to it all, as if everything around us is part of a single beating heart.

I only snap out of it when Nuala jabs me with her elbow. I turn to her, mouthing ‘What’.

She points at the gigantic tree right in front of us. It’s by far the largest, so large, in fact, that someone has made it their home. At least judging by one door and two windows fitted into its trunk.

And just as we stare at it, the tree starts glowing brighter and I feel eyes on me, from everywhere around me. I grab Nuala’s hand, but nothing happens.

At least until a few seconds later, when I hear a creak and the door slowly opens, making my heart skip a beat. I squint to see better, but there’s no one standing next to it. Or behind it.

I gesture for Nuala to keep silent. I draw in a breath and I dig the diary out of my bag. Once Moswen is in front of us, I gesture at the door, not saying a word as I do it.

Moswen takes a quick look, turns back to me and says, in a voice that doesn’t seem to be hiding fear, “She’s invited you inside.”

“Oh.”

I turn to look at Nuala, determination on my face. She seems to be just as ready as I am.

We slowly approach the house and walk inside. The interior is rough, but pleasant. There’s a straw bed in one corner and a table with a single chair in the other. The center of the room is dominated by a hearth that seems to grow out of the back of the tree itself. The coals in it are softly crackling, burning with the same glow as the forest itself, just stronger. It makes me frown, thinking there’s something strange going on here.

And just as I think that, I imagine that the coals have just let out a deep, soothing sigh.

The sigh turns into soft-spoken words, “My apologies for greeting you like this, little ones.”

My eyebrows raised, my eyes dart between Nuala to my left and Moswen to my right. They seem to be just as surprised by the turn of the events.

But the talking coals just keep, well, talking. “Wintertime makes me tired of my usual vessel. I prefer to spend it this way. It’s much more relaxing.”

I muster the strength to talk. “No need to apologize, Dame Gothel.” I rush to add, “If that is how you like to be addressed.”

“That’s of no consequence whatsoever,” the coals reply, the sound carrying a note of impatience. “What have you come to ask of me?”

“I need information on a certain stone,” I say, realizing that the rest of the conversation will sound even more stupid.

“Which stone?”

“That’s the thing,” I start, not without hesitation. “I don’t know.”

“Is this some kind of jest?” the coals ask in a voice that doesn’t try to conceal the irritation.

“No, of course not,” I rush to say. “I can’t tell you which stone, but there are other things I can… divulge,” I choose to say, feeling a strange need to sound more formal.

“Divulge them then,” is the response I get.

I hesitate a bit. “I can tell you it’s a powerful stone…” As I talk, I straighten up and I start using a more determined tone of voice. “A stone someone is planning on stealing during the Third Round of the Grimm Academy Trials. And I can also tell you it happened once before, in 2005, and almost ended in a bloodbath.”

There’s a moment of silence as the coals in the hearth burn a little brighter.

I hear a quiet chuckle. “Not almost,” Dame Gothel finally says.

I frown, sensing my two companions shifting on their feet. “What do you mean?” I ask.

“If you want me to tell you more, you need to pay first.”

I draw in a breath, my heart throbbing from the excitement. “Tell me your price,” I say.

“You,” Dame Gothel replies, the coals letting out a little sigh as she does. “Stay here, bond with my home and I’ll help you prevent the bloodshed.”

“So there will be a bloodshed,” I say at the same time as Moswen takes a step closer and asks, her voice shaking a little, “Why would you want her?”

The coals flicker and the light in them dies down so quickly, it makes me look around with bated breath. And sure enough, the ashes get swept into the air and before I even realize what’s happening, she’s towering over the three of us, a huge woman seemed to made up of clay and twigs and moss, shooting Moswen an angry look.

“You dare to inquire about my reasons?” her voice thunders, making me all but pee my fucking pants. “A price is a price. If the girl doesn’t wish to pay, she may take her leave.”

“I want to pay,” I blurt out, my mind buzzing as it rushes to grasp everything that’s going on. With the corner of my eye, I see that Moswen is throwing me a nervous look. I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice Dame Gothel returning to the form in which we found her. “I’d just like to know exactly what I’m committing to. What does bonding with your home mean and what would you expect me to do here?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” she says. “Your blood is powerful and you will be one with my home, making it easier for me to protect it from the hordes that keep coming, trying to steal my powers.”

“I see,” I reply, hesitant about negotiating with such a powerful being.

“Take her blood then,” Moswen cuts in, her voice rushed and shaky.

I almost snap at her when I see that she’s made the coals burn brighter in fury once again. But I decide it’s worth a shot.

“Dame Gothel,” I say, forcing myself to straighten and push my chest out, “I understand that a being such as yourself could be unjust with no consequence whatsoever. Yet you make sure that the deals you strike with those lesser of you are always fair.”

I pay attention to the way the coals are reacting to my words. And they seem to be listening. “However, in this particular case, considering I’m only asking for a single piece of information, the name of the stone, I think giving you my blood would be a fair trade.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which I hear my heart pounding so loudly, I’m afraid everyone can hear it.

But then there’s that low chuckle again and I hear Dame Gothel say, “Fair enough. Give me your blood and I will tell you the name of the stone. And nothing else,” she warns.

At that, I hear a rattle coming from my right. I look in its direction and see a knife writhing against the wooden surface of the table.

Holy hell, what am I doing, I think to myself as I approach the table and take the knife in my hand. I force myself not to hesitate. The quicker I am, the less painful it will be and the sooner this will all be over, I tell myself.

So I slice the skin of my palm, wincing at the pain that shoots through my hand. It’s only when dark-red liquid comes rushing out do I realize I’ve no idea what to do with it.

I turn back to the hearth, a drop of my blood falling on the beaten earth under my feet. As soon as it makes contact, my mind goes into overdrive. I feel being pulled in by another consciousness, my mind exploding with images of births and deaths of entire civilizations.

My heart throbbing, I snap out of it to see the coals glimmer with satisfaction.

That makes the building tension inside me loosen up a bit, but I also feel strangely lightheaded. As if someone knocked all the air out of my lungs by making me look into the depths of something I didn’t even know existed.

“Thank you, this was delicious,” Dame Gothel says with a slow exhale. “Now for my end of the bargain.” She pauses for a second before she adds, “the name of the stone you’re talking about is the Semper Stone.”

I’m having trouble breathing and it seems that Nuala has taken note of it, at least judging by the way she rushes to my side and helps me stay upright. “Thank you, Dame Gothel,” I manage to squeeze out. “We’ll be taking our leave now.”

She stops me with another chuckle. “You know, you act tough, little one, but I could taste all the fear in your blood.”

I just blink at her.

“You’re scared of being a fae. Scared of your own power.” She pauses before she adds, “But is that really how you want to live your life?”

I frown, but she obviously doesn’t expect me to answer because the door to her house opens with a thud, signaling it’s time for us to leave. I have to fight to make it outside, even with Nuala’s help, as the witch’s words echo in my head. Not almost, she said when I mentioned the bloodbath that nearly happened in 2005. Not almost.

Chapter 28 - Quinn

Aweek after our visit to Dame Gothel, I have another training session scheduled with the Vipers. I feel like I’ll only be getting myself into more trouble by actually showing up, but I don’t let it stop me. I get up at the crack of dawn, again, and make my way to the training grounds with my shoulders slumped and my face taking on a more sour look with each step. It’s haunted every moment of my waking life since it was revealed to me.

That my parents have probably been dead for a really long time and that it’s more than likely that they were killed in some horrible bloodbath.

No wonder I get that feeling when my mother visits me in my nightmares, looking at me, without ever blinking, with eyes full of some secret anguish.

Of course, I think to myself as I approach the training grounds, it would be nice if I got something else out of Dame Gothel, other than trauma and the name of a stone that apparently does nothing at all and doesn’t seem to have any connection whatsoever to the Trials. Nuala and I would know. We’ve searched everywhere. The only thing we’ve found is that there’s another name that the stone goes by. The Mhaenal Stone, that same stone I read about weeks ago. But it’s so insignificant that there’s only two mentions of it, both in some history of Grimm Academy.

So it’s absolutely delightful that on top of all that, I need to spend time among the Vipers again.

And I absolutely need to. Even if our visit answered all our questions, which it didn’t, there’d still be the matter of the Second Round of the Trials, which is barely a month away, on April 30th. And as much as I don’t believe the Vipers will intentionally help me get better at Magic, I’m hoping that just being around them and watching them train will improve my chances of surviving.

When I finally see them, splayed out on the only couple of benches on the entire training grounds, I breathe a sigh of relief. Their stuff strewn casually all over the low table in the center, they’re laughing as they listen to Harry read something to them from his phone. They seem, well, not pissed, and they haven’t started without me.

The chatter dies down a bit as they turn to watch me approach. I notice the way Leo looks at me, a frown etched into his forehead. But when Sarya says, “Who do we have here?” and the tone of her voice is not menacing, I almost crack a smile.

“Not someone who likes to get up at dawn, that’s for sure,” I say, attempting to start making friends with them. Although, I’d settle for becoming former enemies as well.

“We were just reading about you,” Harry starts as I take a seat, forcing myself to leave some, not too much space between them and myself.

I open my mouth, but Zelda rushes to say, “Yeah, and it seems like you’re someone much more interesting than we thought.”

I’ve never seen her look intrigued before. It’s also the first time she’s ever addressed me. She’s smiling at me, but I’m sensing a trap. “Really? How so?”

Harry practically barks with delight as he holds his phone up and starts reading loudly and performatively. “Fascinated by the story of Quinn Longborn, the mediocre Scion turned the only surviving Olarel? Well, let me tell you the truth that no one wants to admit.”

“No, read that last bit, H,” Zelda cuts in.

As he pauses to scroll, I dig my nails into the palms of my hand, trying to keep it cool. It was my choice to stay out of the loop with the tabloids, but I guess they’re taking it away from me. Chill, Quinn, chill.

“So, we have a young penniless woman who claims to be of noble origin, but there are no records of her parents even existing. And then we see that same young woman throw herself, time and again, at our prince? Is that really not enough for us to see the plain truth behind all that seductive glimmer? That Quinn Longborn is just a modern-day version of the Princess Anastasya wannabe trying to play a trick on her wealthy, supposed grandmother.”

By the time he’s done, I can feel my cheeks burning from all the rage and for a second, the world around me turns liquid. There’s a moment of silence before I manage to squeeze out, “Had your fun?”

“At least now we know,” Leo surprises me by speaking, “why you wanted to join our little club.” There’s venom in his eyes.

I start getting up. “I don’t give a shit what you know or don’t know,” I say to him in a tense voice and I turn to the others. “If you’re done playing Gossip Girls, I’d like to start training.”

“Sure,” Sarya drawls, craning her neck to point at a table a ways off, strewn with all kinds of weapons. “Today we thought we’d practice a little hand-to-hand combat. See that mallet over there?”

“I think I do.”

“We need you to get it here,” she says as she throws me a vicious smile, “but you have to stay where you’re standing.”

I just look at her for a second. I hear the others sniggering. And there’s no way I can do the thing she’s asking me to, but I choose not to complain.

“Alright, I guess I’ll get started on that then,” I squeeze out as I throw them all one wide, fake smile and start getting into the right stance to use the Element rune.

I block out their sniggering and focus on getting into the right mindset. Part of my mind does register Sarya using her runes to summon a couple of other weapons so the rest of them can start sparring.

But I’m busy working on an idea. Sure, neither my Air nor Earth magic would be strong enough to get this done, but what if I use them together? If I use Earth to get the mallet out of the rack and Air to summon it to my feet?

But not a minute goes by and Leo appears to my side, breaking my concentration with his creepy stare. “You know, I could get them off your back. You only need to say a word.”

“Which one? So I make sure I don’t say it,” I hiss at him without turning to look into his eyes.

There’s a moment of silence before I hear him expel an angry breath. He grabs my arm and makes me look at him. “Maybe you’re not aware of this, but I come from an obscenely rich family. My wealth actually exceeds the prince’s.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you were the last man on earth,” I reply as I yank his hand away. I’m feeling even more lightheaded now and my vision changes again, so I take a step back.

He just takes one closer to me. “Right,” he drawls, but I can tell he’s having trouble controlling himself. “I see you’re sticking to your little story, but I know exactly what you are.”

“Say it,” I snap at him, my voice low and threatening, even though he could break my neck without lifting a fucking finger. “I dare you.”

“Gold digger.”

“You fucker,” I snarl as I throw a helpless punch at him.

He blocks it with ease and laughs. “So sad, how it shows that you’ve never had any parental guidance,” he adds as he twists my arm painfully.

Fuming. I’m fucking fuming. “What did you say about my parents?” I yell at him, yanking my arm free and imagining lifting him up and throwing him to the ground like the piece of worthless shit that he is.

Dame Gothel’s words rush to my mind and I decide to let it all go. I tap my Element rune.

The very next second, I see a flash of surprise in Leo’s eyes before I send his body flying into the air. It comes crashing down with such brutal force that I hear bones cracking. He’s on the ground, screaming in pain, and now the others are all surrounding us, throwing me funny looks.

Holy fucking shit, what did I just do?

And just as I think they’ll kill me right here and now, a familiar voice booms from behind my back. “What the fuck is going on here?”

I crane my neck to see the Little Prince walking up to us, his face sharp with fury. I’ve never seen him so pissed.

“Longborn attacked Leo,” Sarya rushes to say as she crouches next to him, feigning concern, I’m sure. “I saw it, he did nothing.”

Nothing? I open my mouth to protest, but I change my mind. Fuck. If I want the Vipers to respect me, I can’t be ratting them out to their leader. Also, I’ve just let myself listen to some old witch’s advice and it resulted in me seriously hurting someone, so it’s not like I’m without blame here.

Faust doesn’t wait for me to react. When he moves towards me, I take a step back, fully expecting him to yell at me. But I just see him frowning as he scans me for injuries and then turns his focus onto Leo, who’s still on the ground.

“You want me to believe that she,” Faust points to me as his eyes sweep over the group, his voice much calmer now and carrying a touch of mockery, “managed to do this to him? Without getting a scratch herself?”

No one wants to look him in the eye, but they’re all nodding away. And I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but that would be plain stupid. Just as I struggle for control, he finally turns to me and looks me straight in the eye, the intensity of his gaze freezing me in place. “Is this true? That you attacked him first? It wasn’t the other way around?”

“No. I attacked him,” I force myself to say. “I lost control for a second and I apologize. I won’t let it happen again.”

I see a flash of surprise in his eyes. And he still looks a bit suspicious, but he nods. His eyes sweep over the rest of the Vipers. “I don’t care what you all think you’re doing,” he starts, commanding the entire group with his mere presence. “And I especially don’t care what you all think of her,” he adds, to my endless fucking surprise, “but as long as you’re part of the Vipers, I expect you to act with a lot more integrity and respect for each other than this.”

I’m so shocked at his reaction that I don’t say anything. I just watch the rest of them lower their heads and nod, a couple of them throwing a glance at me before they turn to resume their sparring session.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Faust’s voice once again makes them all freeze in place. He just quirks an eyebrow at them and says, “You’ve just lost the privilege to train today. You’re all dismissed.”

None of them look pleased, but they immediately start dispersing. My mind buzzing, I breathe a sigh of relief and start turning to walk away.

“Except for you,” I hear Faust say.

I turn to face him, but I don’t say anything.

“I need a word with you,” he says, motioning for me to take a seat on one of the benches. I let out a sigh, but I listen. He takes the seat across from me. For a second, I’m busy hating how hot he looks and how good he smells.

“Look,” I start, confused and bewildered at the thought of being alone with him. “I did lose control for a second, but I did say I was…”

“I’m well aware,” he cuts in, raising his hand to shut me up, the fucker, “of your ridiculously short temper. But it must have been something major, that made you lose control like that. Does it have anything to do with your secret reason for being here?”

It’s a stab that would normally make me instantly start fuming, but I’m still too busy processing the way he reacted to the whole Leo situation. “What’s the point of this?” I choose to say. “I have classes to prepare for.”

He ignores my attempt at ending the conversation. “What is the point?” he asks mockingly. “You think it’s ridiculous for me, the Vipers’ leader, to make sure they don’t all kill each other over some wannabe spy?”

“I thought you at least wouldn’t mind getting rid of Leo,” I start, “considering how much the two of you seem to love each other.”

He just looks at me for a second. “When you’re a prince, you get used to people like Leo. People who think some great injustice has been done to them simply because they’re not the ones in your shoes.” He pauses before he says, “But you’re dead wrong if you think I’m letting you change the subject.”

I just look at him for a second, a strange idea taking root in my head. “Fair enough,” I finally say, “I’ll tell you why I joined the Vipers.”

At least part of the story, I think to myself. “If you promise not to breathe a word of it to anyone,” I add.

He leans back and squints at me, not saying a word. That’s how much I surprise him. But he doesn’t give me time to revel in it. “Alright, I promise,” he says.

I squint at him suspiciously.

He lets out a sigh. “I’m sure you’d like to believe otherwise, but if nothing else, I’m a man of my word.”

“Alright,” I reply with a nod. I pause for a second before I ask, “You’re an orphan like I am?”

Of course, I know he is. But he doesn’t know that. And it seems that the question takes him by surprise. It takes him a while to say, “I’m much more than that. But yes.”

“Well,” I start, making sure to tell the truth. Just not all of it. “Just a while ago, I learned that my parents, my real parents, are probably dead.”

“I thought no one knows who your parents are.”

“Well, that’s the thing…” I pause, trying to find the words. “I know who they are, but not even the person who knew them intimately seems to remember them. It’s as if they’ve been erased from existence. And I think one of the Vipers, or someone close to them, may have something to do with it all.”

He just looks at me for a second and then lets out a scoff. “Wow, I have to say I never would’ve pegged you for a conspiracy theorist.”

I ignore his stab. “It’s not like that. I used the House Olarel Mirror to tell me who my parents are. And no one remembering them is a fact you can easily check for yourself.”

For a moment, he stays silent. “Interesting,” he finally says. “You do realize that vampires have the ability to make people forget things?”

“Glamoring, sure,” I reply, getting goosebumps at the very thought of it. “But, even other vampires?”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Professor Mistila.”

“She the one you think knew your parents?”

I nod.

To my surprise, he scoffs. “What you’re describing sounds like a minor complication,” he says as he gets up. “If you don’t mind one other person getting involved and if I help you circumvent it…” He pauses to throw me a look. “Will you stop with the nonsense of trying to be a Viper?”

I can barely hold in the excitement. “Yes.”

He checks his watch. “I have an obligation in twenty minutes. But meet me in front of the Pied Piper’s office in an hour.”

I get up, rushing to say, “No, not the Pied Piper.”

He stops to shoot me an indecipherable look. “The Pied Piper is among the most trustworthy people I know.”

Fuck. I think for a second, but I ultimately nod. I watch Faust disappear into thin air, wondering if I’m making a mistake simply by being too desperate. But hey, that’s what trying to prevent an imminent bloodbath will do to you.

Chapter 29 - Quinn

Wondering what the hell I’m doing, I make my way into the Grimm Tower and climb all the way up. I find the Pied Piper’s assistant sitting at her desk in the foyer, scribbling away. When I enter, she looks up for a moment, just to say, “They’ll be ready for you in a minute, Miss Longborn, take a seat.” And she goes back to her work.

I do as she says, the memory of her questioning me after the incident at the woods flashing through my mind. I shake it off, fixing my eyes on the giant double door leading into the Pied Piper’s office. I strain my ears, but the only sounds coming from the other side are too muffled to be of any use.

So I’m alone with my thoughts again. And I assume that it’s Faust, talking with the Pied Piper, which fills me with dread. He’s probably recounting what I told him. Asking for her help. But is she really someone that can be trusted, I wonder.

Or even better, is he? Sure, he acted pretty maturely and honorably at the training session today. But even when I put my personal feelings aside, he’s mostly behaved like an inconsiderate, privileged fucker.

I let out a sigh, lifting my eyes to stare at the ceiling. The ancient-looking relief up there seems to depict some kind of battle, one side posing as the Light and the other as the Darkness itself. In real life, sadly, things are never that black and white. What the fuck does he plan on doing, I think to myself, my thoughts escaping back to the matter at hand.

But it’s at that exact moment that I see Professor Mistila appear in the foyer. She spots me and gives me a nod, but then she turns to the Pied Piper’s assistant and says, “I was summoned by the prince.”

The assistant opens her mouth to say something, but I hear a creak to my left, my head snapping in its direction to see the Pied Piper squinting from behind the now open door. “Mistila, Quinn…” she says in a low, serious voice. “Why don’t you both come in?”

Professor Mistila shoots me a funny look, but we both obediently follow de Groot into the office. Faust is already there, leaned against the window frame to my left. Despite the casual way with which he keeps his hands in his pockets, he looks very official.

“Now,” the Pied Piper says as she flings the length of her cloak aside and takes a seat, motioning for us to do the same. We do as she says. “Andreas has already filled me in on all that’s happened. Is that right,” she adds, turning to shoot me an indecipherable look, “Miss Longborn?”

For a second, I just stare at her, panicking because, of course, it’s not the whole story. There’s also the matter of the blood rituals and the imminent bloodbath. But what am I supposed to do? Risk it all? So I just nod.

“My apologies, veneranda,” Professor Mistila cuts in. “I don’t seem to know what you’re talking about.”

I open my mouth to say something, thinking it should come from me, since I’m the one who cooked this up.

But Faust beats me to it. “There’s a chance, Professor Mistila,” he starts without moving from where he’s standing, “that you’ve been glamored.”

“Glamored?” she echoes, frowning. “When? By whom?”

The Pied Piper says, “That we do not know. But if you were, it was in relation to Miss Longborn’s parents.”

The professor throws a glance at me and then turns back to the Pied Piper. I wait with bated breath, thinking she’ll start laughing or maybe even attacking us. For a second, I imagine seeing her fangs bared.

But she just says, “I see.”

It makes me frown with surprise, the pensive tone of her voice. “I guess it would explain things. Primarily how Miss Longborn can be an Olarel without any of us knowing anything about her parents.”

“Indeed,” the Pied Piper replies as she leans forward in her chair, clasping her hands in that elegant way of hers. “So… With your permission, I’d like to try breaking the spell.”

Professor Mistila nods, but I suddenly feel so afraid that I feel the urge to ask, “It won’t bring the professor any harm?”

I feel all three pairs of eyes on me. I don’t even want to look in Faust’s direction, but my eyes dart between the Pied Piper and Professor Mistila. The former is squinting at me, while the latter is throwing me a look filled with, well, tenderness.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Longborn,” she says as her lips curl into a smile. “I’ll only feel slight discomfort. If you’re wrong and I haven’t been glamored, then nothing else will happen. And if I have been, well, it’ll only make me remember what I was forced to forget.”

That makes me breathe a sigh of relief, but when the professor turns back to the Pied Piper and I see the two of them give each other quick nods, it still sends my heart racing.

I feel Faust’s presence, but he neither moves nor speaks. With bated breath, I watch the Pied Piper close her eyes shut, Professor Mistila’s body almost instantly stiffening.

There are no words uttered, no wands waved. At one point, the Pied Piper frowns, as if she’s searching for something. And the very next second, the professor’s shoulders slump, making my heart skip a beat.

“Quinn,” she mutters.

Sensing both the prince and the Pied Piper tensing up, I get up and come to crouch next to Professor Mistila. There’s something strange about her voice and the way she’s holding herself. As if she’s grown a decade older in a matter of seconds.

“Yes, professor?” I squeeze out.

“It’s not just me,” she replies in a chillingly flat voice, barely moving a muscle. “So many people, they’ve killed so many people and glamored the rest of us.”

The shock almost makes me topple over. And then it all happens so fast.

Professor Mistila gets out of her chair, takes something out of her pocket and raises it to her neck. A knife.

I hear the Pied Piper yell out, but I don’t register the words themselves because the professor jerks the hand with the knife just enough to slice her own neck in a single, violent movement.

The sight of her blood gushing out makes my knees give out and my stomach collapse in on itself.

The next moments stretch out with me barely registering any of the things that happen.

The Pied Piper’s assistant barges in and starts screaming.

The Pied Piper shuts her up, sends for the doctor and starts asking me questions. What do I think Professor Mistila meant by what she said, she wants to know.

I keep telling her I don’t know. I’m feeling numb, but I’m frantically trying to get the blood off my sweater. She’s the last person I’d tell, I think to myself, now especially.

And I guess I really do seem out of control, trying and failing to unzip my bloody hoodie with gritted teeth, because Faust walks over to me and takes me by the shoulders. He says that there’s been enough questioning and that I obviously need a moment to collect myself.

He takes me out into the foyer, plants me in a chair and asks me to tell him what I know.

And I do. I tell him everything.

Chapter 30 - Faust

Idon’t want to leave Longborn’s side, but once Nuala comes to get her, I find no excuse to stick around.

So I leave for my quarters, planning on starting the investigation as soon as possible. But when I arrive through the back entrance, I find Max wringing his hands in the living room.

I walk up to him, frowning.

“There’s, like, a bunch of lords and ladies waiting for you in the foyer,” he says.

“Regarding…”

“They won’t say,” Max replies with a shrug. “But they seem just about ready to go on a murder rampage and you weren’t answering your phone so I just lied to them that you’re in a meeting.”

“Bloody hell,” I say with a sigh and whip out my phone. When I went to see the Pied Piper, I turned it off so as not to be disturbed. And now it’s showing dozens of missed calls. Frowning, I scroll down the list of names, which includes everyone from Count Eichel to Archduke Erfurt.

“Should I start sending them in?” Max nudges me, making me look up from my phone.

“No, not yet,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Something’s going on and I need to find out what it is before I see any of them.”

Max nods and takes his leave. I pour myself a drink at the bar and go to my study to check the news on my laptop. But as soon as I walk through the door, I see an envelope on my desk. The kind one of my informants uses. A new report must have arrived while I was at the Pied Piper’s office.

I sit at my desk and open it, scanning page after page of official documents. The conclusion? This new drug that the Scions were testing has passed all rounds of trials. And it’s about to be legalized.

And why did that bring a bunch of pissed-off vampires to my door?

Because the drug, which they seem to plan on naming Obstructor, is supposed to render people immune to Mind Magic.

I let out a sigh and I ring the bell on my desk. A couple of seconds later, I hear Max walk in. I crane my neck and say, “I need you to go out there and tell them to come back some other day.”

Max hesitates so I turn my chair to face him. “I know what they’re here for,” he finally speaks. “I was about to come in to tell you that the Archduke has just spilled the beans.”

“No kidding.” I let out a laugh. “Let me guess, he wants me to form a government body that will insert itself into the Scion government.”

“How did you know?” my assistant asks, frowning as he walks up to me and leans on the couch in the center of my study.

I smile at him. He’s proven to be very helpful, but he’s new. He’s no idea how repetitive dealing with these people can be.

“Whenever there’s any trouble with the Scions,” I reply with a sigh, “one of them comes to me to suggest that exact same thing.”

“But how can that be?” he asks, obviously confused. “It would be against all laws. That’s what we agreed when we signed the Treaty. We rule over ours and the Scions rule over theirs.”

“Sure,” I start, talking to myself more than Max, “but it’s not that the idea is without merit. For us to rule over them. I mean, we have our problems, but they’re nothing compared to theirs.”

Max just blinks at me, which makes me snap out of it. “Nevermind,” I say as I clap my hands and turn my chair back to face the desk, “you can tell them all to make appointments, but I want them out of my quarters ASAP.”

As soon as I hear him leave, I forget all about the Obstructor and the pressure from the vampire court.

It’s barely been more than two hours since she told me the truth about everything. The stone, someone trying to harness its power, some bloodbath that’s bound to happen during the Third Round of the Trials… But it feels like forever.

I shouldn’t have let Nuala lead her away from me and back to her room. I shouldn’t have done it, I think to myself as it rips into me. The image of her all shaken up, those big brown eyes looking up at me filled with guilt and worry. I want to murder someone, but there’s no one to murder for it.

I decide to think about the best course for the bloodbath investigation, but I just end up checking my phone every two seconds. Hoping to find out where she is, how she’s doing, what she’s doing. Not like I’d have anyone to find out from, I snarl at myself.

I should just stop obsessing over her. But even if I managed to do that, there’d still be the matter of the bloodbath. So however much I’d like to just make it all disappear, it needs acting on. Instead of just sitting here, I should arrange a meeting with my uncle and the Pied Piper, relate everything I’ve been told and ask for their opinion. I’ve been through countless fucked-up situations, that’s what being a prince will do to you, but this is unlike any of them.

Having made my decision, I get up, whip out my phone and call the Pied Piper’s assistant.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the girl answers with the usual tinge of awe in her voice, as if she can’t believe she’s speaking to me directly.

And I open my mouth, but picturing the assistant makes my mind flood with the image of her wiping blood off Longborn’s shocked face. And then there’s Longborn asking me not to say anything to the Pied Piper.

“Hello? Are you there?” the assistant asks.

“I am, Lavinia,” I blurt out, suddenly changing my mind. “I apologize, it seems I’ve dialed the wrong number.”

“That’s perfectly okay, Your Majesty…”

I hang up and I just stand there for a moment. I don’t think Longborn is right. I don’t think it was the Pied Piper who killed Professor Mistila. I think the glamoring that was done to her included a sort of safety measure. If ever the spell is broken, the person kills themselves.

Of course, I could bring Longborn all the evidence in the world and she still wouldn’t listen. She may not be as hot-headed as I thought her to be, but she is stubborn, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s for the best. Whatever it is that’s happening, I have a nagging suspicion she’s not just a pawn in it, which means she could eventually get herself killed.

A part of me screams, “What the fuck are you doing? Are you fucking stupid?” But I can no longer fight the urge to go see her. Make sure she didn’t take off on her own, putting herself in even more danger.

So instead of arranging a meeting with the Pied Piper and my uncle, I leave my quarters, stopping in front of the mirror to smooth out my shirt and my hair. Then I rush to the Ydril tower, not pausing until I’m in the seventeenth-floor common room.

And there it is, number eighty five. I heard her give her room number to someone once. I didn’t want to remember it, but I did. I walk up to her door and stop.

Why am I so curious to see her room, I think to myself, but the very next second, a group of girls barge into the common room and come to a screeching halt as soon as they spot me standing there.

There’s a second of silence before they all burst out giggling. I just look at them, my eyebrow quirked. Their faces flushed, they instantly go silent, disappear into one of the other four rooms and bang the door shut.

I turn back to Longborn’s door, but I have to force myself to do it, my heart throbbing at the very thought of actually finding myself in there with her. And just as I’m about to raise my arm and give a sharp knock, the door flings open and I find myself face to face with Nuala.

She blinks at me and takes a step back.

“Is Longborn in there?” I ask.

Before her friend can give me an answer, the one I’ve come to look for peers from behind her shoulder. “What is it?” she asks, her voice low and tired.

I glance around and say, “I don’t want to talk like this.”

For a second, she doesn’t move and I think she’ll say no. But then she nods and the two of them take a step back to let me in.

Once I’m inside and the door is shut behind me, I don’t dare look around. The two of them are sitting on the bed. To my surprise, the ghost that Longborn told me about is here as well, standing right beside them.

I nod at her. Moswen, I think her name is. She just looks at me with suspicion in her eyes. They’re all waiting for me to start talking, Longborn and Nuala looking as if neither of them has slept in days.

I turn to Longborn. “Still don’t want to tell the Pied Piper the whole truth?” I ask.

“You’d want that,” Moswen cuts in, making my eyes dart to her. “Wouldn’t you?”

My eyebrows pull down, but before I can say anything, Longborn waves her hand and says, “I told you what I think happened in there. You can say what you want, but I’m not changing my mind.”

For a second, I let myself look into her eyes, searching for something without knowing what. Deceitfulness, I guess. But I find none. So I nod, I let out a sigh and I say, “Alright, but even if I never breathe a word of it to anyone else, the way you want me to, I’m still involved.”

“I guess,” she starts, letting out a sigh. “But there’s nothing I can do about that now.”

“There is,” I say, noticing her eyebrows shoot up a little. “I hope you understand that I won’t just be sitting idly by as someone tries to kill us all. So I’ll be taking over the investigation.”

“What is he on about?” Moswen cuts in again. She turns to Longborn to shoot her a look, instantly making my blood boil. “Like we need some kind of leader.”

“I agree with Moswen,” Longborn says flatly. “We’re in no position to refuse help, so sure, you can help, but taking over the investigation? The last thing we need is for you to be pulling that alpha shit on us.”

Nuala looks away, still silent and red in the face. I let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know what kind of reality you live in,” I start as I turn back to Longborn, my voice raised a little, “but in mine, it takes a lot more sense for it to be led by someone with actual resources.”

Moswen lets out a scoff. “Of course he’d try to buy you.”

It makes me grit my teeth. What the fuck does she have against me? I choose to ignore her and I turn to look at Longborn.

She’s pursing her lips just a little as she considers my words. “What would those resources be?” she finally asks.

I fucking can’t believe how much convincing I have to do, but I make myself take in a breath and spit out, “A web of spies, to start with.”

“That should definitely come in handy,” she says to Nuala, in a voice so flat, it makes me want to grab and shake her.

“I hope you’re not seriously considering teaming up with him?” Moswen asks in a voice full of bitterness. “Isn’t he the one who practically assaulted you?”

The nerve, I think as an urge to attack her overwhelms me. I’m already leaning forward, my fangs slightly bared. But at the very last second, I stop myself.

Once I’ve snapped out of it, I notice Longborn studying me, her eyes darting to my clenched fists.

I loosen them up and I notice her face relax.

“Alright, you can help coordinate things,” she finally concludes.

But I’m still fuming that that ghost of a woman would want to turn her against me like that. So it sounds quite aggressive when I add, “That’s not all. From now on, you’ll no longer be training with the Vipers.”

That makes Longborn get up. “The hell I won’t. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s shit that’s gonna go down during the Third Round.”

“I’m aware,” I say through gritted teeth. “And that’s why I’ll be the one training you.”

Moswen immediately starts protesting. “Quinn, I think this nonsense has gone on long enough.”

To my satisfaction, Longborn just whispers, “Sorry, Moswen,” and snaps her diary shut, making her disappear.

Then she turns to Nuala and says, “Would you mind leaving us alone?”

It makes my heart skip a beat. And while Nuala’s grabbing her stuff and making her way out, I busy myself by glancing around. What I see surprises me. For some reason, maybe because it’s been like that with every girlfriend I’ve ever had, I expected the room to be crammed with clothes and trinkets. This one is practically bare, only a few posters taped to the wall and a bunch of books on the shelves.

It’s only when I hear Nuala close the door behind her that I force myself to face her again. All of a sudden, my mind is acutely aware of every detail on her face and body. But the bigger problem is that I’ve no idea what to expect.

She gets up and comes a little closer, sending my heart racing. “Look,” she starts, looking away for a second, “I’ve heard the stories and I know how powerful you are.”

It makes me melt, hearing her say that. What the fuck is going on with me?

“And I won’t be stupid enough to refuse your offer,” she says.

My eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t give me a chance to react. She takes another step closer, her voice taking on a more serious tone. “But I have a condition. Outside of training, I’ll want you as far away from me as possible.”

Her words feel like a slap on the face, but I’ll be damned if I show it. I scoff. “No need to get emotional,” I squeeze out. “A simple thank you would’ve been enough.”

She takes a step back, her face twisted in rage. “You did not just say that.” She lets out a bitter laugh, but turns dead serious when she says, “Let me make myself crystal clear…” She practically gets in my face. “I know you’re probably not used to suffering the consequences of your own actions, but until you apologize to me for what you did at the Ball, I owe you nothing, not even basic courtesy.”

By the time she’s done talking, I’m barely keeping it together. I want to tell her to forget it, I want to fucking rip into her for daring to say those things, my hands balled painfully into fists and my fangs aching for me to let them draw blood.

But I do nothing. “Tomorrow morning, at dawn,” I say through gritted teeth. “Be at the training grounds.”

And with that, I turn on my heel and I leave her room, slamming the door behind me.

Chapter 31 - Quinn

The morning after Professor Mistila’s suicide, I wake up with a raging headache. It doesn’t really surprise me, considering I spent practically the whole of last night tossing in my bed. And I can’t remember any of it, but I have the strongest feeling that I’ve just been ripped out of the grip of some nasty nightmare.

It’s only after I drag myself out of bed that I remember why I set my alarm to ring at the crack of fucking dawn. I’m supposed to go train with him, right now, and I’ve no clue what to expect from that. I’m so apprehensive, I can barely stop myself from crawling back under the covers.

Then again, it’s not like I have any other choice. Training with Moswen has brought results, that’s for sure, but I’m still shit at combat in general. And I’ve no way of knowing what’s in store for me when the day finally comes, the day of the dreaded Third Round.

So I quickly get dressed, choosing long sleeves because it’s still chilly outside. And I make my way to the training grounds, the silence that’s still enveloping the world around me making me even more hesitant.

When I spot him, it surprises me to see he’s not alone. Max is there with him, the two of them standing by the benches, looking as if Faust is dictating something.

He doesn’t acknowledge me when I approach. Neither one of them does. I raise my eyebrows and I clear my throat.

Still, nothing. The Little Prince just keeps talking, making me stand there feeling like a fool. As usual, he looks breathtaking. But it’s also the most casual I’ve ever seen him. He’s barefoot, his sweatpants hanging loosely off his waist and his T-shirt revealing the curves of so many lean muscles.

“And I’ll see the Baroness some other day,” I hear him say just as he dismisses Max with a single wave of his hand.

Only when Max disappears does he turn to me, his face frozen in that indecipherable expression of his. I open my mouth to say good morning, because despite how annoyed he’s made me with his little display of power, I’m determined to make the best of this.

But he beats me to it. “Five laps around the grounds,” he commands in a voice that’s like a slab of ice as he goes to sit on one of the benches and whips out his phone.

Alright, I think to myself, I could use a bit of warming up.

I walk up to the track lines and I start running. Of course, I have to try to ignore the fact that he’s sitting there and that he can probably see my every move. But by the time I’m done with the five laps, I’m actually pretty proud of myself for how little I’m panting.

“Done,” I say as I walk back to where he’s sitting.

“Five more,” he replies. And the fucker doesn’t even look up.

Oh how I hate him. “Seriously?” I ask. But I’m determined to keep it civil. “Look, I’m already a good runner. I think there’s plenty of things I could do that wouldn’t be such a waste of time.”

He looks up and just stares at me for a second. “Five laps around the grounds,” he starts, making me think I’ll have to keep arguing with him. “And I want you casting magic the entire time.” He pauses before he adds, dragging out the words, “Without so much as slowing down.”

I roll my eyes. His attitude is childish and infuriating, but at least I’d be doing something. “Alright,” I say and walk back to the tracks.

I stop at the starting line, bend a little forward and break into a full sprint. After a couple of minutes of mustering all my determination, I try to use my Element Rune to knock over a straw man perched on the ground to my left.

It doesn’t surprise me when I fail. After all, I can barely manage doing magic when I’m standing still. But what surprises me is the way the act knocks all the air out of my lungs. It takes everything I have to keep running.

I try again and for a second, I think I’ve done it. The second straw man sways a little.

But the very next second, I find myself completely out of breath so I stop running, slowly coming to a halt.

Breathing heavily, I bend over, resting my palms against my thighs.

It startles me when he just appears in front of me. “What did I tell you not to do?” he demands, towering over me with an intense look in his eyes.

“Stop,” I squeeze out.

“And what did you do?”

“I stopped,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Stand straight and try again.”

I have to take a deep breath to force myself to stay calm because having to say it makes me livid. “I can’t do it like that.”

“Really?” he says mockingly. “I thought the more basic stuff was a waste of your time.”

“If you got off your high horse and explained how this should help me...”

He just looks at me for a second. Then he lets out a deep sigh and slides his hands in his pockets as he starts to pace around me. “Let’s see…” His voice is cold and smirking. “If, right now, you found yourself fighting in the Third Round…”

I don’t like it, but my ears still prick up.

“You’d be dead in less than a minute,” he finishes as he comes to a stop before me. “Isn’t that right?”

Prick. “Can’t say it isn’t,” I force myself to admit. “So what exactly are you planning to do with such a lost cause?”

“Using the one advantage you do have,” he says flatly.

My eyebrows pull down. “Running?”

He doesn’t even nod, but I take the silence as a yes. I frown and then I scoff. “Let me make it clear. So when I find myself in front of an opponent, you want me to run away?”

He rolls his eyes at me, fucker. “It’s not your speed I’m counting on. You may be fast for a Scion or a fae… But you’re laughably far from being a shifter or a vampire’s match,” he finishes in a low voice, his eyes darting to my neck for a second.

It makes my knees give out, their intensity.

“Fair enough,” I squeeze out. “So what is it, if not my speed?”

“Breath.”

I frown. “Um, what?”

He shakes his head as if I’m some child who hasn’t learned her ABCs. “Part of what makes you a good runner is good control over your breathing, isn’t it?”

I nod, feeling intrigued against my will.

“And the only thing you’re good for right now is Air Magic, which uses the power of your breath, doesn’t it?”

The only thing I’m good for? Where the fuck does he get off? He’s waiting for an answer, but I’m so pissed I don’t say anything. I can’t even make myself nod.

“A simple yes or no would suffice,” he says more forcefully.

I have to force myself to keep my voice flat. “You know, I’m here to be trained, not insulted.”

He just looks at me for a second. “You wanted me to explain this to you, didn’t you?” he snarls. “But I guess nothing is ever good enough for you.”

I finally snap. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I practically yell at him.

“Your fucking attitude.”

“My attitude?” I take a step closer to him, my hands balling into fists. “I’m not the one refusing to apologize for being a complete asshole and adding insult to injury by pouting like a fucking toddler.”

He just keeps staring at me, but now his nostrils are flaring and his chest heaving.

But it’s at that exact moment that I hear voices boom from the other side of the training grounds. The Vipers are coming for their session.

He takes a step back and squeezes out, “Good job, you’ve managed to waste all our time. You’re dismissed.”

I ignore the stab, turn on my heel and start walking towards the benches. “I’m going to watch them train.”

“Suit yourself,” he replies coldly.

Once I take my seat, I see that he’s gone to greet them and that they’ve surrounded him like a waddle of ducklings. I squint. Harry’s patting him on the back while Zelda and Sarya are laughing at something he said. I frown, although it’s not the first time he’s proved that he can be pleasant. When he wants to, at least.

It’s only then that I notice Leo missing. Fucker, I think as I recall the last box of chocolates. I honestly can’t believe I’m letting that guy force me into saying no to dates for the Ball. I’ll really have to do something about it, as soon as I catch some free time between trying to prevent the bloodbath and not letting my royal trainer’s pleasant personality drive me crazy.

I spend the next hour on the bench, watching the Vipers train. Faust doesn’t join, he just cuts in with feedback every now and again. At one point, I hear him let out a laugh and it makes me freeze. He’s never done that before, at least not when I was around. The sound is rough and playful and makes me want to hear more, my thighs clenching in anticipation.

But the session seems to be over and now he’s walking up to where I’m sitting, his face back to being devoid of any expression. And there they all are, running after him. I keep sitting there awkwardly as they all throw themselves on the benches around me.

And they start talking as if I’m not there, but they don’t try to put a lot of space between us. They’re chatting about techniques I’ve never heard of. Three-Legged Monster, Duncan’s Lock and others with names I wouldn’t even be able to repeat.

I keep sitting there hoping for a chance to cut in with a question about the Trials. But I don’t expect them to include me in the conversation themselves.

“Longborn,” Harry barks out at one point, making me practically jump up with surprise, “you probably know everything there is to know about the Herigast Stance.”

For a second, I just blink at him, expecting them all to take his lead and start mocking me. But when I see the grins on their faces, I realize that that’s not what they’re doing. They’re teasing me.

I scoff. “That one’s so basic, Harry,” I dare to say. “If you want, I can teach you some more advanced things,” I continue, determined to see this through as I lift my hand to start counting on my fingers. “Falling Face First, Not Even Spotting Your Opponent…”

At this point, there’s already loud laughter coming from everyone but Faust, but I add one more, just for the fun of it. “Blinking Your Enemies Away…”

It makes me smile, the way Harry in particular seems to be dying of laughter. The moment doesn’t get ruined even when I notice Faust’s eyes dart to me and linger, not even cracking a smile.

“But seriously,” I say when the laughter dies down a little, “does anyone know what we’ll be up against in the Third Round?”

Harry laughs. “Gotten cocky, have we?” he says. “If I’m not mistaken, you have to survive the Second first.”

I smile. “Sure, but the Third is far deadlier, right?”

There’s a moment of silence during which everyone seems to turn serious. I hold my breath, thinking I’ve made a mistake.

To my surprise, Faust is the first to break the silence. “All assignments are kept secret,” he says, surprising me with the lack of condescension in his tone. “That’s the only way to keep things fair.”

I notice Sarya shooting him a look, her eyes darting to me first, which makes my ears prick up.

He catches the look, pauses for a second and then just tips his head back a little, nudging her to speak.

“Well,” she starts, “I was planning on telling you after the session. Just yesterday, I overheard my parents talking about it.”

How convenient, I think to myself, but I don’t linger on it.

“And?” Faust urges her to go on.

“I guess there are rumors about a donation made to the Academy to bring out some stone for the Third Round.”

My eyes dart to Faust, whose eyebrows are pulling into a frown. “A donation? Made by whom?”

Sarya glances around nervously. “Leo’s family.”

There’s a stir and then a moment of silence before Faust says, “Interesting. Especially considering he didn’t even let me know he wouldn’t be coming today.”

“That’s actually my doing,” Sarya admits. To my surprise, she sounds nervous. “I found it odd that he wouldn’t let us in on it… So I told him that today’s session was canceled.”

Faust just looks at her for a second and then nods approvingly, making her beam with satisfaction. “I wanted to talk to you before I confronted him,” she adds.

“No,” he snaps as he starts getting up. The rest of them follow suit and so do I. “You won’t be doing anything about it,” he says. His eyes sweep over us all, lingering on me for a second. “And that goes for all of you.”

He waves a hand to dismiss us all and the rest of the group doesn’t seem too happy about it, but they obey.

As they follow Faust out of the training grounds in silence, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in. My mind is racing so hard, I can barely think straight. It all makes sense, I think to myself as I start walking. Leo is in the Vipers and I always thought he was the one who tried to steal Moswen. Then, there’s also the fact that he’s an absolute dirtbag.

Of course it’s him, the person we’re looking for.

So I don’t go straight to the cafeteria, as I’d planned. Just as the rest of the group turns left to get back to the castle, I decide to walk to the House of Lilith instead.

I stop and almost let out a gasp when Faust appears in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demands.

I frown. “Wherever that vampire asshole is.”

“No, you’re not. We won’t be confronting him directly, at least for now.”

“What do you think, I’m stupid?” I hiss at him. “I’m gonna go follow his ass, not chat him up.”

“Leave that to me,” he snarls. “You and Nuala can keep looking for info on the stone.”

I want to say no, but it actually does make a lot more sense. I grit my teeth, force myself to nod and push past him to get back to the castle.

“Same time tomorrow,” he snaps after me.

I don’t say anything. I don’t even turn around. I just give him a quick exaggerated bow and I keep walking. And I don’t see the reaction, but I know he hates it when I do that.

Chapter 32 - Quinn

I’m panting heavily and my vision is blurred, making the track around the training grounds blend in with the rest of my surroundings. Still, I push through it and try to finish the third lap, casting magic all the way. It doesn’t surprise me that I manage to knock over every strawman I pass by. It’s the middle of March and I’ve been training with Faust for a while now, slowly perfecting my use of Air power.

But this time, when I try to use my other element, Earth, it almost makes me topple over when I see it’s worked. I tap the rune and see the ground before me do exactly what I wanted it to do. It shakes and then cracks, opening a huge chasm right before me.

I come to a stop just in time to avoid falling in and I see a few clumps of beaten earth roll down. I barely have time to process what’s happened before I see him appear on the other side of the opening, looking down into the abyss.

My lips curl into a victorious smile, but I wipe it off as soon as he looks up. There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes, but I only catch it because I’ve gotten pretty good at reading his perpetually expressionless face. Mostly because the majority of the time he’s spent training me, ever since that first session, could be described using two words. Awkward silence. But this morning, he seems pissed and is even more quiet than usual.

“I think you’re ready for the next step,” he finally says.

My ears prick up. “And that would be?”

He motions for me to follow him to the center of the training grounds. And then, to my surprise, he just stands there, pushing his legs apart and slowly cracking his neck. Every time I see him do that, a wave of heat washes over my entire body and I have to remind myself, once again, that this is the Little Prince I’m drooling over.

And just as I gulp, fighting not to let my eyes roam, he commands, “Try to attack me.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I did not expect this. “You sure?”

He just stares at me.

I grit my teeth. “Nevermind,” I say as I get into a position to attack.

And I know exactly what I want to do, but I hesitate. In a way, this is my dream come true. The fucker still hasn’t apologized for the incident at the Ball and he’s treating me as if I were some nuisance, which makes me want to kick his fucking butt so badly, I sometimes feel the need to scream. But even though he’s been training me for weeks now, the very thought of embarrassing myself in front of him makes me livid.

“I don’t have all day,” he snaps at me.

And all of a sudden, I find the determination to wipe the floor with him. I don’t say anything, I just tap the Element Rune and send a wall of air flying straight into his chest.

It doesn’t seem to do anything. He’s still standing there, solid as a rock, with his hands resting casually on his hips.

I ball my hands into fists, cursing under my breath, but that only makes him throw me a smirk, his head tilted in amusement. “What’s that you said?”

Chill, Quinn, just chill, I plead with myself. And I do collect myself and send another, denser wall of air at him. He disappears for a second, materializing at the same spot without a hair out of place.

Grinning at me. “You know, it might be good,” he starts in an amused voice, “to try to use more than one tactic to beat your opponent. Just an idea.”

For a second, I just blink at him. Frowning, I dig my feet firmer into the ground and tap the earth rune with such force, it hurts. I open another chasm, right under his feet.

But of course, he just zaps himself away.

“On second thought…”

He startles me so much, I practically jump up. He’s appeared to my left, looking even more amused than a second ago. “Maybe you should stick to what you know.”

I just look at him for a second. Then I let out an angry growl and try to push him away with my hands.

His eyebrows raised, he just laughs, the sound rough but soft.

“You fucker, you think this is productive?” I yell at him. “I should be fighting someone my own level.”

Still smiling, he shakes his head. “You think that’s how the Trials will go? You’ll be able to choose your opponent? Besides,” he moves to follow me because I’ve started walking away, “I’m not even attacking you.”

I stop and turn back to him. “Well, why aren’t you? If we’re really aiming for all this to be as authentic as possible.”

He doesn’t say anything. He disappears and when I see him again, he’s gripping my forearm, his body so close to mine, I can only see his eyes. They’re still smiling when he says, “Because I’d have to hold back.”

At first, I’m at a loss for words. It’s all a bit too much, his eyes, his smell and the touch of his hand. I frown and I push him away. “You’re right, and this way, we can do without you touching me.”

Now, that makes the smile disappear from his face. But he’s not just back to his grumpy self, he seems to be seething.

“It was your idea anyway.”

I open my mouth, but at that exact moment, I hear a woman clear her throat somewhere behind my back.

My head darts in her direction and I see Faust’s blonde girlfriend standing a bit farther away, squinting at the two of us. “Am I interrupting something?”

My eyes dart to Faust.

“Actually, you are, Amelia,” he replies, his voice as cold as it gets, “you know I’m in training at this hour.”

What the fuck is going on, I think to myself.

“I do,” Amelia smiles as she appears next to him and grabs him by the upper arm, stroking his bicep. “And don’t get me wrong, baby cakes, I love it that you’re even doing charity work now,” she says as she throws me a nasty look, “but sometimes you need to live a little.”

“The training’s done when it’s done,” he snaps at her, his eyes darting in my direction before they turn back to her and linger there. “I’ll come see you after.”

There’s tension in the air as the smile slides right off Amelia’s pretty face. “Alright,” she says, quickly collecting herself and moving to walk away. “I’ll see you later then.”

She throws me another look and disappears.

Once she’s gone, there’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. I decide to break it by saying, “So… what do you want me to do now?”

“Nothing,” he snaps at me. “We’re done for today.”

And he turns to walk away.

“What about Leo? Any news?” I demand, frowning because he obviously had no intention giving me an update on the investigation, as he likes to call it.

He stops, but he doesn’t turn around. “No. And I thought I said we’re done for today,” he snarls and disappears.

And just like that, I’m left standing there like some fool, baby cakes echoing in my mind and making me want to grit my teeth.

And still no news, huh, I think to myself as I start making my way back to my room to get changed. I guess I’ll have to do this investigating thing on my own then. But just as I prepare to enter the Ydril Tower, I see a guy approach me with a nervous smile on his face.

Chapter 33 - Faust

It’s been forty three minutes and Longborn still hasn’t texted me back. I’m back in my quarters and I’m supposed to get ready for a meeting with the Archduke, but I can’t seem to get it together. I keep pacing around the living room and checking my phone every five seconds.

After I told her we were done for the day, just before I left the training grounds, I caught a glimpse of a guy standing near the entrance, seemingly waiting for her.

And I tried to fight it, I did, but I ended up doing it again.

I pretended to leave, but I stayed behind, taking cover behind one of the oaks in the castle garden. With gritted teeth, I watched the guy sniff after her as she made her way to the Ydril Tower. And with bated breath, I eavesdropped on him asking her out to the Ball.

As I waited for her to give him her answer, I felt hot rage course through my entire body. How dare he, that little fucker.

But just as I balled my hands into fists, I saw her shake her head for no and I let out a long breath, feeling tension leave my muscles.

As fast as I could, I went back to my quarters and grabbed a card off my desk. Grinning, I wrote, “Good girl,” attached the card to a box of chocolates I picked out just for the occasion and gave it to Max to deliver ASAP.

He’s the only one who knows about them, my little presents to Miss Longborn. But just as I was about to enjoy visualizing her reaction once she received this one, Amelia came knocking on my door.

Pissed, she was so pissed about me forgetting to come to her as soon as Longborn and I were done with training. I don’t know what came over me, but I ended up telling her it was over. She started yelling, saying I can’t just break up with her and proving once again how far above everyone else she thinks she is.

“You think I’m stupid?” she finally demanded. “You think I don’t know who this is all about?”

“I’ve no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” I snapped at her.

“Well, good luck,” she said with a mocking scoff, “because that girl doesn’t seem to choose who she’ll flirt with.”

Now, that made my ears prick up. I got in her face, every muscle in my body tensing up. “What do you mean by that?”

She just shrugged and left the room. My mind was buzzing so much, I just kept standing there. All I could think about was the guy from earlier. Did he go look for her again? Or is Amelia talking about someone else entirely?

Of course, I know what kind of person my ex is, and I did try to tell myself she’s probably just making stuff up to spite me. But there was no going back. I’d already gotten so worked up about it that I eventually made the mistake that I’m suffering for right now.

I found an excuse to text Longborn. “I’ll have to postpone tomorrow’s training by half an hour. Would that be okay with you?”

That was fifty two minutes ago, I think to myself as I check my watch while pacing around the living room. And I did realize it was a stupid and pointless thing to do, but only after I’d already sent the bloody text.

Now I have to suffer the consequences, being unable to think about anything else other than the fact that she still didn’t text me back. Or maybe she did do it in the meantime.

I tell myself this will be the last time. I grab my phone from the coffee table and pull up the messages.

Still no reply. Just ‘Seen’. I never knew a single word could get me so worked up. I grip the phone with both hands and stop pacing, cursing myself for being so stupid.

And I try to tell myself not to do it, but my fingers move of their own accord. They open the chat with Longborn and type, “Not even going to dignify me with an answer?”

Once the message is sent, I just keep standing there, staring the screen down.

It startles me, when they suddenly appear, the three dots that mean she’s typing.

I wait with bated breath for what seems like an eternity. Then a message finally appears. “I thought you said we’re done for today.” I can hear her fucking tone.

“Well,” I rush to type, “I answered your question, didn’t I?”

“Are you being serious?”

“Yes, I’m being serious.”

“Look, I have a busy day ahead and I really don’t have time for your shit.”

“My shit? Wow.”

“Yes, your shit. You know, being a privileged asshole, ignoring the fact that what you do affects others... Stuff like that.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?”

“If your actions speak anything of your character, yes, I know you plenty.”

This makes me grit my teeth, but I keep typing like crazy. “I’m a prince in a world you still know nothing about and you have the audacity to say something like that?”

“Yes. And if I weren’t onto something there, oh prince, my opinion wouldn’t be making you this worked up.”

“That’s not what’s happening here. What’s happening here is you having zero manners.”

She doesn’t reply. For a long time, I just stare at the screen, before I throw the goddamn phone at the wall, smashing it to bits.

This makes Max walk in. “Everything alright?”

I don’t say anything, I just nod. “Get me a new phone,” I squeeze out as I turn to walk to my bedroom.

Still fuming, I get dressed and go into the drawing room to find my uncle and the Archduke already waiting for me.

We do the usual formal greetings and take our seats at the table. The Archduke wastes no time. He goes straight to talking about the Obstructor, the Scions planning on eradicating us and the need to put our foot down by inserting ourselves into their governments.

But I’m so distracted, I can barely hear what they’re saying. The prince, I’m the fucking prince here. And I’m the strongest vampire and I have the highest grades and I have so many women throwing themselves at my feet, and she’s treating me like I’m scum.

“Andreas?” my uncle’s voice snaps me out of it. It’s only when I look at him that I realize that I’ve balled my hands into fists. “Care to chip in?” he asks.

“Would you excuse me, gentlemen,” I say as I get up, making them follow suit. “I understand that this is a matter of utmost importance and I’m currently not feeling well, so I think it best to reschedule our meeting.”

The Archduke just looks at me for a moment, then gets up, bows and leaves the room. My uncle’s not letting me leave though.

“You know, nephew,” he starts as he appears before me, “you can reschedule all you want, but he’ll just keep coming back.”

I let out a sigh. “What do you think about it, uncle? They all seem to be bent on making it happen. Should I just give in to the pressure?”

He draws in a breath, thinking for a moment. “It would be a precedent, that much is sure. Then again, the situation is far from peaceful and you’re not like others, either by birth or ability. If anyone would be justified in doing it, it would be you.”

“However?”

“However,” uncle echoes me, “I don’t think you should bother with it. There will be better opportunities for you to assert your power and introduce positive changes.”

“Thank you, uncle,” I reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But even after he’s gone, my mind is still on one of the first things he said. You’re not like others, either by birth or ability.

Maybe I was being too big of an asshole. I make a snap decision. If she won’t talk to me over the phone, I may as well pay her a visit.

I go to her room first, but she’s not there.

I sniff the air. To my relief, it wasn’t that long ago that she was in. I follow her scent and find her and Nuala sitting by the fountain in one of the inner courtyards.

“We’re busy,” she tells me as soon as she sees me.

“Busy doing what?”

Longborn looks away, but when I turn my eyes onto Nuala, she just spills it. “I heard Leo has a meeting with some Italian and we read somewhere that the stone might have been located in Italy at one point so we just want to see the guy. They’re supposed to meet here.”

When I turn back to her, Longborn is throwing daggers at her friend. I let out a deep sigh, making her look at me. “Follow me,” I say and the two of them do it, albeit hesitantly.

I lead them to the West common room and stop at the door. “It’s here they’re meeting.” I motion for them to take a look and they peer through the archway and into the room, where Leo is standing by a rack of suits, browsing as the Italian tailor recites their qualities.

“It’s said that if you really want a good suit,” I tell the two of them, “you have to have the Italians make it for you.”

When Longborn turns to me, she has a victorious smile plastered on her face.

But before she can even open her mouth, I say, “He really is a tailor. His name is Enzo Russo and he’s not even an Original.”

The smile disappears. “So you’ve already checked him out?”

I scoff. “Of course I did. And you should think twice before you underestimate me like you did just now.”

She just blinks at me for a second and then says, “I guess you’re right, sorry.”

Appeased, I open my mouth to say it’s fine, but the look on her face changes. Now there’s spite in it. “See what a normal person does when they do something wrong?”

That gets me instantly fuming. But I draw in a deep, long breath and I turn to Nuala. “Would you excuse us?”

I don’t wait for her to leave. I nudge Longborn into one of the empty side hallways and I stand in front of her. She folds her arms, waiting for me to speak.

It surprises me, how difficult it is to squeeze out the words, especially with those eyes boring into mine. “Look,” I start, unable to stop myself from hissing, “not saying you’re sorry doesn’t mean you’re not… sorry.”

She quirks her eyebrow at me.

“People make mistakes,” I add because she apparently didn’t understand me.

“True,” she says, “but when they do make them, they need to apologize for them, don’t you think?”

I just look at her for a moment, fuming. “Fuck you,” I snap at her and turn to walk away.

She grabs me by the arm and I immediately stop. “Alright,” she starts as she walks around to face me. “You say people make mistakes. Do you consider yourself to be… people?”

“I do,” I say through gritted teeth. Still, her voice is softer and that’s making some of the rage start dying down.

“Great,” she replies. And she doesn’t seem to be sarcastic. “Nuala and I aren’t having any luck with the info on the stone, but we’ll leave the investigation to you.”

I turn to look at her, the remaining tension in me dissipating when I see that the look she’s giving me has softened as well.

“And tomorrow,” she starts a bit hesitantly, making my ears prick up, “maybe you could try teaching me to defend myself from whatever moves you’ve got. I guess I could really use the practice.”

I don’t say anything, I just nod and walk away. But there’s warmth spreading throughout my body, the kind I’m not used to feeling.

Chapter 34 - Quinn

The warm April day makes things seem so innocent, but tomorrow is casting such a shadow over everything, I’m unable to stop myself from pacing around the training grounds. When I finally spot Nuala, the sun is already setting, making the ground wet from rain glimmer in the light.

As my friend walks up to me, I see that she’s confused. But I was expecting that, considering I didn’t tell her why I wanted us to meet.

Once she’s in front of me, I smile and say, “I thought you could be the one training with me today.”

She folds her arms and quirks an eyebrow at me. “I thought Andreas specifically told you not to do it the day before.”

“He’s being stupid,” I protest. “The Second Round is deadlier than the first and I really need the practice. Besides,” I pause, throwing her a cautious smile, “I thought we might make it helpful for the both of us.”

I see her tense up. I think she knows what I’ll suggest even before I do it. But I still do. “Just today I came across these exercises shifters can do—”

“You just came across them,” she cuts me off, drawling. Then she lets out a loud groan filled to the brim with frustration. “I swear to Lycan’s teeth, Quinn, if you do this again, I am going to murder you with my own two hands.”

As she says it, she starts walking away, but I catch up with her. “Nuala, listen to me,” I rush to say everything that’s on my mind, “there’s a chance you didn’t actually sever the bond with your animal, not completely at least. I think you’re traumatized by what happened to your brother and so you’re probably suppressing things you really shouldn’t be suppressing.”

She stops and turns to face me. “You know what I think, Quinn?” she spits out. “I think you should stop poking your nose in other people’s business.”

I open my mouth to say sorry, but I sense a presence behind my back and almost instantly, I see Nuala’s eyes dart in that direction. I turn around and see Faust approaching us, dressed in a pressed shirt and perfectly tailored pants, his hands in his pockets in that insanely hot way of his. Goddamn him.

“So surprising, seeing the two of you here,” he says, but he doesn’t sound surprised at all.

“Hi, Andreas,” my friend greets him, her voice weirdly strained and her face flushed.

It makes me frown for a second, but then I turn to Faust and say, “I thought you were super busy with the preparations for tomorrow.” I can’t help but grin at him before I add, “I didn’t think you’d have time to follow us around.”

He just turns to Nuala and says, “I’ll take over from here.”

I want to tell her she doesn’t have to leave, but she already is. She throws me a glance over the shoulder, looks at Faust and, blushing, mouths, “Bye.”

It makes me frown for a second, but I don’t have time to linger on it. As soon as she’s out of earshot, the handsome stalker takes a step closer to me and drawls, “I thought I made myself clear, Longborn.”

I lock eyes with him. “You often think that and you’re rarely right.”

One corner of his lips twitches, as if he’s about to laugh. But then he just looks away, turning serious. “I don’t care for your antics,” he replies. “I need you to go to your room and rest.”

I let out a sigh and look him straight in the eye. Ever since he sort of apologized to me, things have been a lot less hostile between us and I’ve actually been taking his advice. But not this time. “Just one hour,” I say with determination in my voice.

“Absolutely not.”

I throw my arms up. “Oh, I see, you want me to die tomorrow.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. He throws me a look and leans a bit forward. In that instant, I just know he’s going to attack.

I tap one of my Runes and, before he manages to do anything, send him flying far away from me.

I let out a breath, but the very next second, I sense a presence behind my back. I turn around and without thinking, I raise my hands up and make all the water from the ground shoot up. It creates a barrier that he almost instantly slams into.

He stumbles backwards and I let the water come crashing to the ground. I rush to see if he’s okay, but he waves his hand in dismissal and locks eyes with me.

“Full of surprises, aren’t we?” he asks in a voice matching the sentiment.

I just blink at him. The reality of what’s happened is still hitting me. “Did I just manage to use a third Element?

“Unless we’re both out of our minds, yeah,” he says, now squinting at me with his arms folded.

“I thought no one could manipulate more than two,” I say in a hushed voice.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says with a smile. “There are even some who can manipulate all four, but that usually comes with very powerful sets of runes, like the Creator’s.” His eyes narrow. “And you still have only your Element rune activated, right?”

I nod, my mind buzzing. “What could it mean?” I ask.

“For now, all it means is,” Faust says as he lets out a low laugh, “you’re as ready for tomorrow as you can possibly be. So, today, you should just live a little.”

I don’t get a chance to reply. The very next second, I see Sarya, Harry and Zelda walking up to us.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Leo’s not with them. After that third box of chocolates, I’ve been avoiding him even more religiously, trying to figure out a way to get back at him.

“Just the man we’re looking for,” Harry barks out as soon as he walks up to Faust. “Your Majesty, will you do us the honor of going to the Seven Dwarves’ with us?”

Faust shakes his head, smiling. “Maybe some other time. You should all get some rest tonight.”

“The Seven Dwarves’?” I cut in, frowning at Harry. “But they don’t allow anyone under forty.”

“They do if you come with the right person,” he replies, gesturing at the real-life prince standing next to me.

“Ah,” I just say, an interesting idea popping into my mind. I turn to Faust and throw him a smirk. “I think you should go. You know, live a little.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then his lips curl into a smile. “Sure, but only if you’re coming, too.”

He says it as if he’s challenging me. I let out a chuckle. “My god,” I say, feigning shock, “you want me to accompany four youngsters to some dingy bar?” I walk up to Harry, Sarya and Zelda, who are all grinning. “I don’t know…” I shake my head. “Someone might steal my pearls.”

Harry barks out a laugh and Faust rolls his eyes at me, but then he snaps, “Fine, let’s go.”

It doesn’t take us long to get to our destination. Another perk of being the prince seems to be the fact that you can just use the Pull whenever you please. Once we’re on the other side, I’m relieved when I see I’m not the only one to throw up. We all do, everyone except for the smirking Faust, of course.

But I don’t linger on it. I’ve stopped feeling so worried and I now seem to be overwhelmed with a nervous sort of excitement. And the Seven Dwarves’ looks just as I imagined it, ever since Nuala told me about that one time her brothers got to go. It’s a wooden shack in the middle of the forest, warm light and muffled music spilling out through the cracks.

And there’s no signs anywhere, no indicator whatsoever that this is the most popular bar for Originals in the entire area. Just a plain-looking double door. As soon as Faust approaches it, the door flings open and reveals a grumpy looking old woman, my ears instantly getting assaulted by the actual volume of the rock music playing inside.

“Your Majesty,” the woman says when her eyes land on Faust, surprising me when her mouth cracks into a smile. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

As we file inside, she throws us all suspicious looks, but doesn’t say anything. And just like that, we’re in.

The place is so crowded, we have to elbow our way through. Everyone except Faust, of course. For him, apparently even the Red Sea would part without so much as a moment’s hesitation. Walking behind Zelda, I struggle to catch up. I have to zigzag so as to avoid slamming into dancing people and getting the beer from their overflowing mugs all over me.

But by the time Faust leads us to what seems to be a VIP lounge, I’m practically giddy with excitement. While getting settled next to Zelda, I let my eyes take the place in, one detail at a time. The light reflecting off the rows of liquor bottles above the enormous wooden bar. The collection of posters, records and other colorful shit pinned to wooden walls. And the metalwork, the magnificent metalwork all around me, like the delicate thorny branches winding around the staircase leading to the upper floors.

I lean forward in my seat and look up, trying to see exactly how many floors there are, which is why I barely even register the waiter until it’s my time to order. “It’s all on the house,” he says with a smile.

I grin at him. “A Poisoned Apple. No, ten of them.”

They just appear on the table before me. I almost fail to suppress a squeal. And for a while, I just look around, sipping the intoxicating, bright green drink and listening to the Vipers’ banter. Unlike me and Faust, they can’t seem to shut up. And as usual, Zelda is far from smiling, Sarya is taking every opportunity to be bossy and Harry is mostly cracking jokes.

As I look at him, an image pops into my mind of him asking Nuala to dance at the Ball. It was all so sweet, the way he shifted on his feet and avoided looking her in the eye. It strikes me as odd, that I used to think Harry was this violent guy. Sure, he acts tough, but I’ve never really seen him do anything of that sort and even when the Vipers still despised me, his greatest transgression was teasing me. I almost let out a chuckle thinking how the two of them, him and Nuala, would actually make a good couple.

What snaps me out of thinking about Harry and Nuala is Faust leaning in to say, his voice a bit hushed, “That book Moswen had me get for you…”

My head snaps to him. When did he switch seats with Zelda, I think to myself.

“Did it help?” he asks, locking eyes with me.

It’s hard to concentrate on what he’s saying when he’s being so annoyingly hot, his rolled-up sleeves revealing all the glorious muscles of his forearms.

But I snap out of it and turn serious, throwing a glance at the others. They seem to be immersed in their own conversation so I just make sure to keep my own voice low as I say, “Not really. Not even a single mention of the Stone.”

“I see.” He looks away for a second. “But don’t worry about it. Tomorrow’s what matters. If the third ritual doesn’t happen, we can just move on with our lives. And if it does, we’ll know more.”

I smile and shake my head. “That would’ve made me feel better if it weren’t for the other thing. Leo is our only suspect and we still haven’t even confirmed his part in it, let alone used him to find new clues.”

He lets out an impatient breath. “I thought I told you I’m waiting to hear from someone. It should be any day now.”

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I say as I roll my eyes at him.

For a second, I think I see his lips curl into a smile.

And then there’s a moment of silence.

“You know what?” I say, shaking my head and smiling as I recognize the song that’s coming on. “I actually think I’ll take your advice and not think about all that stuff, at least for one day.”

“Fair enough,” he says as he leans forward to take a sip of his drink.

I down the rest of my vodka as I let the music wash over me. But then my eyes land on yet another girl glancing at the prince sitting next to me as she walks past. Before I can stop it, a laugh escapes my lips.

When I turn to him, he’s looking at me with his eyebrows raised.

“That was, like,” I start, realizing that my speech is becoming a bit slurred, “the fifth girl that’s done the slow motion past our table just so she could leer at you.”

“It might surprise you,” he snaps at me a little, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, “but there are quite a lot of women who find me attractive.”

An image pops into my mind, of Nuala blushing as she looks at him. Oh my fucking god. My friend is one of those people. She’s in love with Faust.

He’s staring at me, waiting for my reaction. “Surprise me?” I reply with a strained laugh, the alcohol making me say things I’d never say otherwise. “You’re a hot, strong prince. You’re basically a fantasy come to life.”

His eyes are burning holes in mine. There’s an urgency in his voice when he leans even closer to whisper, “Just not yours.”

For a second, I just look at him. A part of me wants to tell him all about the huge crush I had on him back when I was in high school, when my life was so miserable, I desperately fantasized about someone rescuing me from it. But now I know it wasn’t just me. It was Nuala as well.

My lips curl into a joyless smile. “That’s the thing with fantasies,” I say as I start getting up. “They distract you from actually living your life.”

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He looks a bit stunned. And I’m already turning on my heel when he demands, “Where’re you going?”

“Bathroom,” I reply, frowning a little. “Do I have your permission, Your Majesty?”

He rolls his eyes at me and I walk away, excited about the opportunity to snoop around a little. And while my initial intention is to come straight back, on my way out of the bathroom, a ridiculously tall shifter blocks my way. He’s standing next to the jukebox, smiling and holding out a coin for me. “Play something for me,” he says.

I let out a squeal, grab the coin out of his hand and put on my favorite song in the whole wide world.

The next thing I know, I’m dancing with the guy as he tells me all about his latest pack and their squabbles. I’m having a great time, except for one thing. I’m afraid that when I get back, I’ll find the prince in the arms of one of the girls that have been eyeing him since we first walked into this place.

But that never happens, simply because he finds me first. Still dancing with the shifter, I sense a presence behind my back and I turn around to see him scowling at me.

Before I can do or say anything, he appears by my dancing partner’s side, making him instantly pull away from me and freeze in place. Faust leans to snarl in his ear, “Leave, now.”

The shifter doesn’t let him repeat himself. He throws me a scared glance and leaves the two of us alone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss at him, my hands balled into fists.

He doesn’t even look at me. “I’m taking you home, Longborn.” With that, he grabs me by the arm, opens a door that I haven’t even noticed and pushes me out into the cold night air.

“Let go of me,” I yell as I try to break his grip.

I fail miserably, but as I throw daggers at him, he loosens it himself and I snap my arm away from him.

“Wait here until I get the others,” he snaps as he turns to leave.

“No, I’m coming back inside,” I say with determination as I try to push past him.

He blocks my way. “What, to that cowardly little boyfriend of yours?” he says as he motions at the bar.

“Beats having to look at you.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then his eyes narrow and he comes so close, I feel his breath on my face. “Now that’s a lie, isn’t it?” he whispers, his voice commanding and husky as he keeps staring deep into my eyes.

I find myself mesmerized, my breathing heavy and my knees buckling with growing desire.

“Isn’t it?” he demands.

When I speak, my voice is a raspy whimper. “Fuck. You.”

The next thing I know, he grabs me by the waist and all of a sudden, I can feel the hardness of his muscles and his cock pressed against my entire body. It’s an almost uncomfortable shock of pleasure and I can’t help but let him kiss me, a moan escaping my lips even before he slides his tongue between them. He slams me into the wall, his mouth devouring, his hands stroking, kneading and squeezing almost all at once.

But it’s not enough. My fingers running through his hair, I take his lower lip between my teeth and I bite, hard. That makes him let out a lustful grunt and he pulls away, locking eyes with me as he gets his hand under my pants.

Without breaking eye contact, he finds the spot and slides his fingers right into me. I let out a helpless moan and I see his lips part, his eyes still piercing holes in mine.

I grab onto the muscles of his shoulders as he fingers me, the waves of pleasure making me dip my head back, close my eyes and dig my nails into his skin. His breathing ragged, I know he’s watching me, silently and intensely, but instead of making me feel self-conscious, it only increases my desire for him.

And I want to tell him to fuck me right here and now, but then I remember her.

Nuala.

That’s all it takes for it all to come crumbling around me. I realize I’m in some dingy bar with Faust, letting him finger me the night before the Second Round.

I have to muster all my determination to get his hand out of my pants and push him away. “No,” I squeeze out, my breathing slowly becoming less erratic.

He frowns and then leans in. “Something wrong?” he whispers in my ear.

I pull away to look him straight in the eye. “Yeah. It’s not like we won’t see each other ever again,” I make myself say, “so I really don’t want to become one of your fuck-girls.”

He just looks at me for a second and then lets out a rough laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not…” I draw in a breath, mad at myself for getting myself in this situation in the first place. “Look, you have to admit, our relationship is already weird. No need to add to it.”

He squints at me, getting in my face as he demands, “No, there’s something else. You need to tell me what it is.”

And he’s right, but I’m not ready to even think about all that, so I don’t say anything. I just shake my head.

“Fine,” he snaps, “then the day after tomorrow, I’m picking you up at seven and you’re going on a date with me.”

I laugh. “I might be dead by then.”

He lets out a sigh. “Then I’ll ask you again tomorrow.”

“I’ll just say no.”

“Then say it tomorrow.”

“Fine, can we leave now?”

It’s at that exact moment that I hear a ruckus from inside the bar and see Sarya, Harry and Zelda barge out. I take a step away from Faust and frown at them.

“Um,” Sarya says, sounding breathless, “I think we should really get moving.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “We think we made this pack of shifters really mad.”

Faust lets out a sigh and motions for them to follow him back to the Pull. Once we’re on the other side, he says bye to everyone and calls me over, looking all serious. And he tells me that his spies have caught Leo getting stuff that could be used for a blood ritual.

And just like that, I’m back to being scared shitless and only being able to think about the Second Round.

Chapter 35 - Quinn

The next morning, feeling bewildered and numb at the same time, I meet Faust and the other Chosen in the entrance hall. And there are so many other students gathered there, chatting away as they wait to see us off, but my eyes are searching for one in particular.

And I do spot her. Nuala is standing in the crowd, waving and smiling at me. A part of me thought she’d be too mad at me to come say bye, so I breathe a sigh of relief and throw her the widest, warmest smile I can muster.

Because the Second Round is about to happen, and my palms are sweating and my heart is throbbing in my chest.

I barely register taking the Elevator to the Arena, that’s how absentminded I am.

This time, it doesn’t take us to the booth overlooking the bleachers and the ring. Once we file out of it, we find ourselves in a room with one door and zero windows. The only furnishings are twelve plain chairs and screens hung off all four walls.

Faust motions for us to take out seats and goes to lean on the wall, his eyes directed at the screen across from him.

I follow his gaze and the very next second, the screen switches on. I see the camera catching the audience from all angles, people clapping, chanting, or just chatting away, waiting for the Third Round to begin.

Then the camera lands on the Pied Piper getting out of her seat in the central booth, instantly making the crowd go silent.

She approaches the glass booth wall, her eyes sweeping over the crowd.

“Believe me when I say I understand,” she starts in her signature bored drawl, “that you’d rather I skipped the whole tiresome introduction.”

I hear laughter and cheering from the audience. “However,” she continues, people falling silent once again, “even the Pied Piper has obligations she cannot dismiss so easily. It is my duty to welcome you here today, but it is my utmost pleasure to tell you…”

She pauses, scanning the crowd with her mesmerizing eyes. “...that this time, I will not be explaining the rules to you.”

I frown, my surprise echoed by the murmur all around me.

“Our Chosen will be led into the Arena one by one and it will be part of their assignment to gauge what exactly is expected of them.”

What the fuck, I think to myself, glancing around to see confusion on the faces of the other Chosen. I pay special attention to Leo, but he seems just as surprised as the rest of us. Admittedly, he could be faking it.

“So without further ado,” the Pied Piper continues, “I welcome you all to the Second Round of the annual Grimm Academy Trials.”

As the crowd cheers, whistles and claps, Faust moves away from the wall and comes to stand in front of us, clad in his Ouroboros waistcoat and wearing a somber look on his face.

It’s all eyes on him as he says, “Look under your chairs. You’ll find flags with numbers on them. The number on your flag tells you when it’s your turn.”

I listen. I get the flag and I look at the number. Twelve. Fucking shit, I think to myself as I glance around. Leo is number three, Sarya seven, Amra eight, Harry nine, Zelda ten and Faust eleven. Lucky bastards, all of them.

And just as I think I must have angered some god in a past life, a voice booms from some overhead speaker, saying “Number one.”

The guy who has it gets up and goes out the only door. As soon as it shuts behind him, the screens all turn off.

“Hey,” Harry yells out.

“What the hell,” Sarya joins in.

“Don’t we get to watch?” Amra asks, looking at Faust.

“Sorry,” he just says with a shake of his head.

Fucking shit, I think to myself.

I spend the next half hour fidgeting and glancing at my watch every five seconds.

Then number two gets called out. Rinse and repeat. One by one, the Chosen keep leaving the room, never to come back.

And just as I feel the urge to start pulling my hair out, number ten gets called out and Zelda walks out, leaving me and Faust alone.

I throw a glance at him and see he’s already looking at me. For a second, he stays silent. Then he says, “You’ll be fine,” his voice comforting.

I give him a weak smile and go back to glancing at my watch. I’m too nervous to think, let alone talk.

Soon, I hear the voice from the speaker announce, “Number eleven,” and I see Faust get up and walk straight to the exit.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he throws me a glance over his shoulder and says, “Good luck.”

And just like that, I’m all alone with my thoughts. Now that I can no longer see him, I find it hard not to think about the possibility of Faust dying out there. I shake my head, focusing all my attention on the blank screen before me. If I just keep my feelings shoved down until it’s all over, I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

Finally, my number gets called out and I force myself to get up. I wobble out the door and find myself in the ring, the silence of the room I’ve walked out of getting switched for the sound of thunderous clapping.

I don’t even glance at the audience all around me. All of my focus is on the only thing before me, a rack with a whole range of weapons stacked onto it, a small pedestal with a single knife placed right in front of it.

Frowning, I walk up to the whole display and tilt my head, inspecting the items one by one. No one will tell me what I’m supposed to do, that much is clear. But what if I’ve no clue, I think as I feel the seconds ticking away.

It’s then that I notice drops of blood around the knife on the pedestal. Squinting, I glance at the weapons on the rack. There’s everything from elegant swords to clunky maces there. And some of the hilts have blood stains on them as well.

I see.

I don’t hesitate. I take the knife off the pedestal and I use it to slice the skin of my palm. Then I walk up to the weapon rack and I pick out what I believe is called a scimitar, a single-edged sword with a curved blade.

As soon as I take a few swings with it, feeling that the weight should be fine, I feel a weird energy course out of the metal and straight into my body.

I don’t have time to linger on it, because the very next second, I get the urge to look up and ahead.

I see a huge, levitating glass cube appear at the center of the Arena and I hear the crowd break into thunderous clapping.

I barely register it all. As I walk, all my attention is focused on the cube, which is the size of a smaller house, seems to be empty and has a set of glass stairs leading up to it.

Once I’m in front of it, I hesitate.

I look down and see a couple of trails of blood leading from the stairs and out of the ring.

Holy hell.

But I’ve no choice. My legs shaking, I start climbing. There are murmuring sounds all around me, but I pay them no mind.

As soon as I step inside the cube, I see a stone pillar appear at its far end. It’s got flags stuck into it.

I squint, my heart pounding as I search for the number eleven. It’s there. Faust made it. And by the looks of it, so did numbers three, five, seven, eight, nine and ten.

So Leo, someone whose number I don’t know, Sarya, Amra, Harry and Zelda.

I blink in confusion. Am I just supposed to walk up to the pillar and plant my flag there?

But as soon as I think that, the cube shakes a little and I lean a bit forward, drawing in a breath as I prepare myself for whatever may come.

All the way on the other side of the cube, right in front of the pillar, I see a figure appear out of thin air and land on the ground with a deafening thud. Then another one and another one, until I see seven figures forming a line, all facing me.

Dark-red, stone knights.

I hear the crowd cheer and then go silent, waiting for me.

But what am I supposed to do? I glance at the scimitar in my hand. They can’t expect me to attack a bunch of stone fucking knights with a blade I don’t even know how to use?

My heart skipping random beats, I decide to at least start approaching.

I take a single, cautious step forward and I hear a thud to my right. Another stone knight, just dark-blue, has landed right beside me. Another one lands to my left and I lean a bit forward, glancing left and right to see four more appear to form a line on my side of the cube.

I see. I have allies, not just enemies, I think to myself.

And as soon as I do, the red knight directly me takes a step forward, unsheathes its sword and bows.

That’s the leader.

I just blink at it. Then a thought pops into my head, I raise my scimitar and I bow as well, getting another wave of cheering from the audience.

And just like that, it begins. All the red knights charge straight at me and my own soldiers, making me freeze in place.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s only when they’re already in front of us and the red leader stops to swing his massive stone sword at me that I realize I need to get moving.

My heart threatening to burst out of my ribcage, I lunge to my right, dodging the attack and crashing into one of the blue knights.

As quickly as I can, I straighten up and get into the position to attack. I keep swinging my scimitar at the red knight in front of me, but I don’t do any damage. I barely manage to dodge its attacks.

But at least now that I’m moving, my own soldiers seem to be coming to life. All around me, red and blue knights start fighting, their stone swords creating a low, thunderous noise as they slam into each other.

And my soldiers seem to be protecting me, creating a sort of barrier between me and the enemy, but one still manages to get through.

I barely have time to lift my scimitar before its sword cuts into my flesh. I curse out loud, take a wobbly step back and watch one of the blue knights cut it in half, the red stone crumbling to the ground before me.

It’s fine, I think to myself as I grit my teeth and throw a quick glance at my shoulder. It’s just a surface wound. I’ll be fine.

As I keep dodging the attacks, each more ferocious than the last, I force myself to focus. I see three of six blue knights shattered on the ground.

If I don’t do something fast, I’m going to fucking die.

I guess I’ll have no choice but to use my magic.

Fuck.

Stepping behind one of my own soldiers, I stop for a second and tap the Element Rune, visualizing Earth. The idea is to blast all the stone around me to pieces and be done with it. If I can manage it.

But absolutely nothing happens, as if the stone isn’t reacting to my magic at all. I frown, but then I see another red knight charging at me with its sword raised high.

I draw in a panicked breath and tap the Element Rune again, trying to avoid the attack by using Air instead of Earth.

Once again, nothing happens and I freeze, the knight already swinging its sword at me.

The next thing I know, one of my own lunges before me, cuts the attacker in half and comes crumbling to the ground.

I’ll never make it to the other side, I think to myself as I glance at the pillar. It seems to be just as far away as it was when this started, I’m down to only two knights and to make things worse, it seems that something’s blocking my control of the elements.

That thought makes me glance at the weapon in my hand. I invoke Sight and my vision sharpens and blurs all at once. I see the blood magic in the scimitar drawing power out of my body.

So it’s supposed to help and make it worse. Perfect.

As yet another red knight takes a swing at me, I let out an angry grunt. I try to dodge the attack, but its blade manages to slice into my waist.

I fall to the ground and I cry out, my hand darting to my waist, where I feel hot blood starting to gush out. I hear the people in the crowd gasp, but I focus all my attention on crawling away, with gritted teeth, as quickly as possible.

Pain searing the entire left side of my body, I take cover behind the last of my own knights and I try to fling the scimitar away, hoping to break the spell. But it just stays stuck to my hand.

I don’t have time to keep trying because a horrifying sound makes me look up and I see the knight I took cover behind come crashing to the ground.

And just like that, I’m left alone with the five remaining red knights.

Shit, this is not good. I’m on my knees, panting, dizzy and in terrible pain. And the red leader is walking up to me, his sword held high.

My heart skips a beat and I close my eyes shut, imagining the sword cutting into me.

Fear threatens to overwhelm me, but instead of letting it paralyze me, I shut my eyes and take a deep, forceful breath. I sense energy align all around me, flooding me with such a tremendous feeling of connection with everything that, for a second, I think it’s going to fry my fucking brain.

I open my eyes and just as the red leader is about to bring his sword down on me, I feel the power rush back into my body and I tap the Element Rune.

Nothing.

Without hesitation, I push myself up off the ground and start running in the direction of the pillar. I hear the sound of the sword digging into the glass floor.

And I hear the knights charging after me, but I try to drown it all out. I thought I’d get my power back if I only got rid of the scimitar and the effects of what appears to be blood magic. But there’s something more going on here. It’s as if none of the elements inside the glass cube can be manipulated, at all. So I think my best chance is to just try to make a run for it.

I almost get to my goal.

But just as I’m about to come to a stop and plant my flag, something slams into me and sends me flying to the ground.

Lying on my back, I see the red leader appear above me, the other four stopping behind him.

Once again, he raises his sword and I have to fight the onset of a panic attack.

At this point, I’ll try anything. I close my eyes shut and I tap one of my unactivated Runes.

There’s a moment of silence before I hear it, the labored sound of things being brought into existence. And when I open my eyes, I see three new blue knights appear out of thin air and land around my enemies with a loud thud.

As they take care of four of the five knights, I hear gasping from the audience all around me, but my eyes are fixed on the red leader.

Not paying the rest of his army any mind, he’s swinging his sword down on me.

For a second, I feel my heart stop.

Then I tap my newly activated rune and I make a stone shield block his sword.

I don’t hesitate. I push myself off the ground and lunge to my right, straight at the stone pillar.

Just as I raise the hand in which I have the flag, with the corner of my eye, I see his blade swinging at me again.

I muster all my strength and with one forceful movement, I drive the fucking flag in with the rest.

I don’t wait to turn back to the red leader, but when I do, I see him and all the other knights, including mine, disappear.

As soon as they’re gone, I come crashing to the ground, panting, bloody and in terrible pain.

What surprises me is that the people in the Arena stay silent. I glance up at the Pied Piper’s booth. She’s standing right in front of the glass wall, looking down at me.

Almost right away, I see a medic rush into the ring. Holding me up, he leads me out of the ring and into a hallway, dealing with my worst wound while walking. And I assume we’re going straight to the interview because it’s the same hallway I’ve walked before. And it’s packed with people staring at me in awe, including the prince’s uncle.

“Genesis, really?” he asks as we walk past him, but it’s not really a question. “I have to say I didn’t expect you to become so powerful so fast.”

I just smile and keep walking. The worst is over, but the pain is still a lot to bear.

But just as we approach the archway leading into the interview room, the chatter of the crowd drifting through, the medic stops and just remains standing there.

I frown, but before I can ask him what’s going on, I feel a switch being flipped in my head.

The next thing I know, my body starts leading me in the opposite direction, away from all the people and down a series of deserted hallways, each darker than the last. When I finally reach an old wooden door and my body stops before it, my own hand betraying me by raising to grab the handle, my heart is beating so wildly, I fear it might just stop.

Chapter 36 - Quinn

My hand on the handle, I push the door open and, no matter how hard I try, fail to stop myself from walking into the darkness behind it.

But as soon as I’m through the door and my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I see it’s just a large, windowless storage space with rows of crates and cardboard boxes along the walls.

I remain standing there, my heart pounding wildly and my mind racing to come up with a way out.

But it doesn’t take long for me to sense a presence behind my back. I still don’t have control over my own body so I can’t turn around. At the same time, this makes me feel relieved and fills me with dread.

I hear footsteps and I feel a veil being thrown over my consciousness. If I could do anything, I’d scream, louder than I’ve ever screamed before. But I can do absolutely nothing, even as I see a person walk around me and stop right in front of my rounded eyes.

Just like that time in front of the woods, I see all the individual features of the person’s face. The eyes. The nose. The mouth. But they don’t fit together and the end result is a mess that my mind simply can’t comprehend.

The person scoffs and takes one step closer to me.

Feeling my heart about to burst out of my ribcage, it finally hits me.

When it happened, that time in front of the woods, they tried to take the Diary away from me. And the only one who’d seen Moswen by then was Leo.

Leo.

This is Leo, using Mind Magic on me. I’m going to die now, I think to myself. I know too much and he needs to get rid of me as soon as possible. Think, Quinn, think, I urge myself, but he’s already getting ready to strike, I can feel it.

I imagine closing my eyes shut and opening them again. And for a second, my Sight allows me to break through his magic and an image flickers before my eyes. The image of Ouroboros.

For a second, I feel my heart stop. House of Faust sigil. He has the House of Faust sigil embroidered onto his shirt.

Then all of a sudden, something sharp gets violently shoved into my chest, the instant wave of pain rendering me blind.

The next thing I know, I’m stumbling backwards with my hands on my chest as the door behind me closes almost without a sound.

He’s left me for dead.

And I can move now, but that only makes me crash into the door and slide down to the ground, the throbbing pain spreading from my very core keeping me stiff as a corpse.

I try to scream and yell for help, but that only makes me cough up blood. I feel the life being drained out of my body, but there’s no longer a single part of it I can make cooperate.

And just as my eyes start threatening to close, I force them open and I invoke Sight. I look around me, searching for something I could use to get out of this alive.

The only thing I see is this strange web of light ribbons on the ground. They remind me of blood vessels, especially because they seem to be flowing. I make my tired mind reach out to them.

I tug at one.

Nothing.

I wince, but I tug at another.

And I hear a strange crackling sound and my ears prick up, my skin feeling the ground beneath me start warming up.

“Hello, little one,” I hear her say, immediately recognizing Dame Gothel’s voice. “Thought you’d never notice me.”

How are you here, I want to ask, but I can’t reply. I can’t even open my mouth.

“I could sense that you were in danger,” she whispers to me as if she’d read my mind. And as she does it, I start feeling life flow back into my body. “After all,” she adds, “I did taste your blood.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Yes, you owe me one, if that’s what you wanted to ask,” Dame Gothel says with a chuckle and disappears.

And it all hurts like hell, but blood stops flowing out of my wound and my head starts clearing up, making my mind rush to figuring out the next step.

I crawl away from the door so I can open it. I need to get out of here quickly, before everyone else starts leaving the Arena. I wince as I reach for the doorknob. I really think I shouldn’t let anyone see me, considering it must be him who attacked me just now.

Faust. The most powerful man at the Academy. The most dangerous vampire. The leader of the Vipers. And how did I manage to not see it, that he is also the one behind my boxes of chocolates, it’s beyond me.

So I slowly get up, letting out a wince with every move. I open the door, take a peek outside and rush down the hallway, checking on my wound every two seconds to make sure I haven’t started bleeding again. But it’s now only a surface wound and even though it’s agonizingly painful, I think I won’t be dying any time soon.

As quickly as I can, I make my way back to my room, which I’ve decided is safe enough for the time being, considering he thinks he’s killed me. It seems that everyone’s still busy with the interviews, because I don’t bump into a single person as I go.

Once I’m there, it’s like the shock dies down a little and the fear takes over. I rush to the corner of my room farthest from the door, I sit there and I pull my knees to my chest.

And just as I’m about to start pulling my hair out, it finally hits me. I whip out my phone and with shaky hands, I text Nuala to come as soon as possible.

I barely move as I wait, but my mind makes up for it by frantically running in circles. He tried to kill me. No, it can’t be. But I saw what I saw.

I want to murder him. Rip his fucking throat out for making me start trusting him just so he could eliminate me as some nameless threat to his fucking image and sinister plans.

It doesn’t take my friend longer than ten minutes, but by the time she barges into my room, I’m livid.

But what I see next has me tense up and push myself off the floor, my lips pressing tight. It’s him. Faust is in my room with Nuala and I’m so worked up about it, I feel I won’t even be able to breathe.

But his eyes are already on the blood on my shirt. He appears right in front of me, his nostrils flaring and the look in his eyes turning savage. “Who did this to you?” he growls.

I’ve never seen him this angry.

Clenching my fists and gritting my teeth, I throw daggers at him. What a marvelous fucking actor he is.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demands, his arms vibrating with rage. “Why won’t you tell me who did this to you?”

It takes me a second, but I finally squeeze out, my voice as threatening as I can make it, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Faust, but I’m not playing it with you. I want you out.”

I point at the door and he takes a step back, a frown clouding his forehead. He seems as if he’s struggling to regain control. “What’re you talking about?”

“Get the fuck out,” I command him, I tap my Element rune and I send him flying back.

The sound that his body makes when it hits the wall is a sharp thud. He almost instantly regains control of his body, but even after he’s found his footing, he just keeps standing there, staring at me.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” he snaps at me, almost rips the door off the hinges and disappears.

Only once he’s gone do I notice that Nuala is still there. I look at her and all of a sudden, I can’t keep it in any longer. I let out a shuddering breath and start crying, falling into the arms she’s already holding out for me.

Once we’re seated next to each other on my bed, the avalanche of questions begins. Nuala knows nothing and wants to understand everything.

“Wait a second,” I tell her, my voice shaky with shock and crying. I grab my bag off the floor and take out the diary.

As soon as she appears, Moswen lets out a gasp. “Holy Word,” she mutters as she rushes to grab my hand.

It just passes through mine, but she doesn’t even acknowledge it. “You look like you barely made it out of there alive,” she says.

“It’s Faust,” I cut in, unable to keep it in any longer. I throw them each a look, seeing their foreheads scrunch up, but I don’t back down. “It was Faust all along,” I say and the rest just pours out of me like an angry waterfall.

By the time I’m done, both Nuala and Moswen look absolutely shocked.

“How scary that must have been for you…” With teary eyes, Moswen even tries to pat me on the head before she says, albeit hesitantly, “But I did tell you to stay away from him.”

I almost snap at her. “Come on, Moswen, not now.”

“But wait, you didn’t actually see the person?” Nuala cuts in.

“No, but…”

“Then you’re wrong,” she cuts me off, a touch of anger in her voice.

“You can’t be sure that I am,” I reply, shaking my head and pressing my lips.

“Actually,” my friend starts, looking as if she’s trying to calm down, “I think I can.”

I raise my eyebrows, but she’s already turning to Moswen. “While all of you were fighting, including Andreas, I went for a walk and ended up at the graveyard.”

That strikes me as odd, but Nuala is already taking out her phone and showing Moswen a picture. “This is what I found there, and what I think is, well, the third blood ritual.”

I lean forward to take a look. They’re stacked onto a weathered grave. The bunch of burning eyes that I’m looking at right now.

With bated breath, I look to Moswen. “Yes,” she says with a sigh. “That’s a blood ritual. And it seems to have something to do with Sight.”

I take in a deep breath and say, “So now it’s all three bloodlines. It was shifters, then vampires, now faes.”

“What could it all mean?” Nuala asks.

“I don’t know what the fuck it means,” I hear myself hiss, “I just know who’s behind it all.”

“Quinn,” Nuala starts, but I don’t let her finish.

“Nuala,” I practically growl at her. “You think I want this to be happening? For crying out loud, I actually started to like the guy,” I keep going, getting more worked up with each word. “I don’t know how it’s happened, I mean, I know people, but he seems to have managed to fool us all. Of course, now it all seems so obvious. It isn’t just Leo who’s both a vampire and a Viper. And everything else that we eventually found out, well, Faust has a web of spies and servants, he could’ve planted the evidence so easily. Especially since we made him fucking chief of the investigation, holy fuck, how stupid we were. But we won’t be making the same mistake. I mean, I did let my anger get the best of me just now, when he was still here, but I didn’t actually tell him that I know. That I know he’s tried to kill me. So we can just pretend that we don’t know, which is actually quite fitting because we really need to make him our top priority right now. Learning as much as we can, tailing him to finally figure out what the hell’s going on. So what do you think, girls, you with me?”

When I finally finish, catching my breath, there’s a tense silence as both of them look at me with worry in their eyes. “Oh please don’t look at me like that,” I say with a sigh. “I’m so tired.”

And I move to lie down, but it’s at that exact moment that I hear a sharp knock at the door.

Suddenly alert, I sit up straight, I close the diary shut to get Moswen back to safety and I say, “Come in.”

To my surprise, it’s the Pied Piper’s assistant. “Miss Longborn?” she asks and I nod. “The Pied Piper would like you to pay her a visit.”

I throw a glance at Nuala and say, “Of course, I’ll come first thing tomorrow.”

“Now, if you don’t mind,” the girl insists.

Oh fucking hell, I think as I stop myself from letting out a groan. Because I just know it would be full of desperation.

Chapter 37 - Quinn

As we make the climb to the Grimm Tower, where the Pied Piper’s office is, the assistant and I only exchange a couple of words. I don’t think she knows anything about what’s just happened because she thinks I’ve sustained my injuries during the Trials. And to be honest, I don’t linger on it too much. I don’t even try to figure out why the Pied Piper wants to see me, that’s how shaken up I still am.

When we finally enter the foyer where I last found myself on the day of Professor Mistila’s shocking suicide, I expect the assistant to tell me to wait in front of the office. To my surprise, she knocks on the door opposite to it.

“Yes,” I hear the Pied Piper say and the girl nudges me to walk in.

I hesitate for a second, but then I open the door and peek inside. I don’t see her, but I hear her when she says, “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

I walk inside and close the door behind me, surprised when I see that I’ve found myself in the Pied Piper’s private rooms. It’s still bright outside, but in here, it may as well be the middle of the night. As far as I can tell, there are no windows and the space is lit only by a couple of candles placed in sconces along the rough stone walls. I take a hesitant look around, noticing rows of bookshelves, a coffee table and a couple of easy chairs here and there. But except for those, the place is very minimalist.

“Care to join me?” I hear the Pied Piper ask and my head snaps in the direction of the voice.

I haven’t noticed her because it’s so dark and she’s wearing her usual black robe. But she’s standing next to a commode to my right, holding out a glass filled with a transparent liquid. Thinking a bit of alcohol might be exactly what I need right now, I nod and take a few steps closer to her.

But she doesn’t just give it to me. She raises the wrist of her other hand to her mouth and bites into it without so much as flinching. As I watch, she lets a single drop of her blood fall into the glass, instantly making the liquid turn deep red.

“No, thank you,” I say as I stop where I find myself. It would probably only take my pain away, but I’m not prepared to risk it.

She just looks at me for a second. Then she lets out a chuckle and shakes her head, stalking up to me as she says, “You know, Miss Longborn, when I first saw you, I had the feeling you weren’t the sheltered pup I’m used to seeing around here. However, I never would have thought you’d be this suspicious.”

“Does it really come as a surprise,” I ask, frowning a little, “considering how we met?”

She laughs again. “If you think I’m going to apologize for that, you’re sadly mistaken.” She shakes her head and walks around me, stopping once she’s in front of me again, as if I were her prey and she wanted to take a better look at me. “I’ve lived through wars that went on for a hundred years so I refuse to let you youngsters convince me that the way I treat you is anything less than merciful.”

I scoff. “You don’t have to be Dracula for me to think I should be careful around you.”

She squints, cranes her neck to put her drink down on the commode and turns back to me. “What about me? Shouldn’t I be careful around you?”

“What’re you talking about?” At least one good thing came out of all this, I think to myself. Any other day and I’d be terrified to speak to her this way.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, she takes a step back, folds her arms and says, “You’ve been hiding things from me, little mouse, ever since you came here.”

“Hiding things from you?” I reply, feigning surprise to buy time and figure out what she knows. “For me to do that, we’d have to have some kind of relationship first.”

“Don’t do that,” she warns. “You’ll only wear out my patience.”

“Then tell me exactly what you’re accusing me of.”

She lets out a laugh. “Let’s see,” she says as she walks up to an easy chair and takes a seat, the tail of her dress dragging after her. “Sneaking into the Forbidden Section in the Library, for example. Lying to my assistant on the day of the First Round. Lying to me on the day of Professor Mistila’s death.” She pauses to throw me an amused look. “Should I go on?”

“It’s not like you hadn’t lied to me,” I protest, clenching my fists.

“When have I ever done that?”

“After the First Round, you told me you’d look into that mess that someone left in the woods. People were murdered, for crying out loud. And I waited, but you did absolutely nothing.”

“There was nothing there,” she says, her voice turning colder, “and you know it.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she raises her hand to silence me. “No, I’ve let this go on long enough.” She gets up again and walks up to me, throwing me a look with absolutely no amusement in it. “Ever since you came here, trouble has been following you, little mouse. And I’ve let you do as you please, even after Professor Mistila, but now that you’ve been assaulted, for the second time, if I may add, I’d like you to tell me what exactly is going on.”

“How do you know?” I ask, my mind buzzing.

“That is none of your concern.”

So he told her. It’s only now that it’s hitting me, but of course, it’s a real possibility that she’s in cahoots with him.

My lips pressed tight, I finally decide to say, “There’s nothing going on. Can I leave now? I’m pretty beat, you know, from the ethically dubious Trials you’re forcing me to participate in.” I turn to face the door.

“Well,” she drawls, “that’s precisely the thing. You’ll no longer be participating in them.”

That makes me stop and turn back to her, frowning. “What? But it’s too late now. I have the holy contract signed with that magic tree or whatever,” I say as I lift my wrist to show her the tattoo.

“You do indeed. And it would be impossible for you to get out of it without dying…” She pauses and quirks an eyebrow at me. “But there’s quite a lot that a Pied Piper can do that no one else can.”

I’d lie if it didn’t make me think for a second, but I almost immediately shake my head and say, “No. I have to participate.”

“Really?” she goes back to that amused look of hers. “And why is that?”

I shake my head again, cursing myself for reacting the way I did and trying to think of a way out of it. “I hate not getting to finish what I started,” I say with a smirk.

She just looks at me for a second. “Very well.”

“What, that’s it?” I ask, frowning.

She shrugs. “There is a way for me to get you out of the contract, but it requires you to… not struggle, let’s put it that way.”

I squint at her. “Lucky me. Does that mean I get to walk out of here alive?”

She lets out a chuckle. “The door is right there, but before you leave...” She takes a step closer to me and looks deep into my eyes. “You should know you’re not the first of your kind I’ve encountered in this life. You have a burning fire inside you and you think you can take on the world, don’t you? But fire is a fickle thing and it sometimes burns the one that wields it.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just that it would do you good to remember that I’m keeping an eye on you.”

That makes me shudder, but I force myself not to let it show. I give her a smile, turn on my heel and walk away. I don’t know what she’s up to, this Pied Piper of ours, but the one thing I’m sure of is that she’s lying to me. And to be honest, I’ve fucking had it with people doing that.

Chapter 38 - Quinn

We’re out in the garden, Nuala and I, leafing through a stack of books lying next to our splayed-out bodies. The warm June sun is making the grass glisten and somewhere much closer to the sky, the birds are filling the air with their song. It’s such a seemingly peaceful day and it’s been almost two months since it happened. Since I got attacked with mind magic and left to bleed out in some long-forgotten broom closet.

But I’m still stuck in this limbo of a life — halfway between the past and the future, longing for the summer break, visiting the shelter, maybe even trying to transfer to an Academy closer to it. And we’ve been kicked out of the Main Hall to allow the staff to get it ready for the Grand Ball, the one that’s held at the end of the Third Round. Which is tomorrow. And there’s someone out there who wants to use the opportunity to do something unspeakable, and that person is the guy I almost let myself fall for.

So as much as I’d like it to be, simply relaxing and enjoying the day is just not possible. My mind buzzing, I force myself to keep turning the pages in search of anything that might help us. Sure, I’ve managed to unlock my second Rune, Genesis, which gives me quite an advantage, but I still have no idea what the Stone really is, what it does, how it behaves…

I let out a sigh and look up from the book I currently have before me, Geology of the Western Scion Lands. I see Nuala scrolling on her phone.

I frown, saying, “I don’t mean to be a slave-driver, Nuala…”

She looks up, her face flushing. “I know, I know.” She hesitates before she adds, “But there’s a lot of stuff being written about the Trials. Apparently, even the Keeper is going to be there tomorrow.” She glances at her phone. “And they’re talking about you again. Saying all sorts of stupid shit.”

“I told you I don’t want to know any of it,” I protest. “Unless they mention him and where he’s disappeared to, I don’t want to hear another word.”

“Alright, alright,” Nuala says, raising her hands in defense and then picking up her own book again.

And I try to turn my focus back onto mine, but it proves to be impossible. Because now I can’t stop thinking about where he could be. Ever since it happened, I’ve only been working on three things. Looking for information on the Stone, training to get good enough to be able to defeat him and trying to find out where he’s been hiding.

“It just doesn’t make any sense, does it?” I hear myself say and I see Nuala look up from her book. “That he wouldn’t just kill me and continue as planned.”

My friend presses her lips tight. “Unless he wasn’t the one who did it.”

“It could’ve been no one else,” I insist, for the millionth time. “I honestly can’t believe you’re still defending him.”

I pause, my eyebrows pulling down. “Nuala, do you know something I don’t?”

She frowns. “What’re you talking about?”

“I did think it suspicious, after the Second Round,” I start, squinting at her, “when you said you went for a walk and just ended up at the graveyard.”

She lets out a nervous laugh. “What, Quinn, you think I was the one who tried to kill you?”

I just throw her a look.

“Fine,” she says with a sigh and digs something out of her pocket. Something small, wrapped in a piece of cloth and tied with a rubber band. “You’re right, I didn’t just end up at the graveyard. I went to look for this.”

I take it, turning it between my fingers as I give it a closer inspection. I find that it reeks so I hold it closer to my nose. Then it hits me. “Salvia luna? One of the shift inducing plants I read about in the Restricted Section?”

My friend nods. “I guess I figured, maybe you’re right, you know, when you say I’m suppressing things I shouldn’t be suppressing. And who knows what this bloodbath thing will bring.”

I grin. “I’m so happy for you. But why didn’t you tell me about it?” I protest as I give the little package back to her.

She shakes her head and lets out a sigh. “Because I didn’t want this to happen. I’m still not planning on using it unless absolutely necessary. And I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

I just look at her for a second. I’m literally itching to tell her I think she should just try it, but I’ve learned my lesson. My friend doesn’t appreciate being pushed into things. “Fair enough,” I choose to say.

“Anyway,” Nuala says, obviously wanting to change the subject, “I still think that Andreas couldn’t have done it. When I found the eyes at the graveyard that day, they were still burning and he was at the Trials, possibly even in the ring.”

That makes me feel frustrated with her again. “Nuala, he’s a prince. He could have easily gotten someone else to do the Blood Ritual for him.” I keep talking, now more to myself than her. “And let’s not forget the fact that he didn’t attack me just once. If we’re counting the time he tried to steal Moswen.”

A realization suddenly hits me and I almost jump up, making Nuala squint at me with worry in her eyes.

“What happened with Faust, the same thing could be happening with the Stone,” I blurt out. She just looks at me, frowning, so I rush to explain, “For a very long time, the mistake we were making was looking in the wrong place. We were following Leo instead of Faust.”

“I’ve literally no idea what you’re talking about,” my friend drawls, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“I just need to get one book,” I say as I get up off the ground. “Meet me in my room in ten.”

And it takes me a little longer than that, but Nuala has her own copy of my key so once I get there, she’s already sitting on my bed, looking up at me with growing curiosity in her eyes. Probably because I’m shaking with excitement.

“It’s here,” I almost whisper as I drop onto the bed next to her and let Moswen out so she can hear it as well. “It’s all here,” I repeat myself.

Now there’s two pairs of eyes looking at me without blinking. I crack open the book, hold it out and point at the title.

“The Prince and the Stone?” Moswen mutters.

“Yes,” I nod vigorously, “and I know that we haven’t just been looking through non-fiction, we’ve been scouring fairy tales as well.”

Moswen’s eyes are starting to round. It’s dawning on her as well. “But some are still in the Fiction Section. Especially the ones not collected by the Brothers themselves.”

“Exactly,” I almost yell out, “this being one of them.”

“So, what does the story say?” Nuala asks with bated breath. “What does the Stone do?”

I draw in a breath, making a face. “It doesn’t say exactly,” I start, “but if you read between the lines, I think it’s pretty obvious. So there’s a prince, obviously, and his father is ill and his kingdom is divided. One day, the prince leaves his kingdom so he can go steal the Stone, the only thing that can unite the three nations under his rule.”

I see Nuala nodding away, seemingly genuinely interested.

“On his way, he meets a wolf, a snake and a bird. All three are in some kind of trouble and the prince saves them, you know how these stories go,” I say as I wave my hand.

Moswen just nods.

“Anyway,” I keep talking, “all three animals offer to repay the prince for the kindness he’s shown them and he asks the wolf to give him its heart, the snake to give him its blood and the bird to give him its eye.”

“And they do?” Nuala asks in a tense voice.

“Of course they do. And then there’s this nonsensical part near the end, just before the prince finally finds the Stone. But once he’s before it, the Stone tells him it cannot be stolen. It can only be won by the one who already has the support of all three of his clans.”

“Okay,” Nuala drawls, nudging me to go on.

I lift my finger and say, “But then the prince realizes he’s already got it. He takes the three gifts, eats and drinks them and bonds with the Stone, getting enormous power that allows him to rule his kingdom without any objection from anyone ever.”

Moswen frowns. “And that’s it? What are we supposed to make of that?”

“Can’t you see?” I rush to say, almost shaking with excitement. “The prince ends up ruling his kingdom without any objection from anyone? That’s such a weird thing to say.” I pause. “Unless you’re talking about mind magic.”

“Holy Word,” Moswen blurts out. “Being able to use it on an entire kingdom, that would be unprecedented, what amount of power would the Stone have to have?”

“A tremendous amount,” Nuala replies with an incredulous look in her eyes.

“But there’s one good thing to be found in all this,” I cut in, burning to start using this information to better prepare myself for tomorrow. “If we stop Faust from eating and drinking the stuff from the blood rituals, we’ve basically stopped him from being able to use the Stone.”

“How do we do that if we can’t even find him?” Moswen asks.

“Well,” I start, albeit hesitantly, “there’s only one option left. I didn’t want to do it so as not to draw any attention to myself, but now I think I’ll have to pay Faust’s uncle a visit.”

“His uncle?” Moswen echoes my words as she throws me a funny look. “I thought you said Faust had no family left.”

“I did,” I reply, “no family but his uncle.”

It makes me frown, how pale she turns. “And his name is Baldor?”

I nod, feeling seriously confused.

But Moswen just turns to Nuala and asks, “Nuala, I’m so sorry, but could you leave the two of us alone for just a little while?”

My friend throws me a look, but she gets up and leaves me sitting there, speechless, waiting for Moswen to tell me what the fuck is going on.

“I know you’re going to hate me when you see this,” she finally says, “but I have to show you.”

Without saying a word, I draw in a breath and give her a nod, letting her put her weightless palm on my forehead and suck me into yet another one of her memories.

This time, I find myself looking straight into her eyes. It startles me, until I realize she’s in front of a mirror, brushing her hair.

And while here it’s actually furnished and beautifully kept, I recognize her room. It’s my room, the one I’m currently sitting in.

It’s only when my eyes dart to one corner of the mirror that I see him. A vampire stalking towards me. I feel myself jump and I quickly turn around.

Then, to my own surprise, I get out of my chair and throw myself into the man’s arms. He has ridiculous side-burns, but he’s handsome and he’s looking at me with mischief in his eyes.

“I thought I told you to stop using the passage,” Moswen tells him, but her voice is so soft and not at all scolding. This is her beau, I finally realize.

“And let them keep me away from you?” he asks as he strokes her hair. “Not a chance.”

It disturbs me, how familiar the features of his face are.

“But if you could only prove it to them, that it has nothing to do with you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispers in her ear. “Soon none of that will matter. I’ll have built an entirely new world, where I am king of everything the eye can see. What will your parents have to say to me then?”

She pulls away from his embrace a little. “That’s when they’ll start with the actual protests. Baldor,” she starts, but she’s hesitant.

It makes me draw in a breath. But it is him, just without the armor on his arm and the walking stick in his hand.

“You know they’ll never accept it,” Moswen finally says. “I know our House is ancient, but they’re liberals to their cores and they’ll never allow you to put everyone under your rule. They’ll rather die.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Baldor growls a little. “I only care about you. Do you believe in me?”

“I do, but…”

At that exact moment, I hear a loud thud and Moswen’s head snaps to her left.

And there she is, standing in the doorway with a pissed-off look on her face. My mother, just the way I saw her in Moswen’s previous memories.

“Get out,” she hisses at the man in Moswen’s arms.

And then everything goes black and I find myself sitting on my bed again, looking up at Moswen, my chest heaving and my eyes narrowing. She’s just standing there, waiting for my reaction with apparent unease on her face.

“What was my mother doing in your room?”

“I think you know the answer to that question,” she mutters.

I can tell she’s struggling not to look away. “Say something,” she pleads.

“You’re my fucking sister?” I yell out.

I get up, fuming. My hands balled into fists, I walk past her, all the way to the window. I look out, but I don’t really see anything.

When I finally speak, my voice is full of anger and bitterness. “How funny it is, to find out, all at once, that you exist and that you’ve betrayed me.” I turn to throw daggers at her. “That you’ve betrayed this entire Academy, in fact.”

“I didn’t realize he was alive,” she insists, her voice low but forceful.

I shake my head, my lips pressed tight. “Doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about the bloodbath or your own involvement in it.”

“I wasn’t involved,” she protests, struggling not to raise her voice. “And my parents, our parents, they did warn me about it, that I do remember, but I didn’t have any recollection of it actually happening, not until you and I learned that it did.”

“And then?” I demand.

“Then it started coming back to me, little by little. Something going terribly wrong at the Trials, people yelling and screaming, smoke billowing…” She pauses and then adds even more forcefully. “But it was all so vague, utterly useless.”

I wave my hand in dismissal, forcing myself not to snap at her.

She takes a step closer to me. “Quinn, when we learned about the bloodbath, I honestly assumed someone else was following in Baldor’s footsteps. And I didn’t want you to know.” she lets out a sigh. “That I’d fallen for a man like that and been so blind to what was really happening.”

“I don’t care about your excuses,” I snarl at her. “I’m throwing your diary away and I don’t care what happens to you next.”

She practically gets in my face and speaks in a rushed, pleading voice. “Please, little sister, we don’t know anything about the magic tying me to the diary. It might be broken once the Trials are over. I might not get a chance to talk to you ever again.”

I just look at her for a second, fuming. Then I rush to my bed, grab her diary and close it shut.

And just like that, she disappears. I throw myself onto my bed, struggling to stop myself from screaming away all my shock, anger and sadness. To think that all this time, she knew she was my sister and never told me… Never told me anything about my parents, about herself, about me. It hurts like hell, especially now that I can be pretty sure that my parents were killed in the bloodbath. Now I’ll never get to meet them and I’ll never even get to learn anything about them.

But I’ve no time for that. The Third Round is tomorrow and now I’m facing an even more dangerous opponent. Maybe Faust Junior is stronger, but I was counting on my insights into his personality. Faust Senior is a great unknown to me. And I can’t exactly waltz into the Pied Piper’s office and ask for her help. She may be in cahoots with him. But if I don’t do that, what else am I supposed to do?

And then it occurs to me.

Chapter 39 - Faust

Ihear a knock at my door and I smell my uncle, but I don’t get up.

But he knocks again.

And again.

Finally, I lift my head off the pillow. “I’m asleep,” I growl from where I’m lying.

But apparently, he doesn’t give a shit. After a moment of silence, he opens the door and walks into my bedroom uninvited. I look up at him and slowly push myself into a seated position.

“The Archduke,” he starts, breaking off to scrunch his nose up at the mess that my room is. There’s clothes and empty bottles of alcohol strewn all over the floor. “The Archduke wants an answer regarding his proposal,” he finishes, turning his eyes back on me.

“What, now, the day before the Third Round?” I protest, rubbing my eyes because right now even the late afternoon sun is enough to hurt them.

“That would be excellent, yes.”

“Then no,” I say, getting worked up about it, fast. “Remind him that there is such a thing as the Treaty. I don’t care if he’s trembling at the very thought of not being able to use mind magic on humans, I won’t let anyone interfere with their right to run their own countries.”

Uncle scowls at me. “Let’s not be rash, Andreas,” he demands. “I don’t care what you decide regarding Erfurt’s proposal, but I need you to give him something, anything.”

I let out a bitter scoff. “So you want me sucking up to the old fart?”

He shakes his head and gives an impatient sigh. “I thought I told you, nephew, how important it is for us to have as many people of power at the Trials tomorrow.”

I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know that wouldn’t go too well. I let out a sigh and say, “Fine. Tell him I’ll come for a personal visit the day after the Trials. He loves attention like that.”

I don’t wait for my uncle’s reaction. I just throw myself back on my stomach, planning on going back to my initial plan, trying to sleep off my hangover.

To my surprise, uncle doesn’t leave. My face pressed against the pillow, I frown.

“Andreas,” I hear him say in a low yet tense voice, “I know what an Olarel girl can do to a man…”

That makes my ears prick up. I push myself back into a seated position and I stare straight into my uncle’s eyes, frowning.

“But you could have any woman you want,” he continues, stressing each word individually. “Why do you choose to degrade yourself like this, for her?”

What the fuck? How does he even know?

I guess it’s the confusion on my face that prompts him to let out a laugh and say, “What, you think your uncle has no eyes? First those articles, then that incident at the Ball, then wasting your time on those little training sessions of yours…”

I feel myself start to fume. “It’s not up to you to determine what constitutes a waste of my time, uncle,” I snap at him.

Uncle just blinks at me. “I rest my case,” he says. Then he comes closer, so close he’s towering over me. When he speaks again, it’s in a low, tense voice. “I took you in when you were five years old, boy, and I’ve been raising you ever since. So you should listen really carefully when I say…”

He pauses to raise a finger at me. “That girl will only ever bring you trouble.”

For a second, I just look at him. “You’re in luck then,” I say bitterly, “because I’ve nothing to do with her anymore.”

He gives it a think and then nods. “Good,” he replies, his voice turning softer. “I’ll come see you off tomorrow, but remember, if you want to come out a winner, you need to do exactly as I told you.” He motions to my nightstand, where just yesterday he left me the vial with the ‘special blood,’ as he called it. “Understood?” he demands.

I never thought my uncle would urge me to take some kind of vampire equivalent of steroids, but I guess he’s just that scared for my life. “Understood,” I finally echo him, hoping to make him stop mothering me. I need to go back to sleep and not thinking about things.

And he stares at me for a moment longer, but then he just taps his walking stick on the floor and disappears.

Once he’s gone, I just sit in my bed for a moment, my mind buzzing again. Great, I think to myself as I get up, now it’s going to be impossible to get back to sleep. I’ve only just managed to get her out of my head and now he’s put her back in.

I pace around the room, trying to shake it all off, but it’s not working. Before it all happened, the Second Round and all that, there were things brewing under the surface. She was looking at me differently and it was making me feel this...

But then it happened and it all turned to shit. I was so full of anger at whoever did that to her that it didn’t occur to me right away.

That her kicking me out of her room meant that she thought it was me. That she’d seriously think I’d try to fucking murder her.

I stop to look out the window. I haven’t gone out much since it happened. Just a meeting now and then, mostly with the spies I hired to find out who did it. The rest of the time I spent in my quarters, coming up with the most painful ways to kill someone. It was comforting for a while, imagining being able to hurt the fucker who did it to her.

Now, the only thing comforting me is that the day will soon be over, the late afternoon sunlight slowly getting swallowed by darkness.

And just as I turn to go back to bed, I imagine that I’ve caught a whiff of her scent. Perfect, I think as I grit my teeth, furious at myself for still allowing her so much space in my head.

But then I hear a quick knock at my door and I see Max stick his head in, saying, “Longborn was here, asking if I knew where to find you.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, I ask, “What did you tell her?”

He frowns a little. “Nothing, of course.”

Despite my mind telling me it’s a seriously bad idea, I hear myself say, “Go get her.”

He just looks at me for a second, nods and leaves. I rush to the mirror, my heart racing. My reflection shows a stubble and dark circles around my eyes that I can do nothing about right now. But at least I can put on some pants and smooth out my hair a little.

When I walk out of my bedroom and into the living room, she’s already there, standing near the doorway and looking at me with a funny look in her eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go,” she says in a hushed voice.

It does things to me. My heart tightens in my chest and I move towards her. Despite all the anger that I’m feeling, all I want is to fix things for her.

But once I’m in front of her, she takes a cautious step back.

My heart breaks and almost instantly, all the anger comes rushing back. To hide the whirlwind of emotion, I walk up to the bar and pour myself a drink.

“Your only option was the man who tried to kill you? Must be serious,” I say and I down my whiskey, slamming the empty glass back onto the bar.

“Actually,” she starts, flat-out ignoring my stabs. “That’s something I need to apologize for. I know it wasn’t you.”

That surprises me, but I choose not to show it. I lean on the bar behind me, fold my arms and ask, “Really?” I’m barely managing to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I don’t care. “Warms my heart to hear you say it.”

She lets out an exasperated breath, her hands balling into fists in that incredibly annoying way of hers. “In my defense, what else was I supposed to think? First of all, the person who attacked me did use mind magic on me…”

“Just like I did,” I cut her off, my voice shaky with anger. I appear right in front of her, making her lips part and an almost inaudible gasp escape them. “Do you know the things I’ve done for you?”

“Oh, I know all about the chocolates,” she starts, waving her hands and raising her voice a little. “What, you thought I’d never figure it out?”

“Things to keep you safe, goddamn it.”

“And now I know you’re telling the truth.”

I get even closer, so close, I can only see her face. “It’s too fucking late,” I growl through gritted teeth. She’s looking up at me in silence, those big brown eyes casting their usual spell. I want to make her stop with all this nonsense so I can plant an angry kiss on her lips, slam her against the wall and eat her out.

But I know better. “One second, Quinn,” I whisper. “I lose control for one second and I fall all over myself to make up for it and you still end up thinking I’d try to fucking murder you? Is that really what you think of me?”

The very thought makes me want to rip my own heart out.

“No,” she starts, a sorry look in her eyes. “Look, we don’t have time for that right now.”

“I see,” I say in the flattest voice that I can muster, and I move to turn so I don’t have to look at her.

“Faust,” she rushes to say as she walks around to face me. “I didn’t just realize it wasn’t you who tried to kill me. I found out who it really was.”

I just look at her for a second. “Tell me,” I command, already fuming.

“I need you to stay calm.”

“Calm?” I growl at her, my entire body vibrating with rage. “I am calm,” I squeeze out as my mind floods with images of throats being ripped out. “Now spit it the fuck out.”

“Alright,” she says, but she looks even more hesitant than before. “Moswen showed me one of her memories, where I heard, well, the killer, talk about his plans just before the bloodshed happened. And when he came to kill me, I couldn’t see his face properly, but what I could see was the sigil embroidered onto his shirt.” She pauses, throwing me a funny look before she adds, “The Ouroboros.”

Her words make me frown and pull away a little. “You’re saying it’s my uncle?”

She doesn’t answer, she just presses her lips tight.

“You can’t be serious,” I say with a scoff.

She looks away for a second. “I think it’s perfectly normal for you to have a hard time accepting it…”

“Hard time accepting it?” I mutter, not believing the words that are coming out of her mouth. “Tell me,” I start, forcing myself to snap out of it, “is that all you’re basing these grave, grave accusations on? Some dead girl’s memory and stitching on a shirt?”

She draws in a breath and says, “Your uncle seems to want power, Faust. The Stone, as it turns out, amplifies mind magic so much, you could use it to control an entire country.” She throws me a look filled with pity. “And he is out to get it.”

I throw my hands up and take a few steps back, letting out a bitter laugh. “Are you even listening to yourself?” I demand. “If my uncle wanted the Stone, why didn’t he just steal it the first chance he got? Why would he wait for the Trials?”

“Because it cannot be stolen, it can only be won,” she rushes to say. “So instead of stealing it, he made the donation to have it brought out for the Third Round.” She gets a little closer to me and looks at me with pleading eyes. “Faust, listen to me. Literally everyone will be at the Trials tomorrow. If your uncle’s plan backfires, there’ll be a bloodbath. And if he goes through with it, he’ll put us all under his control. But that’s where you come in. If you only stop him from attending…”

I just stare at her in silence. It feels as if my heart is shattering into a million tiny pieces. But it’s no wonder really. After all, she has been toying with it ever since I first laid eyes on her. I turn my back to her and I say, “My uncle was right. You only ever bring trouble.”

She stays silent for a second. “I knew you wouldn’t want to help.”

“Not another word.” I don’t turn to look at her. I wouldn’t be able to bear it. “Leave, now.”

For a second, there’s silence. Then I hear her leave the room and close the door behind her.

Once I find myself alone again, I find my phone and I text uncle to give the Archduke the green light. And then, unable to contain myself any longer, I walk up to the bar, I grab the first bottle I see and I smash it against the floor. It doesn’t really help, but I smash another. And another. And if I could, I’d set the world on fire, I’d take a seat and I’d watch it all burn to the ground.

Chapter 40 - Quinn

Ilet myself be led out of the Elevator and through a hallway opening up onto the ring, for the third and hopefully last time ever. As we walk, we’re greeted by an instant and violent flash of cameras. I throw a glance at the other Chosen. There’s only seven of us left. Sarya, Harry, Zelda, Leo, Amra, Faust and myself. Their faces are pale and their bodies stiff.

The journalists lining the walls all swarm around me, pointing their microphones at my face as they shout out their questions. They want to know whether the thing I did last time was real and which tricks I have up my sleeve for this round. My eyes automatically dart in his direction, but Faust doesn’t step in to save me from their greedy grip.

And I know why. He’s still pissed at me, more pissed than ever. So he just throws me a glance and keeps leading the rest of the Chosen out into the Arena. It makes me feel sad and murderous all at once.

Letting out a sigh, I elbow and curse my way through the vultures and rush to catch up with the others.

We walk through a huge double door and the enormous space of the ring opens up before us. The crowd cheers more than ever and I see that the screens aren’t just showing our faces. The cameras are turning their spying eyes onto the audience as well.

As we come to a stop somewhere around the middle of the stretch of beaten earth, I watch with bated breath as they show some of the fiercest and most famous Originals of our time. The leaders of all three noble Houses. The alphas of the independent shifter packs.

And yes, even the Keeper, I think to myself as I squint at the booth right next to the Pied Piper’s. So far, I’ve only seen her in pictures, the blonde, fae-blooded Nikky. And right now, in the midst of all the buzzing anticipation, she’s smiling as her equally gorgeous shifter mate is whispering something in her ear. But I’ve read things about her and I know she’s just as dangerous and passionate as she is beautiful.

She reminds me of what I’ve come here to do. Not to participate in some outdated form of the eternal search of glory, but to try to save all these people from getting killed today.

What snaps me out of my ruminations are the looks that the Chosen are throwing each other. It’s only then that I realize that the Trials should’ve started already.

And just as my eyes dart to the Pied Piper’s booth and see that it’s still empty, Baldor Faust himself rushes in and takes her seat.

I cannot fucking believe it.

“Welcome, everyone,” his voice booms from the speaker, “to the Third Round of the annual Grimm Academy Trials.”

The crowd cheers loudly and Faust Senior raises a hand to ask for silence.

“The Pied Piper won’t be with us today, but not to worry,” he exclaims. “Our Chosen are all here and ready to fight for the title of Champion!”

I’m barely registering the crowd’s response. My mind is elsewhere, wondering why the fuck the Pied Piper’s not here and what it could mean for me, what it could mean for us all. Is she out there somewhere helping him execute his plan?

“But before I tell you what the Third Round will entail,” Faust Senior continues, “let’s first greet all of today’s special guests, starting with the Archduke of Erfurt.”

I roll my eyes, tapping my shoes on the floor. As he drones on, I fight the urge to glance at Faust. He’s made his choice and though I can’t say I can blame him, I can’t count on him either.

It’s only when Faust Senior has finished sucking up to all the esteemed guests that I make myself snap out of it.

“Now,” he says teasingly. He seems to have slowly gotten into his new role as the announcer. “You’re probably all eager to find out what kind of test we’ll be putting our seven heroes to.”

The crowd responds by breaking into thunderous cheering and clapping. It’s deafening, but as soon as I notice the other thing, my focus becomes undivided.

I fix my eyes on the ground before me, feeling it tremble under my feet and hearing a low, pained sound.

And just as the seven of us start throwing glances at each other, the ground cracks and moves, revealing a set of stairs leading down into the darkness.

The crowd murmurs in excitement. My heart breaking into a gallop, I squint and I look up at Faust Senior, waiting for an explanation.

“Wondering where they lead?” he asks the crowd, his voice low and full of suspense.

Um, not more than I am.

But he only pauses for a split second before he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “Only to the very Heart of The Castle That Isn’t…”

The crowd murmurs. I throw a glance at Harry, mouthing “What?”

But before he can do anything but raise his eyebrows, Faust Senior keeps talking, “Yes, you seem to know what I’m talking about. The usually entirely inaccessible part of Grimm Academy, its ancient core that to this day holds secrets of divine magic.” He pauses before he adds, lowering his voice, “Magic so dangerous, the Pied Piper had to get a team of professors to prepare the extremely inhospitable terrain.”

Great, I think to myself, my palms already sweating.

“As for our Chosen,” Faust Senior continues in a low voice, “they only need to climb down, get to the farthest point, grab the Stone that’s waiting for them there and come back to us.”

That’s all? No biggie, I tell myself in my most sarcastic inner voice.

But then a gong sounds and I find myself walking up to the stairs with the rest of the Chosen. Once we’re right in front of the opening, Faust Senior yells out, “Let the Third Round begin.”

And just like that, accompanied by yet another round of deafening cheering, the others start rushing down into the darkness.

I, on the other hand, choose caution. I take one step at a time, inspecting things as I go. But there’s only raw earth around me, the stairs seeming to have been carved into the ground using only Earth Magic.

Still, the deeper I go and the fainter the sound of cheering becomes, the more my heart throbs in my chest.

By the time my feet hit the landing, I’m all alone in near darkness and I can no longer hear the people outside.

At first, there’s only silence. But only for a second, until I start noticing all the sounds. The flowing, the rustling, the pounding.

With bated breath and eyes open as wide as humanly possible, I take a few more steps and realize I’ve found myself in a sort of cave. But instead of being carved into stone, it’s a tangle of roots, branches swinging off the ceiling above me.

I move carefully, glancing left and right before every step I take. I look around and see another opening, darkness lurking behind it. It’s the only way ahead and the others must have taken it as well.

And my intention is to keep walking carefully, but the energy of the place makes me rush.

Once I’m nearly through the opening, I feel something tugging at my ankle, making my heart skip a beat.

I look down to see one of the roots has wrapped itself around my leg. And it’s moving fast, already climbing up my thigh.

I lunge forward, trying to pull my leg out, but it doesn’t budge. Quickly, I tap my Element Rune and have the roots get sucked back into the ground. I don’t hesitate. I run out of the place, throwing one last look back to see a gazillion other roots shooting into the air after me.

But as soon as I take a few more steps away from them, they go still and then get sucked back just like the first one.

Leaning forward and resting my palms on my thighs, I let out a shuddering breath. And just as my heartbeat goes back to normal, I hear a scream from somewhere behind me. A woman.

Blood curdles in my veins. Is it Sarya or Zelda or Amra or someone else entirely? I straighten up, turn on my heel and squint ahead, my ears pricked up. The space I’m in right now is a wide, dark tunnel carved into the ground. And it’s a winding one so I can’t actually see where it’s going.

Hesitantly, I start walking down and straight at the source of that scream. What other choice do I have, I think to myself as I keep my hand raised to my Runes. Just in case.

But just as I see light somewhere in front of me, I hear it again. The same voice screaming, only more drawn out. I stop, my ears straining.

A part of me wants to turn around and run away, but if I want to save everyone from dying horrible deaths, I absolutely have to keep moving forward. So I force myself to pick up the pace, walking straight towards the blood-curdling sound.

As I make my way down the seemingly never ending tunnel, I try to drown out her screaming by humming things to myself. It won’t help, me being scared out of my wits before I even lay eyes on her.

As I walk out of the tunnel, the light almost blinds me, making me raise my hand over my eyes. I’m squinting and I can’t see her yet, but I can hear her loud and clear. “Please,” she’s sobbing.

I recognize Amra’s voice. “Wait there,” I yell out, “I’m coming to you.”

I hear a crack and a thud and the sob turns into yet another scream.

My eyes finally get adjusted to the light, I lower my hand and I see exactly why it’s so blinding. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s reflecting off the countless walls of crystals all around me. And right in front of me, suspended in the air, I see Amra. Except for her head and one hand, she seems to be completely encased in one of the crystals.

I rush to her. Obviously struggling to break out, she looks at me with pleading eyes. “Help me,” she says and looks at the floor below her, where I see a piece of crystal with her hand in it.

Her fucking hand.

That was the crack I heard.

My hand darts to my mouth and I’m glad of it, because I don’t want to make her panic even more. I quickly tap the Element Rune, hoping to get the crystals off her, but it doesn’t work.

“Stay calm,” I mutter as I come closer to inspect things. I’ve never seen anything like this stone and my Sight tells me it’s not the kind of material I could manipulate.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? And just as I think that, she lets out another scream and the crystal that’s got her trapped cracks along the middle.

I panic. I tap my Element rune, even though I know it won’t work.

For a second, I think I see the crystal shrink.

Amra goes quiet and it makes me hold my breath in.

Then, just like that, I see the lower half of her just fall to the ground, her eyes rolling back in their sockets.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, I think to myself as I sit down with a loud thump. Maybe I just want to make sure it’s real, what happened, so I grab her free hand, now lying there on the floor next to me. I pull my knees to my chest and I just sit like that, rocking back and forth. Her hand remains dead in mine. We’re going to die, that’s all I can think, we’re all going to die.

Then it happens. The crystals still encasing Amra’s hand start coming to life and creeping up my own skin. They’re threatening to swallow me as well.

I jump off the ground and try to shake them off, fighting not to let panic overtake me. If I can’t control them, there’s only one thing I can do. I can try to shrink them.

And I still only have my Element rune activated, but this is a matter of fucking life and death, I think to myself, gritting my teeth as I stare at the crystals.

Nothing seems to be happening.

And they’ve already reached my fucking elbow. Fuck.

I strain my eyes even more and I see them shrink.

It almost makes me cry with relief when I see them disappear.

I don’t hesitate. I rush straight for the next opening, only throwing a glance at my runes to see that I really did just activate the third one. The Growth rune.

But she’s dead, Amra has just died, the thought echoes through my mind. It all feels so unreal, but I have to keep going, keep going until I can’t keep going any longer, otherwise…

Otherwise who knows what will happen, but it sure ain’t going to be pretty.

So I make my way through the next opening. What’s waiting for me on the other side looks like a regular cave. I walk through it and I find myself in another one.

I keep walking through cave after cave for what seems like an eternity. Every now and then, I hear blasts, yelling, sometimes even more screaming.

When once again I walk out of a cave only to find myself at the entrance of a seemingly identical one, I stop to come up with a plan.

Because I really need to speed this up. The more time I lose, the more time Baldor and the Pied Piper have to get the Stone.

So I take a closer look around. I’m breathing heavily, my mind buzzing as I look for clues on what the hell is going on.

Why can’t I get out of this fucking place?

I invoke the Sight, but it doesn’t show anything I haven’t already seen.

I let out a frustrated groan and stomp my foot on the ground.

It’s then that it occurs to me. I look down.

I look down and I see a trail on the ground. Tiny footsteps.

Drawing in an excited breath, I rush to follow them.

They start leading me down a series of tunnels, twisting and turning. And there’s something strange about them. I feel them as if they’re living and breathing things. Or a single living and breathing thing.

I stop and prick my ears up. And sure enough, the sound isn’t crackling, but pattering. But it’s still her.

“I’ll start thinking you have a thing for me,” I say, “Dame Gothel.”

Her chuckle sounds as if the earth itself has produced it. “Don’t flatter yourself, little one,” she says as she makes the ground before me move, rise and form an enormous woman made of clay and twigs and moss.

The woman, Dame Gothel, looks down on me from high above and almost whispers, “I have a soft spot for all orphans. Always have and always will. Especially the ones with a lot of fire in them.”

It makes me frown for a second, because it brings Hansel and Gretel to mind, when Dame Gothel is the witch from Rapunzel. Or could there be more than one story told about her? It sends shivers down my spine, but I’ve more important things to think about. “If that’s really the case, will you help me find my way?”

Dame Gothel smiles, goes back to her incorporeal form and whispers, “What else am I here for? Just follow my footsteps and you’ll get out of here soon.”

“But this place seems to be huge. Do you know where I’ll find the Stone?”

“Where will she find the Stone?” She laughs so hard, it makes me a little sore. “Do I need to spell everything out for you, little one? It’s a fairy tale stone, for crying out loud.”

With that, I sense her disappear.

And the very next second, I hear more screaming. Shit, I’ve been dragging my feet, I curse myself as I keep running where the tiny footsteps are leading me.

After only a couple of more turns, I barge onto an enormous clearing with seemingly no ceiling at all. Sprawled in front of me, I see what seem to be the ruins of some ancient castle. The air is heavy with mist and that mist feels so strange that I don’t even register the movement until it’s already happening.

A dark specter lunging straight at me. It grabs my waist and yanks me away from the ground, making me let out a muffled scream.

With my body in its firm grip, the specter starts circling the air high above the ruins below. I see towers, a throne room, houses and streets around the castle. I try to break free, planning to use Air Magic to help myself back to the ground. But the specter's grip is so strong, I can’t even break my hand free to use my runes.

Just as I wonder what the fuck this thing plans on doing to me, I notice where it’s taking me. To a nest atop an old tower, filled with bones of other creatures it’s killed.

My heart swelling in my chest and leaving me breathless, I start thrashing like never before in my life. I thrash and thrash, but it’s not helping. And just as I’m about to be lowered into the nest, I see a shadow, as quick as lightning, dart through the air in front of me.

It takes a swing at the specter holding me, making it let out an ear-piercing screech and start flying away from the tower in a desperate attempt to save itself.

The next thing I know, I’m falling to the ground, trying to tap my Element Rune so as to avoid breaking all the bones in my body.

And I manage to do it, at least for the most part. When I push myself off the ground, panting and trying to stop myself from letting out a pained moan, I realize I’ve only broken a couple of ribs.

I quickly look around. The specter is nowhere to be seen and it seems to have dropped me onto one of the streets far from the castle.

To my surprise, the very next moment, I see Faust landing on the ground before me. He’s hurt, blood drenching his torn-up shirt.

I let out a quiet gasp and I move to get closer to him, but he just gives me a once-over and disappears.

And of course, I’m relieved that I’m still alive. But there’s also a part of me that’s scared that he’s dying and another part that’s pissed that he’s had to save me.

But to be honest, I’ve no time for feelings. I dust myself off and I go after him, pain making me wince with every breath of air I take. I can’t be sure where he’s disappeared to, but it seemed to me that he went straight for the heart of the castle.

And when you think about it, isn’t that where a fairy tale stone should be hidden?

Holding my hand to my bruised chest, I start down the deserted streets leading in that direction. As I make my way, I keep looking out for another one of those specters, but I neither see nor hear any.

To my misfortune, I do see bones.

Bones all around me. Animal bones. Human bones.

It makes shivers run up my spine, but I’ve no choice. I have to keep going.

It’s only when I enter the castle grounds, crumbling walls shooting into the sky around me, that I see them.

Zelda and Leo.

Lying on the ground, their bodies mutilated by what would have to be either a shifter or a ginormous fucking animal.

For a second, I just stare at them, my chest heaving and my breathing erratic. With the corner of my eye, I spot Sarya and Harry, both covered in wounds, disappearing down some kind of cellar to my left.

I fight not to look at Zelda and Leo again. It won’t do me any good, to stare into their dead eyes. But I still do. I walk up to them and just keep standing there, fighting the onset of a panic attack. To think that I used to think that this guy lying in front of me was behind all this…

Then I hear it. The snarl.

My head snaps in the direction of the sound and I see a huge armored lion stalking straight at me.

My heart racing, I tap my Element rune, but it only makes the earth below me tremble a little.

The lion leaps and swings a paw at me.

All of a sudden, I’m on the ground, my arm all bloody and a lion growling at me.

I use my Element rune again and I send him flying back.

He falls to the ground a ways off, but quickly gets back on all fours.

Adrenaline flooding my body, I yell out as I tap my rune and make the Earth swallow him whole.

Once I see him get sucked in, I let out a breath I seem to have been holding. Now panting, I push myself off the ground and I keep moving. For a second, I consider going after Harry and Sarya, but underground? I don’t think that’s where the Stone would be, so I choose to keep following Faust.

Soon, I start finding trails of fresh blood and dead armored animals all over the place. In an inner courtyard, in a reception room, in a kitchen.

It’s only once I get to the throne room that I see him again. Faust, standing in front of the massive stone throne and next to an even bigger armored bear.

The bear is all bloody and so is Faust. He’s swaying on his feet and has one hand pressed to his chest.

Suddenly panicking, I run to him.

And holy shit. He’s so wounded, I’m amazed that he’s even standing.

I reach out my hand, but seemingly not even recognizing me, he just slaps it away. “Let me be,” he mutters, takes something out of his pocket, a vial, and downs its contents.

But it’s only when he turns around, however shakily, and starts walking straight to a pillar in front of the throne behind him, that it hits me.

I let out an actual gasp and open my mouth to tell him, but there it is. Resting on the surface of the pillar. Glowing. The Stone.

And Faust is already reaching for it.

“Don’t,” I yell out.

Slowly, he turns to look at me. “Why not?” he squeezes out, his voice pained.

“It’s exactly what your uncle wants you to do,” I blurt out. “I don’t know why I ever thought he’d come win the Stone himself,” I say with a shake of my head, “when he can just send you.”

He just blinks at me and then lets out a weak, pained laugh.

“Did he give it to you,” I insist, “what you just drank? You know what it is? The remains of all the Blood Rituals. The only way for you to unlock the power of the Stone.”

This time, he squints at me angrily. “You’re really something, you know that?”

He doesn’t let me answer. He turns back to the Stone. Before I can do anything, he’s already grabbed it and I know that it’s too late when I see his body start to emit that same glow and I hear a chuckle sound behind my back.

Chapter 41 - Quinn

Iturn around and see Baldor Faust strolling up to us, smiling and tapping his walking stick on the ground.

“Uncle,” I hear Faust mutter.

My eyes fixed on Baldor, I want to tell his nephew ‘I told you so,’ but I know better than that, I remind myself.

The uncle closes the remaining distance between them. “Andreas, you’ve been amazing. But what I want you to do now is take the Stone with you,” he says as he points at a door behind the throne, “walk out into the Arena and make everyone bow to you.”

“Why are you doing this?” his nephew asks, looking as if he’s been struck by lightning.

I just stand there. What I really want is to attack, but I owe it to Faust to let him try to deal with his only remaining family by himself.

Baldor lets out a chuckle and says, “You know the answer to that question, nephew.” He starts pacing up and down, one hand on his back and the other on his stick. “The balance of our world is hanging by a thread. Imagine being able to fix everything. That’s what the Stone allows.”

“Is that why you didn’t care about the Archduke’s proposal?” Faust asks in an accusing voice. “You had bigger fish to fry, didn’t you?”

“Think what you will,” Baldor says. “The first time I tried to get the Stone, it rejected me,” he adds as he looks down at his injured left side. “But it didn’t reject you. And each in his own way, you and I are special. If we put our minds and hands together, we could make the world a much better place.”

My eyes dart to Faust. With bated breath, I watch the struggle on his face. “Maybe if I made it temporary, just long enough to—”

And just like that, I can’t take it anymore. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell out, making both men turn to look at me.

“Longborn,” Faust starts.

But his uncle cuts him off, looking pissed. “Andreas, compel her or I will do it for you.”

“What kind of monster are you?” I demand.

“What did you call me?” Baldor hisses as he appears right in front of me. “Would a monster delay getting rid of you for as long as I have?”

I open my mouth, but I don’t manage to say anything.

I see Faust lunge at his uncle and get in his face. “So you admit it?” he snarls at him. “That you went and tried to kill her?”

Baldor doesn’t say anything. He just raises one hand and I see Faust’s entire body tense up, his face taking on a pained expression. “Stop it,” he yells at his uncle, but he makes him take a step back and just keep standing there.

I snap. Quickly, I tap the Element Rune and send rocks flying straight at him.

He just dodges them and looks deep into my eyes, raising his left hand at me while his right is still busy trying to control his nephew.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” I hear Faust growl at him.

I try to stop it, but Baldor manages to assert his control over me, making me freeze in place.

He turns to his nephew. “Now go out and make them bow to you,” he commands.

I myself can’t move an inch, but I see Faust struggling not to listen. “Uncle, I’m warning you. If you don’t stop, I’m going to use the Stone against you.”

Baldor just shakes his head. “I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to. I put a drop of my own blood in the mixture I gave you. A failsafe of sorts, in case you chose… not to cooperate.” He pauses for a second before he adds, “Now stop resisting and get out there. The people won’t be waiting forever.”

For what seems like an eternity, Faust keeps struggling, the veins on his face bulging, but then he lets out an exasperated breath and moves for the door behind the throne, stiffly and without a word.

“Good boy,” his uncle says as he follows him.

Once again, I try to move and I fail miserably. It’s over, I think to myself as I watch them leave without being able to do anything to stop them. And they manage to go through the door, which seems to lead straight back into the ring, and all of a sudden, I find myself alone, my mind racing and my heart pounding.

I hear the crowd cheer and start preparing for the worst.

But the more he controls his nephew, the weaker Baldor’s grip on me becomes.

As soon as I feel my body as my own again, I tear my feet off the ground and run after the two of them, through the door behind the throne and up the stairs leading onto the ring.

I barge outside, raising my hand in front of my face. After the darkness below, the light outside is blinding. As my eyes adjust to it, there’s only silence. I squint and I see everyone in the audience standing still with their heads bowed down.

Nuala, I spot Nuala among them.

I panic and my eyes dart to Faust, who’s standing to the other side of the stairs we’ve just climbed, his uncle by his side.

His uncle who’s spotted me and is now squinting in my direction, preparing to do something about it.

Without hesitation, I tap the Element Rune and send a wall of dense air flying straight into him.

He just dodges it and lands right in front of me, his nephew turning to me in one swift but awkward movement, his eyes filled with so many emotions, I can’t even begin untangling them.

“So you’re fine controlling everyone else, but not her?” his uncle spits out.

“Let him go,” I yell out as I shoot another, denser and angrier wall of air at him.

He dodges it, but pretends he didn’t hear me. He lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “Fine. I guess I’ll have to find another way to deal with her.”

All of a sudden, I get the urge look up. I see people from the audience staring at me as they get out of their seats and start making their way down the bleachers and into the ring, all of their movements perfectly synchronized.

I draw in a breath, taking a few quick steps back as my mind scrambles to find a way out of it.

But I don’t have time to think, because I see the Keeper walk into the Arena, throw one of her arms back and lunge at me with a ball of lightning in her hand.

Holy fuck. Breath held, I stumble backwards and I tap the Growth Rune, making the ball of lightning in the Keeper’s hand expand until it swallows her, sending a shock through her body that has her collapse to the ground.

I fall to my knees, air knocked out of my lungs. When I finally manage to catch my breath, I see the rest of the crowd start to walk over her body and keep coming for me.

I tap my Element Rune and make an air bubble around my entire body, stopping them from getting too close. It’s at that exact moment that I hear someone yell, “Make them snap out of it.”

I turn around and see the Pied Piper charging through the double door and into the ring, visible signs of fight on her dress. She’s making her way through the crowd by throwing merciless blows at everyone around her. Who was she talking to?

As the mind-controlled crowd keeps pushing at the barrier of my air bubble, I turn my eyes back onto Baldor. He doesn’t look fazed. His eyes sweeping over the chaos around us, he chuckles and makes his nephew send some of his creatures at de Groot. I want to help her, but maintaining my air bubble is quickly draining my energy.

Among those attacking the Pied Piper, I spot the only two remaining Vipers, Sarya shooting rocks at her and Harry shifting into the biggest grizzly I’ve ever seen.

I draw in a breath as I watch de Groot let them get closer. Once they do, she just slams them into the ground with a couple of blows of her hand. Fuck, she’s strong.

She’s on our side?

I watch the Keeper attack her by making the ground beneath her start crumbling.

De Groot jumps into the air, lands right in front of her and sends her flying to the ground.

It feels so fucking good to know that she’s on my side. I turn back to Baldor and decide to grit my teeth, stop wasting my energy just defending myself and take the opportunity to attack.

As soon as I let the air bubble burst, the people almost come crashing into me. I jump up, quickly tapping the Element Rune. I make the air below me dense so when I land on it, I remain hovering high above the ground. Looking down at Baldor, who now seems to be fighting the Keeper, I lift my hand to my Runes.

This time, I won’t be showing any restraint. I send a huge wall of earth flying straight at him.

He just dodges it and charges at me. With the corner of my eye, I see Faust standing in the middle of everything, his body vibrating with the effort to break free of his uncle’s magic.

Raging inside, I turn back to Baldor and raise my hands to send another wall of earth at the old prick’s chest.

To my surprise, that’s not what ends up happening. Instead, I knock him over with an angry ball of fire shooting out of my palms.

My Air Magic failing me, I fall down to the ground, making the people below me disperse. What the fuck just happened? Since when can I use Fire?

I quickly push myself up. When I look at him, I see Baldor lying on the ground, heavily burned and panting. But when his eyes meet mine, they don’t linger there. They dart to something behind me.

The next thing I know, a knife gets stabbed into my back, right above my heart, and I let out a pained scream and come crashing to the ground.

As I lie there, I watch Baldor dodge attack after attack. And the people that keep charging at him are the ones whose asses de Groot kicked when she arrived.

Then it hits me. When she said to make them snap out of it, it was me she was talking to.

My eyes dart to Faust, who’s still under his uncle’s spell. And there’s the Vipers, the Keeper and the Pied Piper trying to take down Baldor, but there’s still so many of those that are under the prince’s control and things are getting out of hand, people yelling and attacking each other all around me.

One of them being Nuala. I see her getting beaten up and I rush to her, knocking over both her and her attacker with a wall of air. As soon as I do it, I see them snap out of it, my friend pushing herself off the ground to give me a quick hug.

So there really is only one way to do this. “We’ve no time to waste,” I tell Nuala. “We need to make everyone snap out of it.”

She nods and as I turn to look around, to see exactly how to go about it, I notice her dig through her pocket and pop something in her mouth. I frown at her, but she just says, “I’ll have your back.”

Quickly, because Baldor is sending more people in my direction, I tap the Element Rune and squeeze my eyes shut, making the earth below me tremble.

And it’s all terribly loud, but nothing really happens. People just keep attacking each other.

Just as I let out a frustrated groan, I hear someone charge at me from behind and I turn to defend myself, when I see my friend shift, right before my own two eyes, into the biggest, most beautiful white tiger I have ever seen.

The tiger knocks the attacker out cold, stalks back to me and, well, gives my face a thorough lick before she turns back and goes to run after Harry’s grizzly.

The next thing I know, I hear Faust groaning from exertion. My eyes snap in the direction of the sound and I see him standing in the middle of it all, blood running down his eyes from all the effort he has to put into fighting his uncle.

I feel hot rage coursing through my body. What’s enough is enough, I think to myself, I shut my eyes and I tap the Element Rune.

Once I open them, I see fire swallowing the bleachers all around us and drawing everyone into the center of the ring.

Within a minute, all that wood and metal comes crashing to the ground.

I drop to my knees, the sudden silence around me thundering. I see people snapping out of it and Baldor trying to get up off the ground.

My eyes dart to his nephew, who seems to be regaining his control as well, fire burning in his eyes.

The next thing I know, he’s grabbing his uncle by the neck, lifting him up off the ground.

He growls, “I’m going to kill you with my own two hands.”

And as the rest of the crowd watches in silence, he tightens his grip, making his uncle’s face start turning purple.

“Andreas,” he squeezes out, “you know this is right. Just yesterday, you told me to give the Archduke the green light—”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Faust snaps at him, his body vibrating with rage, “that family and duty are just excuses to you for your own ambition. I’m going to enjoy watching the light go out of your eyes.”

“Don’t you dare, boy,” Baldor snarls back, “if you lose me, you lose everything, family and position, and you know it.”

“I’ve never cared about position and I no longer have a family,” Faust growls, “but at least I’ll have peace of mind knowing I chose to do the right thing.” And with that, he starts tightening the grip.

I push myself off the ground and run to him. “No,” I command, “don’t.”

He turns to look at me. “He tried to kill you, Quinn.”

There’s such pain in his eyes, it makes me go silent for a second.

“I know, but trust me, Andreas,” I finally tell him.

He loosens his grip and lets his uncle’s body fall to the ground. I hear rushed footsteps and angry yelling as the Pied Piper takes control of Baldor, but my eyes are still fixed on his nephew’s. I reach out my hand, but he just turns on his heel and walks away, dropping the Stone onto the bloody ground below.

Chapter 42 - Quinn

We’re sitting in my room, drinking in preparation for the Grand Ball. Nuala is giddy with excitement and I’m wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever had the chance to wear, about to be paraded around as one of the two Champions of this year’s Trials.

But how can I feel good about any of it when it’s only been two weeks since it all happened? They’ve treated the wound that was apparently about to kill me, but I’ve still got cuts and bruises all over my legs and arms. I’m thrilled for my friend being freshly in love with Harry, but that also means I’ll be attending the Ball by myself, again. And it’s not like I won’t be drawing attention.

Now that everyone knows who my parents were and what happened to them that year when Baldor Faust first tried to get his hands on the Stone, I’m even more popular with the press. It doesn’t help that both the Pied Piper and the Keeper have taken a special interest in me, trying to teach me to improve my magic. Apparently, Creators, that is, faes that can create things out of nothing, not just manipulate the world around them, are hard to come by. And that makes me proud, sure, but it also makes me terrified.

But what’s worst of all is that I still can’t stop thinking about him. I wonder if he’s going to come to the Ball at all. He should. If nothing else, to allow them to crown us as winners.

That’s what princes do, right? Show up for stuff like that even if they don’t feel like it? Even if their entire world has just crumbled to the ground?

“Quinn?” my friend calls out, snapping me out of my ruminations and making me look at her. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I’m sure it goes against your promise.”

Ah. My promise to have fun tonight, yes. I give her a weak smile. “Nuala,” I start in a low voice, “do you think I should talk to her after all?”

“I support you whatever you decide,” she replies with determination in her eyes.

I let out a chuckle. “I know, but what do you really think?”

“I think you should talk to her, yes,” she rushes to say. She’s obviously been wanting to. “She’s your sister, after all.”

I think for a second. “Would you mind leaving the two of us alone then?”

“Of course,” she says with a warm smile.

“You’re the best friend a girl could ever have.”

“And you’re the sappiest.”

We stick our tongues out at each other and she leaves my room, closing the door behind her.

Letting out a sigh, I grab the diary off the bed and I crack it open.

“Just so you know,” I say as soon as Moswen appears, “there was no bloodbath and we all made it out alive, no thanks to you.”

She just looks at me for a second. “I guess I deserve that. But once again, Quinn, if you knew how very sorry I am… About all of it…”

“You don’t get it,” I insist, pressing my lips tight, “how much I just can’t believe you’d rob me of that. Knowing that we’re family, getting to know you, asking you questions...”

“Sometimes people do stupid things,” she cuts me off, her voice heavy with remorse and sadness, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t care. I know it wasn’t the case with me. But listen…”

“Yes?” I demand, noticing her becoming anxious.

“The magic keeping me here,” she rushes to say.

But I cut her off. “It’s waning.”

“It is,” she nods. “I don’t think we have much time. So listen, Quinn,” she says as she crouches before me and looks deep into my eyes. “You had two parents who loved you more than anything.”

I feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Your father loved reading to you and your mother never went for a walk without you. He was the grumpy one, stubborn and focused on his studies, while she was the ray of sunshine, relaxed and always up for a little mischief.”

I wave my hand, trying to stop myself from crying. “Thank you, but I want to know more about you.”

I choke on my words because it’s at that exact moment that I see her becoming fainter. I reach out my hand and I open my mouth, but she stops me.

“It’s alright, Quinn,” she says with a sad smile. “None of it really matters. You’re my little sister and my soul will always know yours.”

And with that, she disappears. For a second, I remain sitting there, frozen in place. Then a gush of tears bursts out of me, shaking me to my very core.

I’ve lived through it all and for what? To lose a sister I’ve only just found? To cause him to lose the only family he’d ever had? And I know that none of it is my fault, but it still feels that way.

I force myself to stop crying and I look at the clock on the wall across from me. The Ball should be starting any minute now, but I don’t know if I want to go.

And I don’t think I will.

At least not until I’ve had one thing taken care of.

So I get up off the bed and leave my room, heading straight for the Lilith Tower.

And sure, he’s there. When I ask for him in the foyer of his private fucking quarters, I hear his voice from the other side of the wall saying, “Let her in.”

I take a deep breath and barge into his living room, where I last found myself when I came to ask him to let me join the Vipers.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back turned to me. His left arm is thrown over the backrest. “Come to fuck up my life some more?” he asks, his voice strangely flat as his eyes stay fixed ahead.

“I’m not here to ask favors,” I say as I walk around the couch to face him. He’s clad in a gorgeous suit and has a glass of whiskey in his other hand.

He looks up and drags his eyes down my body. “Ah, I see,” he says and downs his drink, “you’ve come to rub more salt in my wound.” And with that, he gets up and looks away, walking up to the bar.

I follow him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I protest, suddenly fuming. “I’ve come to say I’m sorry about your uncle. You never gave me the chance.”

He stops and turns to face me. “I never thought you cared,” he snaps back, his voice a slab of ice.

“How can you say that?” I reply, frowning.

He groans and waves his hand in dismissal. “What’re you really here for?”

That makes me think for a second. “I guess I’d like us to stop being enemies. You know, move on.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Move on?” he says as he takes a few steps closer to me, his nostrils flaring and his voice brimming with tension. “I’m afraid that you and me moving on would be the end of me. But I’m sure you’d love that.”

“Really?” I ask, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth.

He gets in my face. “Really,” he snaps back.

I let out a frustrated groan. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” I say as I turn to walk away.

He appears in front of me, blocking my way out. “Not nearly as much as you are,” he growls in my face, so close, I can only see his eyes.

For a second, we just stare at each other, fuming. Then he grabs me by the waist and crushes his lips on mine. I throw my arms around his neck and he pulls me even closer, until I can feel all the hardness of his cock. He slides his tongue between my lips and starts dragging his hands all over my body, making a wave of pleasure come crashing down on me.

How dare he feel this good, I think as I pull away to look at him. His eyes glazed, he frowns and leans back in, demanding another kiss, but I bite his lower lip instead. He lets out a low growl and bites back. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, he makes me take a few wobbly steps backwards and slams me against the wall.

There, he starts fumbling to pull the fabric of my dress down and around my breasts. And just as I lift my hand to help him, he lets out a low groan, pulls away a little and tears the whole thing off with a single jerk.

It makes me let out a shuddering breath, when his eyes start dragging down my body. I let him look, his breathing becoming more erratic as he runs his hands all over my breasts, my stomach, my ass, until I can’t take it anymore.

Slick with desire for him, I let my hand dart to the zipper on his pants.

He blocks it, grabs my chin and makes me look him in the eyes. “Don’t tease,” he says in a low, thick voice.

“I’m not,” I say defiantly.

“What about that date?” he demands.

“Fuck the date.”

He just looks at me for a moment, tightens his grip on my waist and whispers, “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He leans closer, his lips touching my ear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time, Quinn. I’ve a long list of things I want to do to you.”

That makes me so hot, I just say, “Mmm.”

“Are you going to be a good girl and let me?”

“No,” I say and I pull away to look him in the eye.

“Quinn,” he growls, frowning.

It almost makes me laugh. I lean in to whisper, “You’ll have to make me.”

I feel him tense up. “Fuck,” he drawls, his breathing ragged as he tips his head back to look at me, burning holes in my eyes.

“Bite your lip,” he commands.

He fixes his eyes on my mouth and watches me do it.

“Harder,” he demands.

I bite into the skin, making a drop of blood wet it. He stares for a second, a savage look in his eyes. Then he crushes his lips on mine and shoves his tongue deep inside my mouth.

A vampire’s kiss.

Almost instantly, I feel a connection of the kind I’ve never experienced before. As if we’re one and the same, him and I. He’s kissing me and I feel exactly what the touch of my tongue does to him, how my smell drives him crazy, how his dick throbs whenever I squeeze the muscles of his shoulders. I feel his pleasure and I know he feels mine.

But it’s only when he pulls away that he puts me under his control, the tendrils of his mind wrapping around my entire body. Then he pulls away and takes a seat on the couch, his legs wide open and one arm thrown over the backrest.

For a second, he just soaks me up, naked and standing right in front of him. Then he motions at an easy chair to my right and says in a thick, commanding voice, “Sit over there and touch yourself.”

My body moves of its own accord. Throbbing in anticipation, I slowly get settled, spread my legs wide and start sliding my hand between my thighs. It gives me so much pleasure, the way he leans forward and fixes his eyes on me like a hawk.

It’s only when my fingers start brushing against my clit that I realize this is something else entirely. I let out a helpless moan. It’s my own hand, that I’m sure of, but the connection between us makes it feel like his. Like he’s the one using it.

Without breaking eye contact, he makes sure he’s got me wet enough, finds the right spot and pushes my fingers deep inside me, making me let out another moan. As soon as I do, he appears closer to me, his look even more intense and his breathing more ragged.

Slowly, he starts sliding my fingers in and out of my pussy, making my chest heave and my face blush.

And every time I let out a moan, he comes a little closer. This time, he gets on his knees in front of my pussy and leans over me, dragging his hands up and down my naked body. As he fucks me with my own fingers, he uses his thumb to stroke and knead my clit, just to drive me crazy.

Pretty soon, he has me panting and as wet as I can be, the anticipation of his touch almost making me whimper with desire.

But just as I’m about to come, he pulls both our hands away. I open my mouth to protest, but then he whispers in my ear, his breathing ragged. “Now bend over.”

I do as I’m told, getting up and turning to plant my knees and my palms onto the easy chair. “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he says as he walks up to me and starts running his hands up and down my body, squeezing and kneading as he goes, “you won’t be able to walk for days.”

“Yes, please,” I squeeze out, my own voice raspy and filled with desire.

I hear him unzip his pants and feel the hardness of his cock press against my ass. And all I want is to rub against it, but he doesn’t let me. He teases me with it, sliding it up and down my slick pussy.

When he finally pushes it in and starts slamming into me, it makes my eyes roll back in my head and a moan escape my lips. He keeps fucking me, harder and faster. And I want it even harder and faster, but he’s not allowing me any control of my own body, my ass remaining just where he’s planted it, despite all my yearning for his cock.

“Oh fuck, Andreas,” I groan and he grabs me by the hair, pulling me away from the easy chair and closer to him, so the entire length of his chest is pressed against my back. Feeling the hardness of his muscles, I hear him pant in my ear, “Now you’ll come for me like the good girl that you are.”

And with that, he starts thrusting inside me faster than I thought was possible, making my pussy clench around his cock.

I don’t answer him, I’m too busy moaning, but I do come for him, I come for him hard, at the same time he comes for me, biting down on my neck as his thrusts start slowing down.

For a while, we just stay that way, his dick still inside me and my back still pressed to his chest. Then he pulls out and turns me to face him, his mind tendrils letting go of my body.

I hear a knock at the door.

“Not now,” Andreas growls, glancing over his shoulder to scowl in the direction of the sound.

There’s a weird look in his eyes.

I just tilt my head and shove at his chest.

“Remember when you said you didn’t want to be my fuck-girl?”

“Well,” I say in a soft, flirty voice as I start unbuttoning his shirt.

He grabs my wrists and pulls me closer. “I’m done playing games, Quinn.” The way he says my name makes my heart skip a beat. “If you wanted this to be a one-night stand, fine. You’ve had your way with me and you can leave, no strings attached. But I’m warning you…”

I have to suppress a laugh. “Yes?” I just say, trying to keep a straight face.

“If you stay, no more asking around about transferring to another Academy.”

“How the hell,” I start, frowning, but he cuts me off.

“If there’s more you want out of life, and I know you do, becoming a princess should prove to be an advantage.”

For the moment, I choose to ignore the implication of what he’s saying. “What if I want to open a children’s shelter?”

“Just one?”

It makes me laugh, the way he quirks an eyebrow at me.

But then he takes my chin in his hand and says, “I’m not joking. If you stay, you’re mine.”

The intensity of the look in his eyes makes me melt. I don’t say anything. I just pull away from him, stand up and, feeling his eyes on me the entire time, slowly walk over to his bed. I get on it, lie on my side and throw him a smoldering look.

He appears before me in a heartbeat. “Spread your legs for me, Quinn,” he commands in a low voice.

“Not before you finish taking all your clothes off,” I tell him.

His lips curl into that sexy smirk of his and his hands move to obey, but the very next second, there’s more loud knocking at his door. We both freeze and he lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

“What did I tell you, Max,” he growls without taking his eyes off me.

“I’m so sorry to disturb,” I hear Max say, “but there’s a lot of people asking if you’re even coming to the Ball.”

I get up and start looking for my dress. “We really should get going,” I say.

Andreas lets out a groan and leans in to give me a long, passionate kiss.

“Fine,” he says when he pulls away. He walks up to his dresser and starts rummaging through his stuff. “But you’re coming as my date,” he says as he stalks over to me and slides a black rose corsage around my wrist.

I let out a chuckle, saying, “You know that’s against the rules. The Chosen taking each other to the Ball.”

“Fuck the rules,” he says with a smirk.

I can’t help but smile, warmth flooding my chest and making me lean in for another kiss.

By the time we arrive at the Main Hall, everyone’s already there. And they all seem to be craving our attention, especially once their eyes dart to my hand in his. He doesn’t let go of me for a second. And as we walk around, greeting everyone we meet, I can’t help but wonder how strange life can be.

Less than a year ago, if someone told me I’d find a life among the Originals of Grimm Academy, I’d laugh and tell them to shut up. And what ended up happening is far more unbelievable than that. Because I haven’t just found a life. I’ve found the life of my dreams.

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Or continue reading… next up is House of Lycan. A standalone romance, this time featuring a shifter FMC, a dark mystery, a dangerous stalker, and more!

Contents

1. Chapter 1 - Rhea

2. Chapter 2 - Rhea

3. Chapter 3 - Rhea

4. Chapter 4 - Synn

5. Chapter 5 - Rhea

6. Chapter 6 - Rhea

7. Chapter 7 - Synn

8. Chapter 8 - Rhea

9. Chapter 9 - Synn

10. Chapter 10 - Rhea

11. Chapter 11 - Rhea

12. Chapter 12 - Rhea

13. Chapter 13 - Rhea

14. Chapter 14 - Synn

15. Chapter 15 - Rhea

16. Chapter 16 - Synn

17. Chapter 17 - Rhea

18. Chapter 18 - Rhea

19. Chapter 19 - Synn

20. Chapter 20 - Rhea

21. Chapter 21 - Rhea

22. Chapter 22 - Synn

23. Chapter 23 - Rhea

24. Chapter 24 - Rhea

25. Chapter 25 - Rhea

26. Chapter 26 - Rhea

27. Chapter 27 - Synn

28. Chapter 28 - Rhea

29. Chapter 29 - Rhea

30. Chapter 30 - Synn

31. Chapter 31 - Rhea

32. Chapter 32 - Rhea

33. Chapter 33 - Rhea

34. Chapter 34 - Rhea

Chapter 1 - Rhea

My heart skips a beat when I spot it. Another rose. I drop the textbook I was about to pack for school and rush to the balcony, stopping before the stone balustrade. It wasn’t there a minute ago, I’m sure of it. My wolf pokes her nose through.

I pick the rose up, my eyes scanning the overgrown garden of my family home. I’m fully expecting to see one of them scurry into the bushes, those kids that like to poke fun at the village weirdo.

Disgusting, I think as I lift the flower to my nose and slowly inhale the strange mix of scents. It looks like a plain red rose, until you see the pure white beneath all the blood.

Whoever is leaving these, I think as I pull away to inspect the little veins in the petals that the blood brings out, they’re vile. But I’ve got to give it to them. It’s the same thing for the third time and they’re still more original than what I’m used to.

I turn to go back inside to finish packing when I hear my wolf start letting out that low growl and my head snaps up, my eyes scanning the garden again.

It’s movement that draws them to the dense line of ancient sycamores all the way at its edge.

I see him and I instantly lose my breath. I see a man disappearing into the woods right where it creeps closest.

My eyebrows pulling down, I take a step closer and, without taking my eyes off his back, I slowly grab the railing with both hands. He’s definitely a grown man, tall and broad, dressed in dark clothes.

As I watch him disappear, my wolf’s growl turns more violent, pushing me to come after him. My heart constricting in my chest, I grip the rough, lichen-covered stone tighter.

Letting out a wince, I look down and I lift the hand holding the rose, seeing that one of the thorns has pricked my palm, making a delicate drop of blood grow on the skin. I let out a tense breath, my head snapping up again.

The man is nowhere to be seen.

I hesitate for a second, hearing my wolf’s growling die down, but feeling her focus remaining just as sharp.

I guess I could go after him, into the woods. This is the third time he’s done it, always when I’ve been out on the balcony just a moment ago and there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. As if he wants me to know he’s watching.

And maybe he still is, it occurs to me, from the cover of the trees. Quickly, I straighten up and I put on my coldest, most composed face.

But I won’t go after him, I conclude as I clear my throat. I won’t simply because it would be crazy to do so, especially considering I really should finish up packing.

You mean, I hear my wolf’s deep, raspy voice, especially considering you’re a fucking coward, sweetness?

I have to fight not to snap something back at her. I know what she’s trying to do and giving in would only make things worse.

The rose still in my hand, I just go back inside. I walk past my canopy bed and come into a crouch before the old mahogany closet, where I keep the box.

Hey, my wolf demands. Not even going to dignify me with an answer?

Nope, I say as I rummage for the box. I never bring it with me to the Academy. If anyone there found out about its contents… Well, I don’t think I’d like that very much.

I get the box and, without getting up, I pull the heavy wooden lid open. Inside, there are two more white roses stained with dried blood, but they’re heavily outnumbered by the other items people have left for me over the years. Toy heads, bird skeletons, the little voodoo doll with a couple of needles in it.

It makes me see him again, so clearly, the Anderson kid leaving that last one for me in front of our gate. I stared him down as I calmly picked it up and put it in my pocket. I didn’t let him win, I never showed either fear or weakness, not for a second.

And it’s not that I didn’t feel them, I think as the memory overwhelms me. As soon as I got to my room, I fell apart just like I always do.

But I’m twenty three years old, not that scared kid anymore.

So this? I put the rose inside and close the box. This is just one of those things I need to shrug off.

Except that it wasn’t left to you by an impressionable local child, my wolf protests. It was left to you by a grown man you’ve never seen before. Three times in the past week.

I have to fight not to get into it with her. Pressing my lips tight, I put the box back in the closet, I get up and I go to my bed, starting work on trying to force my leather suitcase closed despite it overflowing with books. I’m just about to leave anyway, I tell her, and I’ll be gone for months.

She lets out one of those signature bitter laughs of hers. I don’t know what I expected from a broken fucking shifter like yourself.

Oh you’re one to talk, I snap at her just as I manage to click the suitcase closed. You’re not even a broken shifter, you’re just the part keeping the shifter broken.

Now, that shuts her up.

I straighten up and I inhale deeply, my lips curling into a smile. Time to leave.

Now, where’s that backpack, I think as I look around the room.

My eyes land on my reflection in the cheval mirror. I walk up to it to give myself another once-over. I tug on the sleeves of my light pink cardigan, smooth out my button-up shirt and pause, squinting at my princess bun, my eyes zeroing in on a flyaway. Carefully, I tuck it under my scrunchie and let out a somewhat tense but content sigh.

Glad you’re pleased, sweetness, but none of that will make you any less fat.

And it’s obvious she’s just taking another shot at getting me worked up, but I fail to stop my eyes darting to the love handles outlined under my cardigan. It’s not a modeling career I’m dreaming of, I snap at her. I’m not letting you distract me from what really matters. Not today.

It’s September 1st, my last first day at one of the most prestigious Academies for Originals in the world. But this year, the only thing that really matters is the feedback, I think as I walk up to my backpack, the letter nestled inside. And the feedback is good.

A smile tugging at my lips again, I grab the backpack and the suitcase, and I stop to say bye to the old room. The dog-eared books, the faded posters, the sunlight slanting through the old paneled windows, they’ll all be waiting for me when I get back, just as I’d left them.

But the person coming back to them… I’ll make it so she’s not the same. By the time the first term is over, I’ll be Assistant Editor at the Grimm Academy Gazette. And by the end of the second term… Who knows? I’ll be twenty-four and fresh out of the Academy. But I’ll work at it, I’ll work at it so hard that, eventually, I’ll have to become one of those journalists making an actual difference in the world.

The smile disappears as soon as I hear them. Three consecutive knocks from downstairs, loud, sharp and perfectly measured as always. It’s grandma, tapping her giant ring, the wolf tooth, on the balustrade.

***

I turn on my heel, fling the door open and start rushing down the wide wooden staircase. It groans beneath my weight, as old and run down as it is, but I love it. I just love the way it still looks so regal.

Just like grandmother. She’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs in her flowy onyx robe with black fur lining the collar. Her long gray hair is pulled back and her right hand is gripping the tall gnarly staff, but the only thing of any concern to me is that she has one of her eyebrows quirked.

It makes me slow down to a walk. But it’s only after I land in the dimly lit foyer that she speaks.

“Did you want to walk to the Academy, Rhea?” she demands.

Oh, the drama.

Shut up, I hiss at my wolf as I come to a stop before her. “Of course not, gran.”

“Next time, if you’re this late,” she says, her tone slowly softening, “you might not get to choose.”

She changed the plans at the very last minute, my wolf snarls. Tell her she can go fuck herself.

I swear to you, I threaten her, if you don’t shut it, I will spend an entire week in my dorm room, reading.

There’s a second of silence before I feel her scurry back to some remote corner of my mind.

But then I see my grandma quirk her eyebrow again, impatiently tapping her shoe on the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry, gran,” I say with an apologetic smile as I walk past her to grab her suitcase.

She waves her hand in dismissal. “Leave that, the man will take care of it.”

Of course, I think to myself as I watch her open the front door, where ‘the man’ is already waiting. Without a moment of hesitation or a single word, he grabs both our suitcases and rushes down the stone steps to pop them in the trunk.

The two of us follow, grandma stopping in front of the rear door to wait for the man to open it.

I glance at the house, its weathered brick towers and the dense woods looming from behind. My eyebrows pull down.

I hear the sound of car door opening from behind my back, followed by an impatient, “Rhea.”

I spin around, following grandma into the limo.

I settle in, barely even registering the man getting in, the motor starting, the village whizzing by. This morning, when she told me that this year, instead of the Pull, we’d be using the Gate to travel, I thought nothing of it. But now… Could it have anything to do with the roses?

I turn to grandma, but she’s already whipped out her planner.

No, she doesn’t know about them.

For a second, I hesitate, watching her flip pages with a frown scrunching up her forehead. I can tell that she’d hate the interruption so I choose to say nothing after all.

Just as we leave the last of the village houses behind and start on the forest road to Dryvein, I take my book out of my backpack and carefully open it to the bookmarked page. It’s my latest dark romance obsession, which is why I have it tucked safely inside the hardcover of Lycanology 4. I don’t really need grandma to know I read books in which the word ‘cock’ does not signify a male bird.

And I’m right at the part where the heroine is about to tend to the hero's wound, which just so happens to be located near his private bits. But although it’s one of my favorite moments of all time, I just can’t seem to get into it. I keep throwing glances at grandma, unable to stop this last-minute change of plans from distracting me.

Grandma has the right side of her face turned to me, the side with the scar. I’ve always admired how she never chose to even try to hide it, the web of fine reddish lines demanding attention by spreading from her ear and across half her face.

Even if she weren’t my grandma, I’d know the name Lyca Moran. But her serving on the Council, teaching at Grimm Academy and being one of the more famous shifters of her generation, it all sometimes makes me forget that she’s a mortal being.

The car swerves a little, making me throw a glance out the window. We’re getting close to the city and the road is no longer a bumpy, solitary one. It’s smooth but swarming with other cars.

I snap my book shut and turn to fix my eyes on grandma.

“Gran,” I start, “why exactly are we not using the Pull?” There’s one Chamber with the magic stone in the village and it gets you to the Academy in the blink of an eye. For obvious reasons, so far, we’ve never even entertained other options.

Grandma looks up from her planner and turns to squint at me. “Why do you want to know?”

“Do I really need a special reason?” I demand.

“No, but you sound like you have one,” she replies bluntly.

I just blink at her for a second. “I guess,” I say hesitantly, “I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well?”

Grandma gives an impatient wave of hand and says, “I’m eighty seven years old, Rhea, and you yourself know using the Pull couldn’t exactly be called fun even when you’re twenty four.”

She squints at me for a second. “You know what I think?”

“What, gran?” I ask, but I have a pretty good idea of what’s coming.

“I think you should stop worrying about me and start taking better care of yourself. Are you working out the way I told you to?” she demands as she lets her eyes dart to my love handles for a second.

I almost let out a sigh. My thin, incredibly-fit-for-her-age grandmother equates her granddaughter’s round belly and thick thighs with a national health crisis.

“It was a really great tip, gran,” I drawl, my mind scrambling for a change of subject before she realizes I didn’t really answer the question.

The feedback!

“Gran,” I almost yell out as I pull the letter out of my backpack and shove it in her face with a grin, “look.”

She takes it, lifts the rimless glasses off the chain around her neck and squints through them. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s the feedback for last year’s final piece,” I start, my voice betraying excitement. “I got it a few days ago, but you were so busy, I didn’t get a single chance to show it to you.”

“8 reasons you haven’t lived until you’ve dated a vampire,” grandma reads out loud, thumbing her nose, and then looks up at me. “I thought you were in the newspaper section.”

“I am,” I reply, my own eyebrows pulling down. “But we also produce blog posts and…”

“Blog posts?” she cuts me off. “That’s not respectable writing.”

“Well,” I protest, albeit a little hesitantly, “it’s not like the Daily Chronicle takes freshly graduated students.” I let out a shaky chuckle. “In any case, the goal was to get good feedback so Miss Keller would make me Assistant Editor. That way,” I keep ranting, more nervous by the second, “once the second term ends, I’ll be able to impress the scouts at the send-off brunch and get a job at the O Magazine as soon as I graduate.”

“O Magazine? That filth?” she asks, frowning as she hands me the paper. “No, you won’t be doing that.”

“Just read the feedback, gran,” I insist, refusing to take it.

She lets out a sigh, but she listens. For a second, she stays silent, her eyes darting from left to right. “This is not very good, Rhea,” she says as she looks up at me.

I frown. “What do you mean?” I mutter, taking the piece of paper from her hands. “It says right here. Meticulously crafted, factually correct…”

“In other words,” grandma cuts in, “boring. Isn’t that what it really means?”

I look up, blinking at her as I feel my heart sink low into my stomach. “That’s not how I…”

She quirks an eyebrow at me.

Finally, I give a small nod. How stupid was I, to misinterpret it all like that? I press my lips tight, determined not to show how much it bothers me.

“Is there anything else?” grandma asks as she opens her planner again. “I’m preparing for a conference call later today.”

“No,” I reply in the flattest voice I can muster, “that’s all.”

And I put the feedback back in my backpack, making myself turn to look out the window. My body weighed down and my ears ringing, I feel my wolf trying to push to the surface. I grit my teeth and don’t let her. Instead, I listen to grandma turning pages as I watch the limo glide over the bridge leading into the city.

I’m on my way back to the Academy, where I’ll be surrounded by an entire horde of 20-something shifters, vampires and faes who are — as a rule — just as entitled as they are dangerous, and who’ll make my life a living hell if ever I let them get a single whiff of my insecurities.

Calm, I simply need to stay calm, I keep chanting to myself as we enter the first of the many in the web of narrow, dingy streets by the river. The limo slows down significantly and I lean forward, looking out and feeling a little claustrophobic just seeing how densely packed the cars are. I see one of them wiggle its way out of the traffic by crawling up the side of the building to our right.

Dryvein, I think with a smile. As to be expected from a place in which — unlike my family’s very homogenous little shifter village — all three bloodlines are struggling to coexist, you always get to see something you’ve never seen before.

This time, it’ll be the inside of the Ministry of Education, I think as we get out of the narrow street and onto the wide avenue circling Dryvein’s three main levitating towers.

I look for the one we’re headed for. It’s the one in the middle, built from stone so white, it’s almost translucent. The limo slows down again and pulls in front of a set of majestic stone steps leading up to it.

We get out and I force myself to inhale deeply. There are so many people whizzing past, I take both our suitcases from the driver and I follow my grandma up the steps and into a huge, echoing hall with hordes of people waiting around the Gate in queues so unruly, it makes me wonder if people really can’t do anything right.

But I shrug it off and I fix my eyes on the Gate. People often use it to get around, but I myself haven’t tried it once. So when we come near its frame, I can’t help but feel a bit nervous. The frame is made of brushed brass and it's so tall, I have to look up to see its top. But it’s what the metal is surrounding that draws my eye. The barely noticeable shimmer.

We approach a long line of students formed in front of it, all carrying their luggage with them.

But of course, grandma just walks to the front. No one bats an eye. After all, she has the Council sigil embroidered onto her robe.

I barely manage to come to a halt before I see grandma step through the frame and disappear. I open my mouth to call out to her, but it’s too late.

So I push myself to take a deep breath and follow her. And instantly, everything turns black.

***

While using the Pull feels like getting sucked somewhere else, this is more like a scene cut in my mind.

When I come to, I’m somewhere else entirely. On a grassy clearing, to be more exact, the woods behind me and a massive castle wall before me. And the place does seem familiar, but at the same time, my mind is all jumbled up.

It’s only when I fix my eyes on grandma and the wooden double door in front of us that the confusion subsides. And I recognize the Academy walls.

I breathe a sigh of relief. There, that wasn’t so bad, I think to myself as I watch the door open and one of the giants peer through. He’s three times the size of a regular Original, so he needs to get his head down to step out. His enormous, muscled body dressed in plain but clean clothes, he scans our faces and starts walking up to us.

As he does, I have to repeat to myself that this is not the first time I’m this close to one of them. And look at his face, just look at that mild expression on his face. Still, as I let him take my suitcase, I almost flinch, imagining the Mind Magic give out and one of his giant hands wrap around my throat instead.

None of that happens. With both our suitcases in his hands, he just turns back to the door and stops, waiting for us to follow him.

But before I can take a single step forward, I feel someone watching me.

My head snaps back, in the direction of the woods sprawling all around the castle.

And I think I see him standing right in front of the first line of towering sycamores, looking in my direction.

I watch him raise a hand and let something drop to the ground.

My breath catches and my heart breaks into a gallop. Another rose.

My wolf rears her head, begging me to let her through. My mind straining, I just shove her deeper inside.

“Rhea,” I hear grandma call out to me.

I make myself snap out of it and rush to catch up with her. And as we follow the giant through the door, I see the look she’s throwing me, but I choose to fix my eyes ahead, my heart racing.

The giant closes the gate behind us and leaves to take care of our luggage.

We just keep walking down the gravel path winding through the castle gardens. And you can’t see the castle itself simply because it’s underground, but that doesn’t make the view any less splendid. Marking the center of the grounds, there’s the round cobblestone square with the Dame Gothel statue, gravel paths leading to each of the four Towers that are shooting into the clear sky. My wolf takes in a lungful of the crisp air. On the horizon, there’s the barren Graf Hill to the west, the shimmering Sobbing Lake to the east and the deep, dark Lycan Forest to the north.

But I can’t really enjoy it, and not just because of the man. It’s also because grandma won’t stop glancing at me. “Is everything okay?” she finally asks.

“Yes, gran,” I force myself to reply, glancing down at my suddenly sweaty palms.

“You know how bad it is for you to excite yourself,” she says in a scolding tone. “Are you taking your pills?”

“When I need to,” I just say.

But I can tell she’s still squinting at me. “Are you pouting because of the thing I said about your article?”

When we’re already in front of the Grimm Tower — the robust, barely adorned one where all the professors are housed, she takes me by the wrist and forces me to stop. “Rhea,” she says as she looks deep into my eyes, “it’s not the end of the world. Besides, they have very high standards at your newspaper, don’t they?”

I want to nod, but I’m hesitating, feeling a lump in my throat.

“Don’t they?” she insists, the look in her eyes growing a little softer.

Finally, giving her a joyless smile, I say, “Yes, they do, gran.”

She looks at me for a second and then gives a sharp nod. “Good. Now have yourself a good first day and don’t be late for dinner,” she adds as she turns to walk to the Grimm Tower.

And it’s nice, that she’s tried to cheer me up like that, but I just remain standing there, trying my hardest to calm down.

I left the village. So what in the name of Lycan is that man doing here?

Did he follow me here?

Chapter 2 - Rhea

My mind is buzzing. I’m walking without really noticing my surroundings, letting my feet lead me down the familiar path through the overgrown garden. It will take me from the Grimm Tower all the way to the Lycan Tower — where shifter students are housed — where I will climb to the fifth floor, go inside room 54 and find my suitcases already waiting for me there. Just like the past three years.

Except, this time, there’s the man.

And to think I let grandma leave without even mentioning it, I think as I let the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet fall into the background. Why?

It’s at that exact moment, just as the path winds closer to Graf Hill and the Lilith Tower at its foot, that I hear someone let out a loud, dragged-out groan. My eyes snap in the direction of the sound and I stop, spotting three students, two guys and one girl, standing below a willow by the side of the path.

The girl has her hands balled into fists by her sides. “Will you fucking open already?” I hear her yell out in frustration.

“Hey, don’t talk to it that way,” one of the guys complains.

I squint. All fae-blooded, at least judging by the Runes around their necks — stones with carvings in them that they use to channel their powers. And freshmen, which might be even more apparent than the fact of their bloodline.

“How am I supposed to fucking talk to it then?” the girl says through gritted teeth. “It won’t listen.”

When it finally hits me, I have to fight not to roll my eyes.

I glance around, squinting in search of the usual suspects. It doesn’t take me long to spot them. The Albrecht twins, sniggering from behind a bush some distance to the victims’ left.

As soon as they see me watching them, they break into a sprint back in the direction of the Grimm Tower.

Taking a deep breath to summon patience, I march up to the freshman trio, clear my throat and jump straight to the point.

“Let me guess,” I say as they all turn to look at me, “you got approached by two vampire guys who told you this tree right here is how you get into your dorms.”

They nod vigorously.

“They said to just repeat ‘Open’ until the tree gives in.”

I throw them all a reassuring smile. “You’re not the first to fall for it, but nope, not a magic tree. Sure, we have like a dozen of those,” I explain as I motion at the willow behind them, “but this one? Does absolutely nothing, so...”

One of the guys rolls his eyes and lets out a pissed-off sigh. “I’m guessing that’s not the Ydril Tower then?” he asks, pointing at the tall tower behind him, nestled at the bottom of Graf Hill and built from smooth, almost translucent stone.

“That’s the Lilith Tower, the vampire’s House,” I reply matter-of-factly. “That one right there,” I say as I point all the way to the other side of the gardens, over the Dame Gothel statue and to the leaning, vine-covered tower beside the Sobbing Lake, “is yours.”

The girl lets out a frustrated groan, spits out a barely intelligible ‘thanks,’ and motions for the guys to follow her.

“Not so fast, you three,” I stop them before they can take a single step. As they turn back to me, I fold my arms and throw them a your-own-fault kind of look. “You were supposed to report directly to the Grimm Tower to be assigned your guides for the day, did you not?”

Two of them open their mouths to say something, but I don’t give them a chance. “I want you to go there this instant and get yourselves sorted, got it?”

There’s a second of silence during which all three of them just blink at me.

“Fine,” the girl drawls, clearly annoyed, but unwilling to actually put up a fight.

She moves to walk away and the guys follow her.

“And don’t believe everything everyone tells you around here,” I add in a raised voice, trying to be helpful.

The guys both throw me an apprehensive glance over the shoulder, but neither of them says anything.

“You’re welcome,” I say, more to myself. I shrug and keep walking, the thought of how many freshmen I’ve got out of this situation both baffling and amusing me. And they always fall for it. I mean, are they all that gullible?

Of course they are, Rhea, just like you were when you first got here. Except for me, it was worse. I wasn’t just gullible. I was vulnerable, and still am.

After all, I’m a broken shifter among hordes of other Originals who don’t have those kinds of problems. And they’re not just more powerful than I am — shifters who can shift into fierce animals, vampires who can use Mind Magic on other creatures, faes who can use their Runes to control the elements… I’ve never allowed myself to forget the simple fact that we’re all forced to be here so we’d learn control over our powers, so that we’d be able to share this world with the Scions — that is, the humans — without doing each other any unnecessary harm. That’s the way it’s been for almost two hundred years, ever since we signed the Treaty. And whenever you have a bunch of people forced to be together, there’s bound to be tensions.

I keep walking, my eyes fixed on the Lycan Tower, the roughest and oldest-looking of them all, the deep, dark forest looming behind it. Despite all my fears of being in the same place as other Originals, I had such a detailed vision for myself when I first arrived three years ago, my suitcase crammed with books I’d memorized from cover to cover, as well as all the Academy merch you could get without actually being a student here. The notebooks, the pens, the knitted scarf with the Academy and House of Lycan sigils.

Lost in my thoughts, I reach the Dame Gothel statue and I stop. Normally, I’d continue on the path to my House’s tower, go straight to my room, get unpacked and start preparing for the first class, which is this very afternoon. But today, all I can think about is this being my last year here.

And what have I done with my time, after everything grandma sacrificed to get me here despite all my shifting problems? Wrote a series of blog posts no respectable journalist would be proud of. Why did I ever think going in that direction would be a good idea?

No, that’s not how things will go for me, I think with a sudden rush of determination. Instead of going to my room, I press my lips tight and decide to take the Elevator to get underground, into the castle itself.

I approach the edge of the cobblestone ring around the statue, positioning myself on the beaten patch of grass where the Elevator is hiding. As soon as its brushed-brass door rises from the ground and opens in front of me, I step inside and turn to face it. It closes soundlessly and I press the buttons I’ve pressed a million times before, the action now a reflex. My mind is already scrambling for ideas on how to turn all this around.

The Elevator door opens and its silence immediately gets switched out for the cacophony that is the newsroom, a large space crammed with desks and swivel chairs. Excitement and nervousness flooding my body, I pause to take it all in. The persistent buzzing of the cooling system. The sudden sounds of overstuffed cabinet drawers being closed shut. The usual insults being thrown from one end of the room to the other, echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

I step inside and start walking to my desk. I spot a few old colleagues and give each a nod, but I’m practically marching to my destination, trying not to bump into any of the first-years running around, copying stuff and getting coffee.

But then, I also spot the Trio. And I take a deep breath. I know exactly what my first step should be.

I change my course, my focus sharpening with each step. They’re chatting away, Griselda sitting in her chair with the two of them around her desk. And it seems not much has changed since I last saw them. Siobhan, the freckled shifter girl, is now wearing overalls and Lhoris, the plainest-looking fae guy, seems to have spent the summer trying to grow a goatee. But they’re still following Griselda around like lost puppies.

“Hey, you three,” I say with a smile as I come to a stop. They all turn to look at me. “What are those grins all about? Must have gotten good feedback.”

“Mine was terrible,” Lhoris replies with a sigh of frustration.

Alright, so mine’s not the worst.

“It turns out I’m still struggling with fact-checking,” Siobhan chimes in.

Still not the worst then.

“How about you, Griselda?” I turn to their leader, who I can’t seem to like no matter what I do. She has this very annoying way of pursing her lips when she’s judging you to be less than. And being a tall, thin vampire heiress makes her feel like she often has a right to.

“Oh, it was great, actually,” she says with a sly smile. “Why, did you not like yours?”

I grit my teeth, but I make myself keep smiling. “It was very constructive, I have to say. Your mother,” I say, pausing so as not to bury the stab too much, “is an excellent editor. But now I’m off to get started on something new. Something better.”

Siobhan and Lhoris throw me hesitant smiles, but their leader just rolls her eyes at me and drawls, “Be careful not to get too successful too soon.”

“Will do, Griselda,” I choose to say, despite the fact I want to stab her in the eye with a freshly sharpened pencil.

I turn on my heel and walk away. It doesn’t matter, even if her feedback really was better than mine. I decide she doesn’t count, mostly because she did spend nine months in Keller’s womb. And I’ve made sure I only have a few classes per semester, which means not all is lost. I still have lots of time. I still have a chance to get picked.

Assistant Editor at the Grimm Academy Gazette, I chant to myself. Assistant Editor.

On autopilot, I go back to my desk, hang my bag off the backrest of my chair and throw myself in it. I log into my computer, getting into the zone as if flipping a switch. All the sounds, the chatting and the typing and the running, they all disappear into the background.

I start browsing the web. The solution to my problem seems simple. Find something serious to write about.

I visit the local news site and start scrolling.

And despite the fact I have to read the news every single day, it never fails to surprise me, how utterly horrible this world is. There are the Scions — that is, the humans — fighting amongst themselves. Then there are the Originals fighting amongst themselves. And unsurprisingly, we also have humans and Scions fighting amongst themselves.

I almost let out a scoff when it occurs to me that it’s been almost two hundred years since the Unveiling — when the Brothers Grimm went and changed the world forever by revealing to their fellow humans that the creatures from their fairy tales were real, that we Originals were living, breathing beings.

The intention was to usher in a new era, an era of peace, collaboration and prosperity. And I guess there is a growing number of communities that aren’t all-human or all-Original, in which we’re mixing, but we’re still so far from achieving anything that could be called prosperity. Mainly, if we’re not downright fighting and threatening each other, we’re bickering.

My eye gets drawn to a piece about the Scions uniting to try to tax the Originals for all the suffering caused by them over the centuries. They seem particularly upset about the vampires’ current monopoly of the app market.

But that’s global news. Who am I going to interview, when and where, to get a good take on such a perfectly serious, respectable bit?

The rest is just prices going up and people arguing about stuff that happened ages ago.

I let out a sigh and throw myself back in my chair. At that very moment, my eyes dart to the door leading into the editor’s office. They open with a soft creak and out comes the only colleague I can actually tolerate, a ripped vampire with smooth pale skin, shiny raven hair and piercing green eyes that I can’t help liking despite his overflowing confidence.

But this time, my eyebrows pull down. What was he doing in there, all alone?

Edgar catches my eye even before he closes the door behind him. He throws on a wide smile and comes to sit on my desk.

“Look at you, R,” he drawls as he shows practically all his perfect teeth. “How was your summer?”

If I told the truth, I’d have to confess I spent it crossing an insane number of books off my TBR.

So I just throw him a smile and say, “Terrific. Yours?”

He lets out a low groan, but doesn’t stop flashing me that smile. “As always, a lot of fighting about who gets to pick the next vacation spot and which book would be worth including in our book club.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Let me know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on,” I tease him, but I’m too impatient to continue with the chit-chat. I lean a bit forward and lower my voice. “But what did Keller want from you?”

I witness the grin slide right off his face. “Oh,” he starts, awkwardly clearing his throat, “nothing really.”

I just blink at him for a second. “Did she want to discuss the feedback? Does she want to see the rest of us?”

“Nah,” he says with a wave of his hand, a smile curling his lips again. “I mean, she gave me really great feedback, like, never better.”

That makes my eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” I ask in a breathless voice.

“Really,” he echoes, nodding away as if he can’t believe it himself. “She said it was a serious, meaty, courageous piece, all in all, full of spirit.”

“Wow,” I drawl, although my mind is struggling to accept it.

Edgar is usually the worst of the bunch, with his messy trains of thought, his unwillingness to fact check and his persistent grammatical errors.

What’s going on?

“Sounds like you knocked it out of the park,” I finally say, hoping that I’ve kept the bitterness out of my voice.

It seems I’ve succeeded, because he throws me a wide grin when he says, “I’m sure yours wasn’t as bad as she says it is, I mean, she does have really high standards.”

Yep, that’s Edgar. Sweet but oblivious to the point of being insensitive. But that’s the least of my worries right now.

“Sorry, Ed,” I grumble, mustering enough dignity to give him a wide smile as I get out of my chair. “I have to do a quick run to the Library.”

And I leave as if nothing’s happened, but I’m not nearly as cool on the inside. In my mind, there are alarms going off. How did this happen? How is it possible that just this morning, I thought I was in for the best year of my life, followed by an avalanche of job offers and a demanding but satisfying journalistic career? And now? Now I find out I can’t even compete with Edgar?

Chapter 3 - Rhea

I’m so frustrated, I can barely make out the words. I’m in the Library, sitting in one of the plush chairs next to the glass wall. And the book I have open in front of me is supposed to be one of the most interesting autobiographies you could ever read, but my mind keeps going back to the feedback.

I force myself to finish the chapter, in which the author reminisces getting to interview Duncan the Pious during The War of the Elements. But how is this going to inspire me if I feel like I couldn’t care less?

I let out a sigh. All these people ever write about are goddamn wars.

And even if I were prepared to go that far, no one is going to let a powerless shifter who hasn’t even graduated anywhere near a goddamn war zone.

Just as I slam the book shut, the comforting silence of the Library is broken by laughter booming from the direction of the main desk. I find myself letting out a frustrated breath when I see Edgar chatting with a couple of people who really don’t seem like they’re here to borrow any books.

Determined not to get distracted, I turn to the glass wall to my left.

Outside, I see the usual. But focusing on it always somehow gets me in the right headspace for work. The view of the largest cave around the castle, the light falling onto its crumbling columns so dim, soft, meditative.

Just as I prepare to get back to work, I feel the need to look up.

Edgar is standing to my right, looking down with a feigned frown.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, R,” he starts as I squint at him, “but you’ve been here for hours and I know for a fact that you haven’t gotten anything to eat all day long.”

Tell it to my grandma, I think to myself. She’d be proud.

“That may be true,” I say with a sigh, “but I’m not nearly done here.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” he insists as he takes a step closer, grabs me by the upper arm and starts pulling me to my feet. “We’re going for a very late lunch and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

For a second, I just look at him. Then it occurs to me. Instead of letting him get to me, I could try to figure out what he did better than me.

So I throw him a grin and let him drag me away from my books. “Who do you think was a better journalist,” I start as we step out of the Library and into the hallway leading to the cafeteria, “Vogt or Connolly?”

He frowns. “I don’t know anything about either of them.”

“Well,” I say as our footfalls become muffled by the soft red carpets and the chatter of the students rushing past us, “Vogt was definitely ballsier, but Connolly had better theories.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Edgar replies unconvincingly as his eyes roam the entrance into the cafeteria, which seems to be seriously crowded. “Bloody hell, I do hope they still have pizza left.”

I rush after him as he charges through the giant archway and straight at the counters where they keep the fast food. The students around us seem more excited than ever, probably drunk on the promise of a fresh start, but I can’t seem to look away from Edgar’s plate as he piles it high with all the most carb-heavy options.

No, I tell myself. I have my meal plan and I’m sticking to it, discreetly pinching one of my love handles to remind myself of why I’m doing all this in the first place.

But the moment my eyes land on the burgers, I feel all that determination crumble. I take one. Then I take the fries as well. And if I’m going to eat those, I think to myself, what’s the harm in adding a single slice of pie?

By the time I’m done, my plate looks just as bad as Edgar’s.

“Well then,” I keep going as we take the first empty table we can find, “what journalists are you into, Ed?”

He looks up from his food, blinking at me. “None,” he says with a shrug.

“Seriously?” I ask with a frown.

“Seriously,” he echoes with a laugh and takes a bite of his pizza. “Other people’s work doesn’t really interest me.”

My eyebrows pulling down, I feel the urge to tell him he won’t get too far with an attitude like that. But it gives me a weird kind of satisfaction, hearing him talk like an amateur. I choose not to say anything, fearing the words coming out of my mouth would sound like gloating.

So I just smile and shake my head, watching him stuff his face with pizza. Goddamn him, I think to myself, how can he eat so much and not gain any weight?

I look down at my plate. I take a single bite of my burger and then put it back down. The least I can do is eat it slowly.

To distract myself from the urge to wolf it all down, I glance around the room.

The cafeteria is one of the rare places in which I feel a large hall with vaulted ceilings and three fountains placed along the middle. It’s got every type of food you could dream of and only the more relaxed professors come to enjoy it with us, which is why the atmosphere is generally upbeat.

But right now, I’m realizing the students, who I thought were just excited, all seem to be huddled around their tables, chatting in low, tense voices.

“Why is everyone acting so weird?” I ask without turning to look at Edgar.

“You haven’t heard?”

I meet his eye, frowning.

He puts his third slice of pizza down and rubs his hands together gleefully. “There’s a prisoner on the run,” he says with a mysterious smile.

“So?” I ask.

He leans forward a little, smiling and mouthing as he whispers, “On the run from Nasgard.”

That makes me laugh and lean back in my chair. “No, seriously, what happened?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I just told you.” And he pops a few fries into his mouth.

I frown. “But Nasgard is… Nasgard. No one ever escapes from Nasgard.”

Edgar swallows and then lets out a chuckle. “Now you get the pomp. And I guess we’ll just have to come up with new stories to scare the kids with, now that the only inescapable prison we got is no longer the shit.”

How exciting, I think to myself. At least it would be, if it were true…

I whip out my phone to check. It only takes me a couple of seconds to pull up a Daily Chronicle article from an hour ago.

My mouth drops open and an ice-cold chill runs up my spine.

“Early this morning, a thirty-year-old fae-blooded man has been found missing from the 9th Circle of Nasgard. The criminal in question is highly dangerous, which is why the public is advised to limit their movements and use any protection spells they have at their disposal.”

I start scrolling madly, trying to get to the mugshot. Then I remember.

Only those worthy of it will be remembered, the words echo through my mind, and those that are not, will forever be forgotten. The words that inspired the introduction of the Erasure Law — the Law that states that as soon as someone ends up in Nasgard, they’re dead to the rest of our society.

So I stop, I scroll back and I just keep reading.

“In a statement given to the public, the Authority claim a search party was formed and sent out to sweep the premises immediately after the incident. However, it appears to have resulted in no success whatsoever. While Warden Wagner has refused to give a comment, invoking the Erasure Law, the only conclusion to be drawn is that the prisoner in question is currently at large and that Nasgard can no longer be deemed inescapable.”

“Okay, so it seems someone really did break out,” I start as I look up to Edgar. He’s done eating and is now playing with his own phone. I stare at him until I catch his attention. “But the Warden is invoking a law forbidding us to talk about the individual prisoners when asked about the escape, not the prisoner. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“If you were the Warden, would you be eager to admit you let one of them break out?” Edgar says with an amused smile. “But the man is gone and that’s the end of the story.”

How can he be so nonchalant about this, I wonder. “The end of the story?” I protest. “Ed, if this were any other prison… But it’s Nasgard. How’s the Authority supposed to find a man no one has any info on?”

He frowns, shaking his head as if I’m being stupid. “You seriously think when they enforce the Erasure Law, they get everything?”

“I guess you’re right,” I admit, albeit unwillingly, “but even if they do manage to dig something out, that doesn’t mean the man poses no danger to the public.” I pause for a second, shaking my head as I throw him an intense look. “I mean, who knows what he’s going to do now that he’s out.”

“What he’s going to do?” Edgar echoes me with a suppressed laugh. “Lye around not being tortured for all eternity, that would be my first guess, R.” He pauses to look deeper into my eyes, his eyebrows raised as if he can’t believe what I’m saying. “You know, you sound just like my sisters when they’ve started on one of their cheap thrillers.”

That makes blood flow to my cheeks. “I just think it’ll be terribly exciting for the journalists dealing with this case,” I rush to say.

Edgar just looks at me for a second and then barks out a laugh. “I’m just grateful Nasgard is all the way in the Eastern Territories.”

I just blink at him. That’s right, I think to myself. Even if the story turned out to be sensationally interesting, it’s not local.

My excitement deflating, I look down to stare at my plate. Just eat your food, Rhea, and then it’s Library time again.

“Hm,” I hear Edgar say and I look up at him. He’s staring at his phone, frowning. “It seems the Pied Piper’s canceled the Opening Ceremony.”

My eyebrows pull down. Contrary to what the fairy tale says, the Pied Piper used to be the person who took care of children — Original children down on their luck. But once we established the Academies, the role became primarily the role of principal. So sure, Johanna de Groot has every right to cancel whatever she wants to cancel, but why would she do that?

But before I can open my mouth to comment on this, I notice Edgar’s eyes snap in the direction of the entrance. I follow them, seeing a student standing by the archway leading back into the entrance hall, holding an armful of papers and taping one on the left column.

Within a matter of seconds, there’s a whole crowd gathered around it.

Exchanging a single confused glance, Edgar and I follow suit. We need to elbow our way through, but when we finally come close enough to see it, I have to fight not to yell out with excitement. It’s a poster with the words ‘Wanted’ in large block letters at the top and ‘5,000 Aureons Reward’ at the bottom. And in the center, the escaped prisoner’s picture.

A picture!

“I guess you were right about the Erasure Law,” I tell Edgar as I get on the tips of my toes, squinting to see better.

For a second, all I see is a pair of eyes, narrowing at me from under thick eyebrows, as if I’ve just been spotted and am about to be caught. My breath hitches.

Then I notice the muscles appearing to flex before my eyes, as if I’m witnessing a moment right before a lunge. Discomfort spreads through my body and I move to walk away, but my wolf doesn’t let me.

Without a word, she coaxes me into studying the surprisingly elegant curves of the jawline, the nose, the lips. Then the hair, the dark, thick, tangled mess that falls to broad, muscled shoulders. And then the scars, the one cutting through a furrowed brow, the one disappearing under the dirty, thread-bare shirt…

But it’s the eyes that keep drawing my attention. There’s something so savage in the eyes.

What snaps me out of it is a hand giving my upper arm a squeeze. I turn and see Edgar standing next to me, even paler than usual, looking in the direction of the entrance hall.

I follow his eyes and I see a whole procession of Authority Officers following the Pied Piper. I frown and without even realizing what I’m doing, start moving towards them.

Edgar calls out to me, but I barely register it. I see the procession disappear into the Elevator, the Pied Piper probably taking them up to her office in the Grimm Tower.

Still, my heart is pounding like crazy, my mind busy trying to process what’s going on…

Could it be that this man had connections to the Academy? I turn on my heel and start walking back to Edgar. He’s definitely not as upbeat as he was a moment ago.

I, on the other hand, can barely contain my excitement.

Because this seems to be a local story after all.

And it’s mine.

Chapter 4 - Synn

As soon as I find the right spot, the noise in my head stops. Now, I can only hear the wind rustling through the leaves all around me. It’s strange, but that’s what happens whenever I’m lurking like this, waiting for her to appear. This state of heightened focus in which I can find at least some relief.

There’s a sound from the Academy’s direction. Some kind of bird flying over. But I can’t afford to make any mistakes so I move a little closer to the edge, once again scanning the surroundings. I’ve picked the perfect spot, there’s no underestimating that. I’m under the cover of the forest yet everything’s so clearly visible. The clearing in front of the Academy, its walls, the gate itself.

That’s where I fix my eyes. They didn’t use the Pull, as I expected them to, but this has to be where they’re going. First day of school… My mind struggles with it. The idea angers it.

It’s at that very moment that I see the two of them materialize. I stand still as a rock, my focus sharp as a knife. They’re here. I see the grandmother lead the way to the gate and I see the girl follow her, acting like a lost little kitten.

I fix my eyes on Kitten. I soak up her every move, I scan her clothes, I strain my ears to make out potential words.

As I watch, my breathing gets heavy, my jaw clenching and my right hand crushing the rose.

Then I see one of the giants open the gate for them and I know she’s about to disappear on me. I have to tell myself she’s more dangerous than she looks and I’m still too weak to just walk up to her and kill her on the spot. But I can’t say bye without leaving a mark.

I take a few steps forward, just enough to get out of the cover of the trees.

My eyes narrowing into slits, I keep staring at her until she feels someone looking. She turns in my general direction, the anticipation making my heart skip a beat.

Finally, I feel her eyes land on me and I see her freeze.

Yes, eyes on me, Kitten. It’s then that I lift my arm and let the rose drop to the ground.

I can almost taste Kitten’s fear. The pleasure it gives me almost makes me move even closer, take it even further.

For a second, I think she’s turning to say something to the old woman. For a second, I think that this time, I’ve allowed myself to come too close and she’s actually seen my face.

But Kitten just turns on her heel and rushes to catch up with her grandmother. She goes through the gate, the both of them do, and I watch the massive wooden doors close shut behind them.

For a second, the anger almost makes me throw caution to the wind and come after her, right here, right now.

Instead, I force myself to calm down and stalk back into the forest.

Once the trees close around me again, I start walking as fast as I can. I need to grit my teeth to keep going, but if I’m going to make it happen, if I’m going to quench this raging thirst once and for all, I need to find the place and I need to get better.

So I just keep walking.

I walk until the world starts spinning and I have to stop. My hand darts to the Runes hanging off a string around my neck. Maybe? No, I’m too weak.

I glance around the quiet forest. The smartest thing to do would be to keep walking, but it’ll take me no less than a day, if not more. My stomach sinks. Maybe that’s a whole day I simply don’t have.

What about Aether? I hesitate, remembering the price I paid for it.

But there’s nothing more important than this. To be fucking fair, there’s nothing else I’d call important at all.

So I dig around my pocket, my fingers closing around a small glass vial.

The very last one.

I take it out and I lift it up to my eye level. As always, it seems empty, until you stare at it for a bit. Then you start noticing the movement of the air trapped inside. How ridiculously fast it is.

I’m already facing southwest, so I pause for a second, but then I carefully uncork the vial.

I only manage to see the air escape through the opening before everything turns into a blur.

The next thing I know, I’m bending over, gritting my teeth so as not to let out a loud groan, my hand pressed to my stomach.

I glance around. I’m knee-deep in a loud fucking brook in the middle of a forest.

But except for the birds in the trees and the fish that I’m scaring away, I seem to be all alone.

I let my eyes dart to the wound.

The trip here has opened it up again. The clumsy stitches have all torn, letting the aggressively red flesh drench my shirt with fresh blood. And the large gash is pulsating once again, each movement sending a shock of pain through my body.

I swallow a groan, straighten up and start making my way out of the brook.

I climb out and stop to look around. Aether Vials aren’t known for being precise, but most of the time, they at least get you near your destination.

There are reeds all along the little coast, which is how I know that, if nothing else, I’m far, far away from the Academy.

But as soon as I start scanning the oak trees all around me, I remember. This is the brook. The one right next to the clearing.

My wound stops pulsating and starts throbbing like I’m being ripped open all over again. I’m so close, I’m so fucking close now, but if I really want to make it... I need to bring some food with me.

I look down at my wound. It’s not good, it’s not good at all. But I activate my Sight and start walking, scanning the forest around me for signs of life.

Unlike the woods around Kitten’s house, where I nearly starved, this place is teeming with it. Balls of warm energy all around me, birds flitting from tree to tree, squirrels climbing their branches, rabbits scurrying between the bushes.

There’s only one animal that’s not moving, right over there, where the grass is tallest. And it’s the largest.

I stop midstep. Then I start slowly approaching, making sure not to move too suddenly.

I guess I could hunt for something else, I think for a second. But why would I?

Once I come to stand right above it, I see my Sight didn’t fail me. It’s lying there in the grass, the fawn, right where its mother left it. It doesn’t even move its frail little body. It just looks up at me with its huge, round eyes.

There’s such softness in them, so much trust.

When I bend over and reach out my hand, for a second, the moist little nose starts work on sniffing my skin.

It only stops when I grab it by the neck and lift it off the ground. The little legs start kicking, but it’s no use.

I take a good look at those trusting eyes that are now rounding in fear, committing them to memory.

Then I snap its neck, feeling the body go limp and seeing the warmth emanating from it get extinguished.

Death.

In the end, that’s all there is to life.

I lower the hand with the fawn to my side and keep walking, scanning the forest to make sure I don’t miss it.

And it’s right there. The clearing. Why did I ever think I wouldn’t recognize it?

As if in a dream, I make my way through the trees and stop.

The clearing's still empty. And the tree is still there, towering over all the others forming the first line to the north.

I squint, my heart skipping a beat.

There they are. The symbols carved into the bark, a large triangular eye at the center.

I inhale deeply and I walk up to the tree. Craning my neck, I try to spot the branch we used to enter from.

Now I’m so close, it’s like I’m already inside. But I don’t let myself linger on it. I don’t even let myself feel it. The wound has stopped throbbing, but that doesn’t mean I have time to spare.

So I hoist the dead fawn over my shoulder and I start.

I grab the lowest branch and pull myself up. Then I grab another one and another one.

And the higher I get, the quieter the forest becomes.

Until I hear it, down below. A quiet little scratching sound.

Don’t look, I tell myself as my heart quickens. It’s probably a squirrel. Just keep climbing.

But I don’t stop hearing it. And slowly, the sound starts to grow louder and sound more and more like claws digging into the bark in full sprint. And then there’s the stomach-churning smell of that man’s tobacco. And I’m climbing, but now my heart is throbbing, my breathing is shallow and my hands are trembling.

I can no longer resist. I glance over my shoulder and down at the ground. There’s only a sea of treetops below me.

Until the treetops turn into a horde of them, and I snap my head back, fixing my eyes ahead and trying to ignore the sound.

But the sound only gets closer, until I hear their maws open right below my feet, already feeling their razor-sharp teeth snap shut around them.

I stop and I jerk backwards, kicking my leg and flailing my arm to fend them off.

And I fall. I fall onto the branch below, straight onto my stomach, my body exploding in pain as blood gushes out of my wound.

I start slipping and I try to stop it, but all my muscles are numb and there’s blood everywhere. There are no dogs, of course there are no dogs, so if I die right now…

At the very last second, I force my arms to come to life and I grab onto the branch. I push myself up and I go back to climbing. I’ve lost the fawn, but at least it makes it easier.

Ruthlessly, I force myself to keep going until I look up and see it. The branch, much thicker than the rest, with carvings on it.

I don’t hesitate. I reach out and grab onto it with both hands. But I don’t push myself up, I let my body hang for a second. I take a deep breath, preparing for the searing pain. Then, despite the gushing wound, I engage my core and I lift both my legs up, the world around me turning upside down as I let my head hang and place my feet on the branch between my hands.

Just like it used to be, I have to force my hands to let go. The second I do, expecting a fall, my brain floods my body with a rush of adrenaline.

And the world around me remains upside down, but I don’t plummet to my death. I simply find myself standing, seeing it appear smack in the middle of the clearing. The tower you can only see from this exact spot and this exact position.

The Upside-Down Place, we called it.

Feeling my wound throbbing and blood weighing down my shirt, I force myself to start moving. Spreading my arms for balance, I walk down the branch until I’m as close as I can get.

The tower looks just as it did all those years ago. Round, made of stone, without any adornment except a wooden roof and a small wooden window at my eye level. Forgettable, that’s what it would be, if it weren’t for the grass sky above and the upside-down trees all around it.

I bend forward, open the window and peer inside. A waft of stagnant air and rotting animals fills my nostrils. But the weathered winding staircase is still there, wrapped in darkness.

I jump inside, shut the window behind me and start climbing.

I push and I push some more, I’m-so-close being my mantra. And in a flash, I find myself standing in front of the single, plain-looking door at the very top.

For a second, I hesitate. Then I turn the doorknob and push. At first, there’s only darkness, the small cell-like room being illuminated by a single barred window on the wall opposite of me.

I walk inside and almost immediately, I see a large white shape hanging from the center of the ceiling.

Then, from my left, I hear a strange clicking sound.

I lose my breath even before my brain catches up.

My head snaps in the direction of the sound and I see a cluster of eyes staring at me from the ceiling corner. A Velocirene spider, its legs already flexing.

For a moment, I just stand there, my breathing starting heavy. If it weren’t for her… I never would’ve ended up in there. I never would’ve had to break out. I never would’ve found myself in this mess.

But the very next moment, the beast kicks itself off the ceiling and straight to where I’m standing.

I pull the knife out of my holster, I roar at the top of my lungs and I lunge at it with all my remaining strength. Already its legs are spreading to trap me, but I swing the knife left and right, up and down, so quickly and with such force, I slash all eight of them in a flash.

The spider crashes to the floor, along with the limbs, flailing and screeching with pain. But I’m not done yet. No, no. My body shaking with rage, my wound whipping me with pain and my mind filling with images of the past nine years of my life, I walk up to it and, roaring as loud as my lungs will allow me, I lift my knife and start stabbing. I let the blade fall and fall and fall until there’s nothing left to stab but a mushy pile of eyes and organs on the dirty floor.

Then I collapse right next to it. As my eyelids start closing of their own volition, all I can feel is the urge to go to Fae Realm ripping into me. If I really wanted to live, I’d need to go, right now.

But for someone like me, that’s no longer an option.

And that’s just one of the many reasons I will live. I will live so I can go to that bitch, despite whatever tricks she’s hiding up those pink fucking sleeves of hers, and make her suffer a fate much, much worse than anything she could ever imagine.

Chapter 5 - Rhea

Itry to stop checking the news and focus. This will be on the test, I argue with myself as I sit in the crowded, sunlit, wood-paneled C12, trying to listen to my grandma’s lecture. For a couple of minutes, her clear, authoritative voice manages to hold my attention.

But then I go straight back to whipping my phone out and refreshing my browser.

Nothing.

I have to fight not to let out a frustrated sigh. How am I supposed to work on this story if not even the Daily Chronicle is publishing anything on it? Barring the discussions on whether it should even be discussed, considering the Erasure Law.

So I’ve got nothing. Just a bunch of cuckoo theories from sketchy websites, mostly on how it was exactly that the man by the name of Synn Iarro managed to escape Nasgard. And it really is a head-scratcher. I mean, sure, faes have formidable powers. They have what they call the Fae Realm, places in their minds they can go to when they’re in need of healing. And while shifters are closest to Nature Magic — magic that resides in nature all around us, faes are closest to Divine Magic — the one no one has managed to explain yet. But still, to be able to escape Nasgard?

“Who can tell me,” grandma starts, making me snap out of it and everyone else start fidgeting in their seats, “what variables Brennan uses in his formula for calculating the effect of the Moon on any individual shifter’s strength?”

For a second, there’s silence. Then this nerdy vampire girl whose obsession with my grandma has led her to enroll in all Lycanology classes — those usually reserved for shifters — raises her hand and says in a low, squeaky voice, “Fitness level, adrenaline and moonlight intensity.”

“You’re missing one,” grandma says. She barely even pauses before she turns to look at me. “Rhea?”

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I’ve never been able to explain to her how this makes me come off, her picking me to answer questions any other shifter in the class could answer.

I mean, who doesn’t know that the most important thing about a shifter is their connection with their animal. As the House of Lycan sigil suggests, we’re like two halves of the Moon — one light and one dark, the dark one signifying the animal side of our nature which cannot be separated from who we are.

“Level of connection with your animal,” I answer in a clear, flat voice, successfully fighting embarrassment and ignoring the looks being thrown my way. My wolf lets out a scoff.

“Exactly,” grandma says with a sharp nod. “Now,” she says as she starts getting her stuff, “for this week’s assignment, I want you to create seven different shifter profiles and a graph showing the fluctuation of their strength throughout the course of a previously recorded lunar month. Understood?”

The students murmur their ‘yeses’ and we all start grabbing our stuff and heading for the door. Normally, I’d be feeling self-conscious about leaving the classroom with grandma, but this time… This time I have three weeks worth of frustration to deal with.

So when grandma finally puts all her notes back in her robe pocket and walks up to me, leaning on her staff a bit more than usual, I’m determined to get some advice. But first, I have to tell her what I’m working on.

“I have some exciting news, gran,” I start as we step out of the classroom and onto the crowded hallway.

She glances at me, but keeps walking as she says, matter-of-factly, “Oh, I know all about it.”

There’s a slight smile dancing on her lips. My eyes dart to one of the Wanted Posters plastered on the wall to my right, the man’s narrowed eyes staring at me in that unsettling way of his. “You do?” I ask my gran, feeling even more excited now that I see her reaction. “But how?”

“Edgar told me he got Keller to assign them to you,” she explains as we walk through the entrance hall and straight into the Elevator.

“Oh,” I mutter as she presses the buttons for her office in the Grimm Tower. Interviewing the Chosen. She’s talking about me interviewing the Chosen and Edgar thinking — wrongly — he did something nice for me. Doesn’t matter, I tell myself. “What if I said I have something even better lined up?” I ask with eagerness in my voice. “Something that would make covering the Trials not worth the trouble?”

“Not worth the trouble?“ grandma echoes with a scoff.

It’s at that exact moment that the Elevator stops to let in two first-years, a vampire girl and a shifter guy, in the middle of a heated argument.

“I’m telling you I heard what kind of powers he has,” the guy insists, “and there’s no way he used Decay to escape.”

My grandma clears her throat, making their heads snap to her. I see the girl jab the guy with her elbow and I see him throw a glance at grandma’s infamous staff and then gulp.

I almost let out a laugh. Lyca Moran would probably only need to look at the guy leaving those roses lying around the Academy grounds for me, it’d be enough to make him piss his pants. She’d probably be able to catch Synn Iarro by herself. What are a couple of first-years for someone like her?

They stay silent. For a second, grandma just looks at them with narrowed eyes. Then she lets out an annoyed sigh and turns back to me.

Just as the Elevator door opens and the two poor students dart out, she asks, “What were you saying, Rhea? You had something that would make covering the Trials not worth the trouble, if I recall correctly?”

She always does and she knows it. But now I’m not sure. Her behavior towards the students made me remember how much she believes in the necessity of the Erasure Law.

“It was just an idea I had,” I finally say, “I don’t think I should bother you with it just yet.”

“Perfect,” she says, just as the Elevator door opens again. “Because I’m eager to share some news as well.”

She steps out of the Elevator and stops to wait for me. I frown, but it’s only once I myself am out that I realize we’re not on the fifth floor, where grandma’s office is. We’re on the eleventh.

“Where are we going?” I ask with a frown.

She approaches one of the three doors on the quiet, round landing and takes a key out of her robe pocket. She looks over her shoulder with a mysterious smile tugging at her lips. “My office.”

Directly below the Pied Piper? Speechless, I just remain standing there, watching her unlock the door.

She pushes it open and nudges me in. When I step inside, I can’t help but go, “Wow.”

I see rich, dark wood everywhere around me, light coming through tall, paneled windows and falling in neat squares on forest-green leather armchairs. There’s even a staircase leading to a gallery with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a beautifully arranged spread on the low coffee table right in front of me.

I hear the door close and sense my grandma coming to stand beside me. “Did you know, Rhea darling, that you’re in the presence of the Head of Council?”

I turn to throw her a shocked look. It’s only then that I notice the pin on her robe. The three interconnected loops with a dark stone at the center. Not just the symbol of the Head of Council, but a piece of the element found in the Pull that allows you to travel however you please.

My mind is buzzing in search of the right words. “Congratulations, gran,” is what I end up saying.

She gives me a smile that could almost be considered wide and says, “Make yourself comfortable, I just have one thing to take care of.”

With that, she goes up to her huge mahogany desk and starts rummaging through the drawers. I take the opportunity to look around some more, my eyes landing on a little Lycan shrine she’s set up, identical to the one she has in the house.

Except for one thing. My eyebrows pulling down, I get closer and take the thing in my hand. It looks like it’s made of bone, a carved whistle of some kind.

“Careful with that,” I hear grandma’s voice boom from behind me.

When I turn around, she’s standing next to me, reaching out her hand. “Sorry, gran,” I say as I give the whistle back.

“That’s okay,” she replies as she puts it back in place. “It’s just that it was really expensive.”

That doesn’t make it any different from your other knick-knacks, is what I want to say, but I just throw her an endeared smile.

“Go on, take a seat,” she urges me, motioning at the spread.

“But how is it, gran, that you got the position?” I ask her as I take the chair facing her desk.

She lowers herself in the one opposite me, shaking her head and letting out a scoff. “Simple. The former Head turned out to be an idiot.”

“What did he do?” I ask as I eye the spread. No bread, of course, I think with a sigh.

She leans back in her chair, taking a sip of her red wine with an amused smile on her face. “He wanted the shifter clans to agree to the vampiric Crown wiping their debt towards the Royal Treasury.”

That makes me frown. “Why does that make him an idiot?”

Grandma throws me an incredulous look. “It doesn’t. Thinking we’d let ourselves be in their debt does.”

I have to bite my tongue so as not to get into an argument with her. Just eat, I tell myself as I take one of the carrot sticks and dip it into the white sauce.

“What?” grandma insists. I look up to find her smirking at me. “You honestly think he was suggesting going to them for help because he wanted us to prosper?” She shakes her head. “What he wanted was to trick us into even more devastating servitude.”

“I just think we could all be a bit more cooperative,” I say in a conciliatory tone.

“Rhea, you know what vampires are like,” grandma protests, glancing at the door. “That’s why it honestly makes me a bit worried that the Warden has come. As if there’s not enough talk about the thing already.”

The hand in which I have the carrot stick remains hovering in front of my open mouth. “Wagner is here? Now?”

That makes grandma shake her head. “He is. I don’t know why the Pied Piper agreed to it, but yes, he wanted a meeting.”

What the…

I see grandma take another sip of her wine and then I hear her go back to the subject of her appointment as the Head of Council.

But I’m not present. All I can think about is him being here. Does it prove the rumor, the rumor that, when he was arrested, Synn Iarro was in fact a freshman at Grimm Academy? I guess I’d need to ask him. But as far as I know, he might be leaving as we speak.

I could just tell grandma all about it and ask if we could reschedule the dinner.

Nope. Not a good idea.

But who knows how long this might last, I think as I listen to grandma go on, in excruciating detail.

For a second, I entertain the thought of coming up with an excuse to leave.

Something related to my Trials assignment? Nope, she’d just want to know how it is I’m just remembering it now.

Fine, I think as I grab another carrot stick.

But an hour goes by and she still hasn’t even finished half of the glass of wine she always has with dinner. I can barely stop myself from screaming.

So when there’s a knock at her door, I jump up and blurt out, “Well, that’s my cue, I guess.”

She slowly gets out of her chair. “It would seem so,” she starts, squinting at me. “But what’s going on, Rhea? You don’t seem yourself.”

“What?” I ask with a feigned frown. “It’s just your imagination, gran. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yes, yes, go,” grandma says.

Just to be safe, I make myself walk, not run to the door. I open it and stroll past the student waiting outside, giving him a curt nod.

“Good evening, Professor Moran,” I hear him say as I pause a little, waiting. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

As soon as I hear grandma invite him in and the door close behind him, I break into a sprint, my mind buzzing and my wolf shifting with excitement. If he’s here, he’s in the Pied Piper’s office. Grandma did say he had a meeting with her.

Goddamnit, if I manage to talk to Wagner, the Warden of Nasgard himself, I think as I rush up the stairs... I barge into the twelfth floor reception and come to a screeching halt, resting my palms on my thighs as I try to catch my breath.

As usual, the Pied Piper’s mousy vampire assistant is there, sitting behind her desk and guarding the door to the office of the principal herself.

But she’s on the phone, pressing her lips tight while trying to calm someone down.

I catch her eye, but she just shakes her head at me and keeps talking to the person on the other side of the line.

Letting out an impatient sigh, I glance over at the Pied Piper’s office. The door is open and there seems to be no one inside.

In the name of Lycan, don’t let him be gone already, I pray as I turn on my heel and rush back to the Elevator, where I try to use brute force with the buttons to make them get me to the Pull faster.

The Elevator’s never taken this long, I moan to myself as I shift on my feet.

But as soon as it spits me out into the entrance hall, from where I’ll be able to get to the Pull, I see a glimpse of his signature white suit in the crowd.

Without a moment of hesitation, I start elbowing my way to where he’s headed. “Sir,” I call out.

The person that throws me a fleeting glance over his shoulder is young and frowning. A shifter student who seems to be one of the Drama kids dressed up as a fae-blooded groom. And he’s nothing like the Warden.

Goddamnit, focus, Rhea, I curse internally as I come to a stop, panting and looking around once again. Yes, he wears white suits, but he also has extremely dark skin, silver hair and white eyes. The man couldn’t be more conspicuous.

But he’s not here, I think as I keep scanning the entrance hall. I’m wasting my time. Still breathing heavily, I whip out my phone to try the Pied Piper’s office again.

Thank the Moon, she’s done with that call, I think to myself when the assistant picks up. “The Warden,” I start in a breathless voice, “have you seen the Warden?”

“Um, yes, I have,” she replies hesitantly.

“Where can I find him?”

“Actually, he already left.”

“Left?” I echo, feeling my heart sink. “Like, left the Academy?”

“Yes. Is there anything else?”

“Can I get his contact?” I blurt out.

She lets out a low chuckle. “No, Rhea. You cannot.”

I hear the line break. Did she just hang up on me?

Goddamn it. I’ve missed my chance, I think as I remain standing there, shaking my head and barely registering the students walking in and out of the cafeteria.

Everything’s ruined. I’ve ruined everything. And my grandma fed me goddamn carrot sticks for dinner and now I’m even hungrier than I was before I ate.

I shake my head, feeling disappointed in myself, but not enough to stop marching straight to the cafeteria.

I’m going to have something greasy and filling to make up for all this.

But as soon as I walk inside, my heart starts racing.

I see him. Wagner, sitting at one of the tables, looking over some papers with a cup of coffee in front of him.

How am I this lucky, I wonder as my mouth cracks into a smile and my feet start leading me straight to him.

It’s only when I’m already walking that I notice the tables around him. Despite the huge crowd in the cafeteria, all the ones surrounding him remain empty. It doesn’t really surprise me. He’s enormous, he’s known as one of the most powerful vampires of our time and he doesn’t exactly look friendly.

The closer I get, the more my heart is thumping. I really need to do this right.

No. I’m going to do this right. I know what question I’m focusing on and I know how to do this.

So I keep walking straight at him, rushing to steady my breathing, fix my shirt and check my hair for flyaways.

“Good evening, Warden,” I say as I stop in front of his table.

I wait for a second, but he must be really engrossed in what he’s doing because he doesn’t even look up.

“How are you liking your coffee?” I ask.

To my surprise, he keeps his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him as he lets out a small sigh and then drawls, “I don’t have time for you.”

I see.

“I’m not some student eager to gossip, sir,” I reply in a flat voice, trying to catch his eye, despite his whole look proving to be a little distracting. “I’m a journalist.”

Finally, Wagner looks up, pinning me in place with his white eyes. They send a shiver down my spine, making my wolf shift with unease.

To my surprise, he throws me a red-stained smile. It’s a snarky one, but a smile nevertheless. “A journalist, you say? Really?”

“With the Grimm Academy Gazette, of course,” I rush to say. “The name is Rhea Moran, sir. ”

The smile turns into a frown.

With the corner of my eye, I see a student hesitantly walk up to him. He stops in front of the table and holds out a book with the Forbidden Section sticker on it, saying, “Here it is, sir.”

Wagner doesn’t even spare him a glance. He grabs the book, the name Ó Cathaláin printed on the spine in gold lettering, and waves the student away. The obviously frightened guy doesn’t seem to mind.

“Moran, is it?” the Warden asks as he puts the book in his inside suit pocket. He then takes his papers back in his hands. “I don’t care who you’re related to, Miss. You’re not getting an interview out of me.”

Holy tooth. For a second, I just blink at the man.

But I’m not giving up. So I grit my teeth and I force myself to say, “You know, I’ve done my research on you, sir. And you know what kept coming up?”

He doesn’t look up. He just growls, “Walk. Away.”

But I don’t. Instead, I do something very bold. Very bold indeed.

I grab the chair opposite him, I pull it out and I take a seat.

Wagner looks up, his eyes narrowing, but there’s a flash of surprise in them. Now I’ve got his actual attention. “What kept coming up is your reputation as the most honorable Warden of Nasgard ever.”

For a second, a smile dances on his red-stained lips. He lets out a sigh, pushes the papers away and leans back in his chair. “It’s not the most difficult reputation to achieve, considering the predecessors.”

“Oh, I disagree,” I insist, struggling not to let myself get drunk on my success too soon. “The position comes with so much power that’s so easy to abuse. That’s exactly why some say you’re the only honorable Warden Nasgard has ever had.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Miss Moran,” he cuts me off.

“It’s not flattery, it’s a segue into my point,” I rush to say.

He squints at me.

“Almost as soon as the news of the escape broke out, the faculty put protection spells on all of us. And now you’re here, sir, fresh out of a meeting with the Pied Piper.” I force myself to pause for a second so as not to sound too eager. “I think it’s only fair to let the students of Grimm Academy know if they have something to fear. If, at some point, they could stumble on the man. Don’t you think?”

I hold my breath, watching him inhale deeply, thinking.

“Me being here, Miss Moran,” he starts, making me go still as a painting, “that’s just a precaution. And even if it weren’t, your Academy is one of the most heavily protected institutions in all our territories.”

“But we’re talking about the man who managed to escape Nasgard,” I rush to say. “What would a couple of standard-issue protective spells mean to him?”

It makes my heart skip a beat, when I see his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. “Do you know what kind of place Nasgard is, Miss Moran?”

“I’ve never been.”

“Exactly,” he cuts me off.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact, he takes a small snuff box out of his waistcoat pocket and grabs a pinch of redleaf. Then he slides it between his gums and his upper lip, the coagulated blood mixed with the tobacco probably to blame for all the red stains.

My wolf shifts in discomfort, making me frown.

“You all think,” he continues in a low, tense voice, “because you grew up listening to stories and because you read somewhere that Dante confused it for hell, that you know what you’re talking about when you say the name. But let me tell you one thing.”

I have to fight not to gulp when he leans a bit forward, sliding his arms down the table as he keeps his eyes locked on mine. My wolf lets out a low growl.

“It’s impossible for any of the people there to leave. So no, the man you’re talking about did not escape Nasgard. You would do well to remember that.”

My wolf lets out a laugh. Wow. You know what you should do, sweetness? You should ask the man if he knows what denial is.

I don’t. But it is becoming hard for me to stay calm in the face of all this stupidity. Don’t, I tell myself. But I don’t listen. “Did you let him go then?” I ask, realizing a bit too late that I sound smirking.

He just looks at me for a second, gritting his teeth. “You think this is funny?” he asks in a low growl.

My heart skips a beat. “No,” I start, snapping out of it, but he doesn’t let me finish.

“Congratulations,” he drawls menacingly as he gets out of his chair, grabs an elaborately carved walking stick and comes to tower over me, “you’re as dim-witted and grating as any actual journalist.”

My wolf snaps her teeth at him. Let me out, she demands. Forcing myself to ignore her, I say, “I apologize, sir,” as I rush to get out of my chair as well. “But if you’d only spare one more moment…”

He gets in my face. “I want you to never speak to me again. And whatever I told you just now, I’m forbidding you to use it, understood, girl?”

With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving both me and my wolf shaking with anger.

Chapter 6 - Rhea

Forcing myself to keep a straight face but furiously gritting my teeth, I practically run out of the cafeteria. Grating? Dim-witted? Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to approach that man, I scold myself as I let my feet take me into the Elevator.

You’re really going to let him talk to us that way, my wolf drawls angrily as the door closes in front of my face.

There’s no us, I hiss at her as I slam the button that will take me outside, huffing and puffing as I shift on my feet. I want to scream, that’s what I want to do.

I don’t give a fuck. Get your ass back there and show the man what we’re made of.

Back there? You do realize this is your fault?

My fault? She lets out a mocking laugh. Oh, enlighten me, sweetness.

I ignore her, inhaling deeply in the hopes of calming myself down. The Elevator door opens and I dart out into the gathering dusk, rushing down the same old path through the castle gardens. I just need to push through it and keep ignoring her until I’m tucked safely in the grove.

But my wolf lets out a bitter laugh. She doesn’t need me to answer to know what I’m thinking. You seriously think, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have talked to the Warden that way?

Do you have some other version of the events, I snap as I walk on autopilot.

Well, I sure as hell didn’t force your fucking mouth.

Only because I didn’t let you. But let me tell you, from now on, we’ll be doing things differently.

Oh really?

Yeah, you sticking your nose out whenever I get even the tiniest bit excited? You can forget about that.

And I make an attempt at shoving her away just as I’m almost at my destination.

Well, there’s nothing you can do about it, she growls and pushes back.

I enter the cover of my favorite sycamore grove and stop walking.

Oh yes, there is, I tell her as I double my effort, my hands balling into fists. If I need to shove all my feelings so deep down, they never see the light of day, so be it. I’m not hearing another word from your depraved mouth.

To my surprise, she stills. What the fuck did you just say to me, she demands in a threatening voice. You know what, I sure as fucking hell don’t like it and you can try to deny it as much as you want, but I am you, you stupid, stuck-up, grating little excuse for a shifter.

The words flip a switch inside me. Hot blood rushing to my cheeks, I yell out at the top of my lungs, “You are not me.”

And I shove her deeper inside.

There’s a moment of silence. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking I’ve managed to stop her just in time.

And just as my muscles begin to relax, I feel her start thrashing inside me with a loud, obnoxious roar.

Stop it or I swear to you, I snarl as I reach my hand into my bag, I’ll do it.

And it’s not the first time I’ve threatened her with that, but it’s the first time it doesn’t work.

‘No’ is the only word going through my mind as I feel the onset. She’s struggling to take over and she’s winning. My senses start to sharpen and my skin prick with all the fur trapped inside.

It’s at that very moment that a shrill little female voice yells out, “Careful, she’s shifting.”

Instantly, my wolf stops thrashing. Suddenly on high alert, she starts furiously sniffing at the air around us.

I let her. Then I grab the opportunity, I grit my teeth and I shove her deep inside.

Panting, I collapse to the ground, I rummage through my bag and pop a pill to calm myself down.

“Not shifting,” the voice calls out again. “False alarm. False alarm.”

I push myself up, frowning. “Hello?” I respond as my eyes dart left and right in search of the sound.

“Hello,” the voice echoes.

“Who’s there?” I insist, my breathing still heavy. I do a three-sixty, but the grove is as deserted as usual.

“She can hear me?” Whoever she is, there’s a tinge of suspicion in her voice.

My head snaps back to the center, where it seems to be coming from. My eyes search the forgotten, decrepit little gazebo, its metal dome a tangle of rusty but delicate vines, its stone pillars all covered in lichen. But it’s still empty, only a single raven perched on the crumbling railing.

“Show yourself,” I demand.

“She can hear me,” the voice booms again, sounding a little surprised this time.

My eyes dart to the raven, my eyebrows pulling down when I see her elegant black head jerking left-right as the eyes stare straight into mine.

For a second, I just blink at her. Even when they communicate with them, birds do not talk like people do.

I take a deep breath, struggling to control the urge to yell at my wolf for messing with my brain. It’s not the best idea right now, I tell myself. So I just let out a frustrated groan and I move to walk up to the gazebo.

“She’s coming, she’s coming,” I hear the voice again just as I see the bird flit away and land on a branch brushing against one of the pillars.

I throw her a cautious stare. Goddamn it, she’s staring at me…

For a second, I consider leaving. But I’m still pissed off and besides, what am I going to do? Let a bird force me out of my grove?

So I walk up the steps and sit on the top one.

Still, when I whip my phone out, the first thing I do is open the browser and type, ‘Can you have a nervous breakdown without knowing it?’ I start scrolling in search of reassurance.

“Why was she yelling at her wolf?” I hear the raven ask.

I stop scrolling. I feel my eyes narrow even before I turn to look at her, finding her still staring at me with her head tilted to the side. “How did you know it’s a wolf?” I ask in a low voice.

“By her growl,” the bird replies matter-of-factly. “Why was she yelling at her wolf?” she repeats herself.

“You could hear her?” I ask. “How?”

“I don’t know,” the raven says. “Why was she yelling at her wolf?” she repeats, again, like a broken record.

“Because her wolf wanted to come out and she’s not allowed to come out,” I snap.

And I even mimicked her use of the third person. Goddamnit, I think as I turn back to my phone, starting to contemplate calling grandma.

But another question instantly follows. “Why isn’t her wolf allowed to come out?”

I let out a sigh and turn to look at her. She’s still staring, the head now tilted to the other side. “You’re a nosy one, aren’t you?” I pause, struggling to find words for something that’s been with me my whole life. “It’s a condition, a hereditary condition. It makes shifting dangerous for me. Hell, I’m not even supposed to get too excited,” I add with a bitter laugh.

“What happens when she does?”

I tug on the collar of my shirt, revealing my birthmark to her. “The Devil comes out,” I tell her in a dramatic voice. At least that’s what the people in the village used to say.

To my surprise, the raven just blinks at me. She doesn’t say anything.

Thank Lycan, I think to myself as I turn to my phone again. My thoughts immediately rush back to the breakout. The Warden was my only hope, so now that I’ve messed it up with him, what exactly am I supposed to do?

I feel her take flight and come to perch closer to me, on the railing to my left. I choose to ignore her. There’s a moment of silence before she asks, “Does he come out through the birthmark?”

“It’s just a figure of speech,” I reply without looking up from my phone. He did have that book brought to him, I think to myself. I type Ó Cathaláin into the search bar.

“What’s it like to be a person?”

“Can’t you see I’m doing something?” I snap as I look up.

The bird just looks at me. Sighing, I go back to scrolling. I find absolutely no results besides social media profiles of seemingly random people. What about the book, I wonder.

“What is she doing?” the raven insists.

I shake my head. “Grasping at straws.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is.”

There’s a second of silence before she asks, “Does she eat them?”

I snort out a laugh and look up. “No, I don’t. And it’s not…” I pause, struggling not to keep chuckling as I look at the bird, her stare all somber and inquisitive. “She has a name, you know, and the name is Rhea.”

“What does Rhea do with straws?”

Despite myself, I let out another chuckle. “Nevermind that. I’m trying to find information on someone, a person by the name Ó Cathaláin.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve nothing else to go on,” I say with pent-up frustration in my voice.

“Has she read his books?”

I just look at her for a second. “Have I read his books?” I frown. “How do you know he’s written books?”

“Because I’ve read them,” she replies matter-of-factly.

My eyebrows pull down. “You can read?”

“Yes.”

“What are you?” I ask in a breathless voice.

“Raven.”

Of course, how did I not see that, I bitch to myself. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Raven,” I start, noticing the bird puff her chest out. It’s cute, but it doesn’t make it any less weird, what I’m about to do. “So, what can you tell me about the books?”

“There are three of them, Rhea,” Raven starts, making me lean forward with bated breath. “The first was written in 1872, the second in 1874 and the third in…”

“No, no, not that,” I cut her off. “That’s just random information, Raven.”

I expect her to keep talking, but she doesn’t. She just looks at me in silence. And for some reason, I get the distinct feeling that I’ve offended her.

Goddamnit. I wave my hands, saying, “I’m so sorry, Raven. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

She tilts her head.

“Whatever you can tell me about the books, I’ll be so, so grateful.”

The bird puffs out her chest again. “I can tell you they’re about a lost prophecy.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “A lost prophecy concerning someone breaking out of Nasgard?”

“No, concerning the harnessing of Lycan’s power.”

I frown. “Well, I guess he was doing research for some other case,” I say to myself.

“Who is he, Rhea?” Raven asks.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know everything?” I reply with a smile.

“I would, yes,” she replies.

That makes me laugh. But the dusk is turning into actual night all around us, which I take as my cue to go. I get up and say, “Raven, you can’t tell anyone about what happened here. With my wolf, I mean.”

“I cannot?” she asks. “Why, Rhea?”

“Because it’s our little secret,” I whisper.

“I have a secret?” She pauses, looking surprised, as far as surprise in birds goes. “I’ve always wanted one.”

I let out a chuckle. “There you go,” I say with a conspiratorial smile as I turn to walk away.

“Good bye, Rhea.”

“Bye, Raven.”

As I walk out of the grove and start on the path leading back to the castle, I can’t help but wonder if I’m losing my goddamn mind. A talking raven… No, a talking raven that’s more well-read than most students. Also, the incident with my wolf, which I still have to process. And I shouldn’t forget the fallout with the Warden of goddamn Nasgard himself.

Just thinking about him makes me pissed off all over again. Dim-witted, for him to call me dim-witted…

I’ll show him, I think to myself as I go, the anger making me pick up the pace and barely register my surroundings. In my mind, step by glorious step, I’ve found and caught Synn Iarro myself, organized the most attended press conference in all of history and made Wagner attend just so the escaped prisoner could tell him to his face that he did indeed escape.

What snaps me out of my delicious daydream is my wolf shifting inside me and the distinct feeling of someone watching me. My eyebrows pulling down, I stop and look around.

Then I freeze. There he is, the man who followed me here on the first day of school. Lurking from the cover of a crumbling archway around halfway from the grove to the Lycan Tower. Staring at me like he did the first and the second and the third time. And then dropping another blood-drenched rose to the ground.

For a second, my mind goes blank. Then rage floods my body. Wrong day, he’s picked the wrong goddamn day.

And just as he turns to creep off into the forest, I inhale deeply and start marching up to him, yelling out, “Hey, you!”

I see him glance over his shoulder and stop.

Just you wait, I growl to myself as I keep marching.

He seems to hesitate for a second. But then I see him lift his hand and touch his collarbone. Runes?

I frown, but the very next second, the man disappears into thin air. I stop midstep, holding my breath. He reappears so close, it makes me stumble back. But I can still see his face so clearly.

My heart skips a beat.

The scars, the dirty shirt, but more than anything else, the eyes. The intense, unyielding, savage look they’re throwing me makes my skin break out in goosebumps. My wolf goes wild inside me, but I just keep standing there, frozen in place.

Then the eyes narrow. “Boo.”

That’s the only thing Synn Iarro says to me, and it’s more of a whisper, but all of a sudden, my heart is pounding against my chest and I’m turning on my heel, catching a smile tugging at his lips and running, tripping as I run the hell away from there, a strange thrill coursing through my veins.

Chapter 7 - Synn

The alarm I set up goes off, making me put down the yellowed papers with my notes. My body is going through yet another phase of rebellion against me denying it a visit to Fae Realm, my head swimming and my skin burning up.

Still, it’s seven fifteen PM and it’s time to go. I jump up off the dirty floor and go look out the only window in my hiding spot. I try not to linger on what I’m about to do. It’s better when I don’t. But the thought still invades my mind.

If I didn’t do it, if I just stayed here, I’d probably live. I could wait for them to forget all about me. Move on to some other juicy story they could preoccupy their delusional minds with. And I could just… keep living, somehow.

Except that the Warden will never let it go.

Except that I wouldn’t visit Fae Realm regardless.

Except that the thought of getting my revenge is the only thing keeping me breathing.

Yes, I think as I grab the stuff from the corner opposite my makeshift bed. She ruined my entire fucking life, I remind myself, and she did it all to stop me from reporting her. Just to avoid paying for her own crime, she was perfectly willing to condemn a man to an eternity in hell.

Determined, I walk up to the trap door in the middle of the room.

I lift it and come into a crouch, peering inside. As usual, no signs of life in the shaft. Just the weathered wooden ladder disappearing into the darkness.

I place my palms on the floor and I lift my legs up, feeling a twinge in my stomach. It’s just phantom pain, I tell myself. The wound is healed, it’s been healed for a while now. Just keep your mind empty.

On my hands, I walk as close to the shaft as I can. My muscles straining, I reach for one of the rungs and I grip it, tight.

As soon as I start going down the ladder, head first, the world turns upside down and just like that, I’m climbing up. Up and into the growing darkness of the shaft.

I don’t let myself think about it, what might be lurking on the other side. I just climb until I reach the door.

I pause for a second, my ears straining.

But there’s only silence.

I lift my hand to use my Runes, but I stop before it can actually touch them. Even after all these weeks, I can’t help but think it won’t work. I can’t help but think that, this time, I’ll find, once again, that I’m too weak to use my powers.

So when I finally tap the Tension Rune — manipulating the tension of the air around me to make myself invisible to the eye, my eyes immediately dart down, where my legs should be. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that they’re not there.

A smile tugging at my lips, I inhale deeply, reach to grab the doorknob and push the door slightly ajar. The rusty hinges creak, but other than that, I hear no sound.

My muscles tensing up, I step out into the hallway. Softly, despite the thick red carpet, because I can still be heard.

As always, the first thing I spot is the portrait of Vasilisa the Wise. I stop to look around.

The Grimm Academy hallway seems to be as deserted and dimly lit as usual.

I squint to my left and only see the rows of solid-wood doors leading into classrooms, paintings and sconces hanging off the stone walls between them, until they disappear into the shadows.

When I turn my eyes to the right, the light grows stronger, the hallway opening up onto one of the galleries overlooking the entrance hall.

Perfect, this is just perfect, I think as I glance at my watch. In exactly ten minutes, as punctual as she is, Kitten will be coming to wait in front of the classroom that’s only three hallways down.

I start stalking over there, but just as I’m about to reach the gallery, I hear someone let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of paper tearing fills the air. I stop midstep.

A couple of seconds later, I see the person, a professor with an annoyed look on his face, turn the corner and continue on his way.

For a second, I hesitate. Then I keep stalking and when I reach the hallway he’d just walked out of, my eyes land on the bulletin board.

I glance at my watch even though I know I have time. I creep up to the board and see the usual Wanted Posters with my face on them covering almost half of it. But there’s an empty spot with a tack that’s still holding a piece of ripped paper. I look down, spotting a waste basket on the carpeted floor.

My eyebrows pulling down, I glance left and right to make sure no one will see a piece of crumpled paper floating in the air. Then I take it out of the trash and flatten it. It’s a brightly colored flier.

The more I read, the more my eyebrows shoot up. What the hell do they think they’re doing? Students organizing a hunt for me?

When I read the part where it says where I’ve last been sighted, I almost fail to suppress a laugh. Silberwald? A town miles and miles from here?

“The Warden being unable to catch Iarro,” the flier says, “doesn’t mean we will be. If you’re interested in participating, getting your piece of the reward and making sure you get on the path to glory, join us at the entrance hall on Friday, December 9th, at 8 AM sharp.”

My eyes fix on ‘path to glory’. My jaw clenches as hot anger starts coursing through my veins. I ought to fucking kill them all. I ought to kill them in the worst way imaginable so they get exactly what they wished for.

I stop myself a second before my clenched fist slams into the wall. I don’t have time for this, I snap. I don’t have time for these sheltered little shits and their fucking delusions of grandeur. On Friday, I tell myself, Silberwald is going to host a bunch of bitterly disappointed Grimm Academy students. And that’s all there is to it.

With a lot more force than necessary, I crumple the flier back up and toss it into the trash.

Then I go back to work, to making my way to A7, where Kitten is about to arrive for her evening class. And it won’t be a regular one, I think to myself, excitement filling my lungs.

This time, when I peek around the corner, I see she’s already there, standing with her back leaning on the wall to the right of the classroom door. But a few others are there as well, chatting away as they wait. So early… I guess I’m not the only one eager for this class to start.

There’ll be no roses today. Just a dead Kitten and the realization of all my remaining dreams and hopes.

I glance around the hallway, checking if my plan for getting into the classroom with them is still feasible. But as soon as I do that, my eyes are drawn back to Kitten. Everyone else is of no consequence. It doesn’t surprise me when, instead of joining the general chuckling, she takes out her notes and starts scanning them, her face a poster for unbroken focus.

I take the time to soak up as many details as possible. I find no hair out of place, no wrinkle on her shirt, no worry on her face. Picture perfect, that’s what she seems to be. And all I want to do is swing at her, again and again and again, until the mask is crushed to bits and all that’s left is the rotten core hidden underneath.

Right now, that’s all the pleasure I get from life. Remembering the moment I showed myself to her near the Lycan Forest.

In my mind’s eye, I see the shock and fear appear on her face. Then I visualize her running away from me. That gave me so much satisfaction that it took all I had not to do it again and again and again.

But I guess I may as well have done it, as many times as I wanted. My eyes narrowing as they stay glued to her face, for the billionth time I think about the fact she never told anyone. At least not the Authority. Not about that one time I let her see my face, not about any of the times before or after.

Then again, no one else might know what she did, but I do. So it shouldn’t really come as a surprise that she kept her mouth shut.

What snaps me out of it is seeing her whip her phone out and her eyes dart left right, a frown scrunching up her face.

“Canceled?” I hear the wiry girl with a pixie voice her disappointment.

“Figures,” the guy with a jock vibe says as my eyes dart to their little group. “I should’ve known we wouldn’t actually be doing anything fun.”

My jaw clenches at the very thought of my plan falling through. They were supposed to meet to practice magic and they were supposed to take the protection spells off to do it.

“Come on,” the tall, ripped girl with a ponytail tries to appease the rest of the group, “he’ll just reschedule.”

“Yeah right,” the pixie girl snaps. “It was weird enough he was going to let us dabble in that kind of magic in the first place. It’s not part of the synopsis.”

I turn my eyes back onto Kitten. She’s putting her notes away, seeming entirely unbothered. But then again, it’s why I’m here in the first place, her not being one of those shifters taking every chance they get to show off their animal.

“We should just do the exercise ourselves,” I hear the jock suggest as I keep watching Kitten.

As soon as he says it, her eyes snap up to him. She’s squinting in a way that makes me frown in anticipation. What is this?

She walks up to the guy, who’s twice her size, and demands, “Are you out of your mind?”

“Who asked for your opinion, Moran?” the pixie girl snaps at her.

“Let’s go,” the jock says as he starts leaving, the rest of them following suit. “I know the perfect spot to do this.”

“Not gonna happen,” Kitten protests as she rushes to get in his way, folding her arms and frowning as if she’s talking to a bunch of unruly children. “I know you must think you’re all being so cool, but this only makes you stupid.”

As I watch her, my eyes narrow and I feel myself hold my breath. It’s Kitten finally showing she has claws.

I hear the rest of them snigger and the pixie girl say, “Well, you trying to stop us only makes you a jealous bitch.”

I see Kitten press her lips tight and throw the girl such a disapproving look. “To do this exercise, you’d need to remove the protection spells.”

So I was right, I think to myself. If they convince her, I might get what I came for after all.

“And you’re not doing that,” Kitten orders. “We’re all getting out of here, right now.”

Fucking hell, ruining my fucking plan.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, darling,” the jock cuts in, coming to tower over her. “Until you actually learn how to shift, I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Learn how to shift? That makes me frown.

I see Kitten lower her arms to her sides and shake her head. “Well, when you inevitably get stuck in your animal forms, remember not to blame it on me.”

But they’re already walking away, one of the girls glancing over her shoulder to say, “Why don’t you go tattle to your grandma.”

My mind buzzing, I barely register her words. I keep watching Kitten as she takes a deep breath and moves to walk in my direction, in the direction of the gallery, her lips pressed tight again.

Then it hits me.

She’s hiding her powers.

My eyes narrow. Smart, that’s smart. But considering how my first and only conversation with her went, why did I ever let myself underestimate her?

I still don’t know how she figured it out from that one interaction, I think to myself as I watch her get closer. She was fifteen, we only exchanged a couple of sentences and I never even mentioned the proof I had of her crime. Still, she managed to figure it out and set me up in the cleverest way.

And now she’s about to walk straight past me. Quickly but soundlessly, I take a few steps back. A whiff of her scent drifts over to me as she makes her way to the gallery. It’s soft and fresh, like summer breeze.

Now what? The very thought of returning to the Upside-Down Place without having got rid of the bitch, again, is making me livid.

Just as she starts going down the stairs leading into the entrance hall, her phone buzzes.

I start after her, soundlessly, my eyes fixed on her back as my ears strain to hear the conversation.

Her voice sounds tired when she says, “Thanks, but I’m beat. I’m going straight to my room.”

My eyebrows shoot up, a thrill rushing through my body. The route to the Lycan Tower, that’s one I still haven’t secured. And my magic might not hold out.

But who’s to say she doesn’t remove the protection spells when she’s in her room, all alone?

I stop just as she reaches the lowest step and starts walking down the entrance hall and straight towards the Elevator. Unlike the hallways I just left, this part of the castle is still crowded. It’s no way for me to follow her.

I’ll have to be extra careful, using two types of magic at the same time — Tension for invisibility and Movement for getting around. Glancing around, I lift my hand to my Runes and take a moment to remember the most deserted ways out of the castle and into the Tower. Down the stairs to that place the vampires used to hook up in, through the only sewer shaft with faulty protection magic and all the way down the edge of the Lycan Forest.

Fifty four. I know her room number is fifty four, which means I’ll also have to climb up to the fifth floor.

I grit my teeth and, without another moment of hesitation, I tap the Movement Rune. There’s the sound, there’s always the sound, but my body darts forward so fast, it doesn’t matter even if someone heard it.

Moments later, I’m coming to a stop in the currently empty fifth-floor common room, a mess of colorful armchairs, books, board games and flags with the House of Lycan sigil. Struggling to keep myself from panting, I watch Kitten reach for the doorknob to number fifty four.

Then she glances over her shoulder.

My heart skips a beat. Fuck, she can see me.

But her eyes don’t land on mine. She just glances around the room, a frown on her face.

I have to fight not to breathe a sigh of relief. It was just the sound, she must have heard the sound.

The next thing I know, she’s turning back to the door.

As I prepare to dart into her room with her, I feel I can no longer do it using magic. I’ve overestimated myself. And if my Tension Magic fails me as well, while I’m in there, with god knows what kinds of protection spells?

She opens the door and for a second, I hesitate.

But if I get to see her break the spells they put on her…

Just before she enters, I go for it.

Once I’m inside, I glue myself to the right of her door as she closes it and flips the lightswitch.

But she doesn’t walk away. Holding my breath, I crane my neck ever so slightly. She’s standing so close with one hand still on the doorknob and her back pressed against the door itself. She’s staring ahead and breathing heavily, her chest falling up and down in a slow, tense rhythm.

My eyebrows pull down, my body flooding with nervous energy as I realize I’ve never seen her like this.

Could it be happening? Am I actually going to witness her shift?

I don’t know, but the need to find out is so strong, I feel it in every fiber of my being.

I only exhale when I see her pull away from the door in one sharp movement, throw her bag on her bed and kick off her shoes.

My eyes narrowing, I watch her start pacing up and down, seemingly immersed in some inner monologue. Out there, except with her grandmother, she has this… energy about her that makes her seem so perfectly composed and virtuous at all times.

But in here, right now, that look on her face, nostrils flaring and feet stomping…

Two-faced, just as I thought she’d be.

She peels off her cardigan, throws it on the floor and comes to a stop in the middle of her room, her hands balled into fists and her cheeks flushed with anger. Even prettier when she’s about to lose control.

Now, I have a feeling it’s going to happen now. I hold my breath in anticipation.

But she just marches up to her mirror and comes to a stop in front of it. Still breathing heavily, she fixes her eyes on her reflection and just keeps standing there. For some reason, I imagine her lift a scolding finger at herself.

I realize it’s not going to happen. But there’s no disappointment, just my mind buzzing. I’m in her room and she’s all alone. My heart starting to pump wildly, I let my eyes drag down her body, lingering on the waist, the love handles, that ass.

For a second, I imagine myself throwing her on the bed, spreading those thighs apart and making her take me whole with her tits in my mouth.

Unable to tear my eyes away, I’m being pulled towards her, walking softer than ever before.

Closing the distance between us, I ball my hands into fists, thinking how no one could blame me for it, her ruining my entire fucking life and then looking like that, promising to feel so good.

I’m just an arm’s length away when she lifts her hand, making me freeze in place. She pulls the scrunchie off her head, letting a mass of rich, dark hair fall onto her shoulders in soft waves.

I have to fight not to take in a sharp breath. As I drag my eyes down what was just a little bun a second ago, my heart skips a beat then tightens in my chest.

But there’s something else that demands my attention. She keeps standing there, staring at herself with such a strange look in her eyes. I see rage turn to disgust, disgust to sadness.

One by one, all the thorns fall away, leaving only soft fatigue.

She moves away from the mirror, making me almost stumble back, frowning at the need growing inside me. The burning need to have those eyes on me.

Then I see her hands move to her chest and her fingers start to work on unbuttoning her shirt.

Blood rushing to my face, for a second, I stay frozen in place.

No, no, no.

I tap the Movement Rune, and open and close her door with a loud bang.

I go as fast as I can, my mind blank and the path a blur.

Now I’m back at the hiding spot, panting, frowning.

There’s something in my throat, my lungs, my stomach. A pressure that’s keeping me silent even now that I don’t need to be, and all at the same time, it’s agony… and it’s ecstasy.

Chapter 8 - Rhea

Ihear the sound again, like a propeller of some old machine whirring, and I stop taking my shirt off, frowning.

The very next second, there’s a loud bang and I startle, my head snapping to the door. I could swear that the bang was the sound of it closing.

And it is closed. But I know I didn’t leave it open when I first came in.

The thought makes my breath catch. Could it be him?

No, I tell myself, still staring at the door. I’ve never seen him anywhere inside the castle.

Still, I cautiously walk up to the door and turn the key. Maybe I should make a habit of locking the room. Lycan knows it wouldn’t be for nothing.

Goddamnit, I think with a sigh as I throw myself on the bed. As if I weren’t anxious enough to begin with. As if I didn’t just have that heartwarming interaction with Aonghas and the bunch and then had to fight with my wolf again.

And what, now I’m supposed to just sit down and focus on my work, I think as I lift my head off the pillow to glance at my desk. The very thought of trying to catch up with the Chosen so I could write yet another piece on their preparations for the First Round… It sickens me.

But yes, that’s what I’m supposed to do, so I’ll do it. I’ll just do it from here, I conclude and whip my phone out without getting out of bed.

I start scrolling through the social media profiles of all the most popular Chosen this year. The gorgeous, deadly vampire Anneliese, the braindead, freakishly strong shifter Cormac and the smirking, nimble fae-blooded Nym.

But the more I scroll, the more my mind refuses to focus on their strategies for winning and tips for keeping their figures for the Winter Solstice Ball.

All I can do is keep glancing at the door, picturing finding one of his things waiting for me outside. I gulp, unease spreading through my body. He wouldn’t, I tell myself. He no longer does that without me seeing him leaving them, as if he gets some kind of sick pleasure from it.

Then again, since I first saw his face, since I realized that the man following me was Synn Iarro himself, he’s never once gotten that close. The thought makes a chill run down my spine. The thought of him watching me without me being aware of it.

I let out a frustrated breath and get off the bed. I don’t think I can stay here right now. I need to see it with my own two eyes, that there are people outside going about their business, that the world is not just unsettling sounds, blood-drenched roses and escaped prisoners.

I grab my cardigan off the floor, where I threw it while still fighting with my wolf. And I put it back on, I grab my bag and I walk up to the door, slipping on my shoes. She’s still pouting, but I can sense she wants to go.

I walk out into the empty common room and I start down the stairs, not knowing exactly where I’m headed. For a second, I contemplate going to find Raven.

Then I remind myself it’s a raven I’m thinking of. I guess it’s nothing strange, to have a talking one here at Grimm Academy, but it sure would be strange if I started treating her as my confidant.

So I decide to take a short walk, maybe grab a late dinner and then go back, refreshed and ready to focus.

But when I get back to the entrance hall, I find the castle deserted. There are only a few students leaving the cafeteria and one professor talking on the phone up on the gallery.

I stop right next to the Brothers’ Grimm statue and look around, frowning. It’s only then that it hits me.

The training session. I did see Anneliese post that all twenty seven Chosen are planning on meeting up tonight for the last session before the First Round.

No wonder even the common room was empty. Should I go? I just stand there, trying to decide. No student in their right mind is going to let themselves miss the last opportunity to see who to bet on. But it’d be such a hassle, elbowing my way through the crowd to find a seat, straining my ears to hear the commentator over all the chatter and the yelling, suffering through all the breaks between the fights. And I don’t really care about any of it, I’d just get annoyed by them always ending up making the same old bets.

Yeah, no thanks, I conclude as I keep roaming the entrance hall. I don’t really need to watch people betting on the vampire to come in first, because they’re all so intelligent, or the shifter to make the most noise, because they’re all so courageous. I also don’t need to watch them not betting on the fae because they’re all too principled to play dirty.

I mean, I rant to myself as I keep walking, what about the Broken Fae, as they’re now calling him. Synn Iarro may be an extreme example, but how many faes do we currently have walking the Earth that have in one way or the other broken Ydril’s Law — the law that forbids faes from ever hurting another being?

But I don’t want to think about him now, not even marginally. It’s bad enough I have to ignore the Wanted Posters fighting for my attention from walls, columns and bulletin boards.

To make sure I don’t give in, I stop by the painting of the Faust family, one of the most powerful royal families in all our territories. So powerful, in fact, that they almost single-handedly stopped the Second World War from turning into an even bigger disaster.

Then, I take a moment to scrutinize the bust of the Academy’s first Pied Piper ever, the formidable fae-blooded Zahra. There’s the elaborately carved flute in her hand. The flute she made and used to bring all the children lost in the Scion lands back to where they belonged, to the sanctuary that was Grimm Academy before it ever became an Academy. It was just one of the many places we used to hide in, before the Brothers Grimm unveiled our existence to the rest of the world.

By the time I reach one of my favorite statues, the one right next to the staircase leading up to the gallery, I’m feeling much more at peace. I let my eyes drag down the old shifter’s robe, admiring the way the stone’s been made to look like it’s billowing in the wind. There’s the slight smile curling his lips, the smile that always makes me wonder what it was like back then. When an Original could pose as a human and make them believe he was God's chosen.

I mean, he was, in a way, I think with a smile. It’s just that the Scions got the name of the god wrong. Lycan is every living being all at once, which makes him much scarier and more unpredictable than anything they could’ve imagined.

Eager to get even more immersed in something other than my own troubles, I climb the stairs to the gallery, its wood-paneled walls covered in paintings from floor to ceiling.

But as soon as my foot lands on the top step, I see him. I see Synn Iarro stalk in my direction and then disappear into a hallway to his left.

I remain standing there with one hand on the elaborately carved railing, my heart pounding wildly.

Just leave, I tell myself. In the name of Lycan, just leave, Rhea.

But there’s that thrill urging me ahead. For a second, I hesitate. But before I can even make a conscious decision, I find myself walking after him, my heart slowing down but my breathing heavy.

I stop just before the hallway he went into, gluing my back to the wall and inhaling deeply to prepare for whatever I’m about to see.

Then I lean around the corner, just enough to throw a glance, my heart starting to race again so loudly, I hear it in my ears.

It’s not him. I frown and breathe a sigh of relief at the same time. I watch the guy finish putting something on the bulletin board and turn to walk back. I just keep standing there, still unable to calm my breathing.

Then the guy comes out of the hallway, spots me, throws me a suspicious little “Hey” and continues on his way.

I could’ve at least nodded, I scold myself. But the guy looks nothing like Synn Iarro, I think with a frown. How could I have made a mistake like that? Am I really letting him mess with my head that much?

No, not him. At least, not exactly, I conclude as I decide to check out the hallway anyway. It’s not Synn Iarro I’m interested in. What I really want to know is why he’s choosing to stalk me. Not some hot woman or rich guy or powerful government official. Me.

Walking down the hallway the guy just paid a visit to, I see there’s no one else there. It’s no wonder. It’s just a rarely used, entirely ordinary hallway. But as I look around, it hits me that that might be the reason I never told anyone.

I never told anyone about the escaped prisoner showing his face to me. I never told anyone about any of the times he appeared somewhere in my vicinity. And it did bug me, why I chose not to. But right now, it all seems so clear.

If I did, they would’ve caught him and they would’ve taken him back to Nasgard. And the thought of that is simply unbearable, the thought of never finding out why he did it. Why he stalked me and why he left me those roses.

And I know I’d never find out. Especially considering what I realized after he finally showed his face.

It was September 1st when he broke out. According to Wagner at least.

But it was a whole week before, the first time he left a rose for me to find.

And when I spoke to him, what did Wagner say? He insisted that Synn Iarro didn’t escape.

So, there’s definitely something weird going on, I think to myself as I keep walking down the hallway. And it is possible, I tell myself, for the millionth time, trying to justify this gut feeling I have, that he was telling the truth. Synn Iarro didn’t escape, at least not without help. Wagner’s help.

But why would he do that?

It’s at that exact moment that I feel a chill rush up my spine, my wolf letting out a low snarl.

My breath catching, I stop and glance around the deserted, dimly lit hallway.

There’s no one here, I tell myself, but it feels like such a lie as my eyes wander down the line of creepy portraits lining the walls, their stares making it seem like there’s an army following my every move.

Then I hear the sound. The weird, echoing dripping. And I spin around in its direction, only to find the bulging, dead serious eyes of Vasilisa the Wise staring at me from her portrait.

For a second, I just look at her. Then I let out a shaky breath as I bend over and rest my palms on my thighs, trying to calm down.

Nope, not going to let yourself be scared to death by goddamn paint on canvas, Rhea.

Suck it up. It’s a creepy hallway and you’re imagining things.

Alright, I decide as I straighten again, I should just go back.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, I think as I move to walk away.

But it’s at that exact moment that I hear the most vicious low growl I’ve ever heard and I snap to my left, my eyes landing on the three of them. Three enormous dogs, flayed, so all I can see are bloodied muscle fibers, savage eyes and teeth bared at me with palpable thirst for blood.

Before I can even process what’s going on, my wolf is trying to take control of my body as the creatures charge straight at me.

I don’t let her. My heart breaking into a gallop, I turn to run the hell away.

But the growl only gets louder and I feel my body getting limp despite all my desperation to get it moving and then…

Then there’s the sharp, violent pain in my shoulder blade.

Do it, I plead with my wolf as time itself seems to come to a stop. I plead with the only one who can save me. Take over, I urge her.

She doesn’t. She’s hurt. I open my mouth to scream, but I just gasp for air, losing my balance as this menacing silence penetrates every fiber of my being.

When I hear my grandma’s voice yelling out my name, at first, I think it all must be a dream and I really need to wake up.

Chapter 9 - Synn

It’s like a glitch in the system, I tell myself as I keep staring ahead, sitting on the floor with my back pressed against the dirty wall of my hiding spot. I haven’t even seen a woman in nine years, let alone touched one, so it’s really not all that surprising. But my mind keeps struggling, as if I’m still in that moment, reliving it again and again.

I shake my head as if that’ll be enough to make the thoughts go away. I’m tired, that’s all, tired of running and tired of failing and tired of being so close to the ghosts of my past. I’ll just sleep and when I wake up…

Everything will be the same as yesterday. And so will I. I’ll fix the conductor. I’ll hunt for food…

And right now, I’m having trouble dragging my hatred of her to the surface. But I just need to remind myself of that one simple fact. The fact that she’s the one who set me up. And once I’ve done that, I’ll just bring her another one of those presents, enjoying how unsettled it makes her feel. Something at least. A start.

But then this chill floods my body. Cautious but alert, I crane my neck to my left, to where the trap door is. I was so close to installing the conductor, I think with gritted teeth.

As soon as I hear it, all my muscles tense up. There’s something in the hallway.

It’s one of the many useful things that that place has taught me. When you sit around and wait for the bad thing to go away, it only ever gets worse.

Calmly but quickly, I stalk to the trap door, get into the shaft and start climbing.

As soon as I get close to the door opening up onto the hallway, my heart starts pounding.

There’s actually something out there.

It’s them, growling, getting ready to attack.

Air gets knocked out of my lungs.

They’ve come for me.

Almost instantly, the tremors start. Already moving to stop it from turning into a full-blown episode, to run the hell away before it can, I hear a formidable female voice call out, “Rhea!”

I make myself stop despite the overwhelming urge not to. My mind scrambles to make a decision. This, this is something else. It’s dangerous, more dangerous than anything I’ve done so far, but if there’s even the slightest chance of actually finding something out…

There’s growling and this other, strange sound as I rush to find the hole I put in the wall. I peer through.

And everything stops making sense, two things waging war inside me.

I have to fight the need to look away, the need to jump down to safety. So what if I break my fucking legs? There are three of them, three hounds, right there in the hallway.

At the very same time, there’s the need to come between them and the body lying on the floor in front of them, writhing in pain. It’s her. And they’ve already hurt her.

My mind threatens to explode.

Then the hounds let out another soul-crushing growl as their legs prepare to pounce and I feel the switch flip.

Over. My. Dead. Body. I’ve waited nine years to get my revenge and not even his bloody dogs will take it away from me. My body flooding with hot rage, I move to open the door and charge straight at them. She’s mine.

But the hounds don’t attack, they just keep growling, squirming but frozen in place.

I stop. What the…

I twist my neck to the right and press my eye closer to the hole, trying to see farther down the hallway. And there she is. The old woman, standing in front of Kitten with a strained but furious look in her eyes as she keeps one hand forcefully outstretched with the palm facing the hounds.

I almost let out a scoff.

But then I twist my neck to the left. The hounds are still growling menacingly. But they’re retreating.

I frown, but I don’t really have time to think. The creatures are already vanishing into thin air, but there’s still Kitten writhing in pain.

It’s only when her grandma shifts her focus onto her that I realize that’s not what’s going on.

She is hurt, but she’s writhing because she’s right on the verge of shifting.

My breath catching, I fix my eyes on her as she goes on all fours. Finally, I think as I strain not to miss a single detail.

“Rhea, no,” I hear her grandma yell out in a firm, authoritative voice as she rushes to her, “stop it, stop it right now, Rhea.”

My eyebrows pull down, my jaw clenching at the very thought of her interrupting this.

Still on all fours, Kitten lets out a low, furious growl and snaps her teeth at the old woman. Yes, just do it already, I think with gritted teeth.

Without a moment of hesitation, I see the grandma throw her right arm back and land a firm, audible slap across her granddaughter’s face.

What the fuck is going on here? I’m going to fucking kill that old bitch.

But it’s too late. Kitten is snapping out of it, trying to get up as her face takes on a confused, pained expression.

The old woman helps her to her feet, puts something in her hand and commands through gritted teeth, “You’re taking your pills and you’re coming with me.”

I fucking can’t believe this, I curse as I grip the ladder tighter, fighting not to slam my fist against the wall.

I force myself to snap out of it. I’ll need to follow them and I’ll need to be able to keep my cool while doing it.

I wait for them to disappear around the corner, watching Kitten lean against the old woman for support. Then I use my Tension Magic to make myself invisible, I open the door, carefully, and I jump out, landing without a sound.

I follow them all the way to the Elevator, just in time to see them enter and press the buttons for the Grimm Tower.

My lips curl into a smile. I know exactly where they’re going.

By the time I climb the Tower walls and stop to peer through the window of Lyca Moran’s office, they’re already there.

My heart thumps in anticipation. I see Lyca, obviously angry, crouching by the armchair in which Kitten is resting with her forearms on her thighs and her head lowered so I can’t see her face.

I strain my ears as I keep holding myself up. Kitten is letting out silent little winces as the old woman’s rubbing some kind of salve on her wounded shoulder. Mercilessly.

Just as I think all this waiting will kill me…

“Well?” Lyca demands. “Explain yourself, Rhea. Explain why it is exactly that I had to save you from the goddamn hounds of Nasgard.”

Yes, explain.

Kitten lifts her head up, letting me see her flinch at another dab of the salve and then clench her jaw. “What were those things, gran?” she finally speaks, her voice pained and pensive.

“It’s better that you don’t know,” the old woman says through gritted teeth. “What did you do, Rhea?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Kitten protests. She pauses a little before she asks, “You said they were from Nasgard. Was it the Warden who sent them?”

But Lyca stops applying the salve and gets up, coming to tower over her granddaughter with her fists on her hips. “I asked you a question, Rhea.”

Kitten looks up at her, her lips pressed tight. “And I answered your question.”

For a second, they just stare at each other, my eyes darting from one to the other.

Then Kitten lowers her head. “You won’t like what I have to say.”

My heart skips a beat.

“I won’t like it?” the old woman echoes with a laugh and comes to crouch next to her. Her voice is softer when she says, “Darling, I’ve lived through three separate wars and I can’t even tell you how many god-awful student presentations. I don’t think you should be worrying about me not liking things.”

Kitten looks up, a smile tugging at her lips. “If I tell you, will you promise to help me?”

Lyca throws her an impatient look, but that only makes Kitten’s smile grow wider.

I grip the windowsill even tighter, the anticipation killing me.

“Gran, I’ve been researching the breakout,” she finally blurts out.

I almost let out a scoff.

The old woman frowns and gets up again. “You’re not serious.”

“I am. But I’m struggling and I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

My mind is buzzing. For a second, her grandmother stays silent, pressing her lips tight. “I see,” she says as she starts pacing angrily. “You know, that penchant for drama you have, Rhea, I was willing to tolerate that while it was just you reading those books of yours.” Kitten gets red in the face. “But now?” Lyca asks as she comes to stand in front of her granddaughter again.

Kitten looks dumbstruck. “You told me to explore more serious topics,” she starts in a flat but hurt voice. “I was following your advice, gran.”

I see. She doesn’t want her grandmother to know she’s been a bad girl.

“No,” the old woman snaps at her, “you were putting yourself in actual danger and you were doing it for a sensationalist piece, not a serious one.”

“There’s more to that story than vapid drama.”

Lyca gets in her face, her voice controlled but still brimming with anger. “Maybe yesterday I would’ve cared. Right now, I want you to spill it. What did you do?”

Kitten jumps to her feet, wincing a little. “But that’s the thing,” she protests. “I swear to the Moon itself, I was only taking a walk. It was by accident that I found myself in that hallway.”

Yeah, right.

“Why do you insist on lying to me, Rhea? Have you forgotten what happened when you were only five? Have you forgotten what I did for you back then?”

The words make me frown. They can mean only one thing. That I’m not the only one who knows what Kitten did.

“No, I haven’t, gran.”

“And you do understand, child, that I’m in a much better position now? If you’ve found yourself in any kind of danger whatsoever, I can make it all disappear for you. You only need to tell me what it is.”

For a second, I think it’s all over. She’ll tell her grandmother about me and before I know it, I’ll find myself back in that hellhole.

But Kitten just presses her lips tight and says, “Once again, I’ve nothing to tell you, gran.”

My mind goes blank. It makes no sense for her to be doing this, not now that my presence here has almost got her killed.

“Fine,” Lyca snaps. “But I won’t have you looking into this any longer. And tomorrow morning, I want all your research on the breakout sent to me.” She raises a finger at her granddaughter. “Don’t even think about keeping any copies for yourself.”

Kitten just looks at her for a second. “You promised you’d help me.”

The old woman raises her voice, breathing heavily. “Help your obsession with a deranged criminal? Are you out of your mind?”

“You’re exaggerating, gran.”

“Exaggerating, am I? Didn’t I just find you starting to shift?” she practically yells out, her voice shaky with worry. “Have you forgotten what could happen to you, girl?”

What the…

Kitten waves her hands, rushing to say, “No, gran, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” She comes closer and takes her grandma by the wrist, as if she wants to console her. “I just meant to say, I’m not obsessed with anything. And I’m not stupid, I know what kind of man Synn Iarro is.”

What kind of man I am? Anger flooding my body, I have to clench my jaw to stay silent.

Lyca breathes out some of her frustration. “Then you won’t have a problem doing as you’re told.”

“No, gran,” Kitten says with tenderness and determination in her voice as she grips her grandma’s wrist tighter. “I’ll listen.”

“Good, because I only want what’s best for you,” I hear Lyca say, but I’m already climbing down the tower. “Now let me see if this is working or if we need to get you to the hospital.”

As I make my way down, I’m feeling both dumbstruck and angry as hell.

Everything I’ve heard tonight is making me believe that Rhea Moran is not the person who set me up after all. She can’t be, because if she were — considering she’d just been almost killed by the hounds because of me — she’d be in a rush to get rid of me, not keep helping me with her silence.

But mixed with surprise, there are the echoes of her words. She knows what kind of man I am. The anger I feel at hearing that is setting my blood on fire, making it hard to stay quiet.

Fuck her, I conclude as I land on my feet at the foot of the tower and get moving the fuck back to the Upside-Down Place.

Who’s she to talk? I know what the prophecy says about Little Miss Perfect. It’s only a matter of time when she does something much, much worse than the thing that led me to her in the first place. Besides, I remind myself, she’s not the one I’ve been looking for. So fuck her and fuck her pink little outfits and fuck her journalistic fucking aspirations. I’ve no reason to be part of it anymore, so she can keep her fucking opinions to herself.

Chapter 10 - Rhea

Ihave to fight not to let my eyes keep darting to all the shadowy corners of my room. I’m in my bed with just the lamplight on and I already have my book in front of me, but the effort to just continue as if nothing happened is already proving to be pointless.

My shoulder is killing me and my mind is swarming with images of those creatures, their teeth, their claws, that savage look in their eyes. I shudder at the very thought of being in a place guarded by them.

Banish it, I think as I force myself to take a deep breath. From now on, you’re steering clear of all that mess. So just banish it all.

When I hear the knock, it’s so silent that for a second I think I’ve imagined it.

My wolf, despite being bone-tired, rears her head.

It’s just grandma, I tell her as I get out of the bed.

But with the corner of my eye, I spot something outside my window.

Someone.

I swallow a scream, my wolf growling weakly. I scramble to the door, but then there’s the sound again. Louder this time.

Three knocks on the window, slow but angry.

My hand already on the doorknob, I crane my neck in the direction of the sound. And he’s enveloped in darkness, but it’s unmistakably him, the goddamn escaped prisoner, hanging off one muscled arm, his eyes commanding me to open the window.

My wolf goes silent.

Now I can only hear the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

For a second, I just stand there, blood-drenched roses on my brain. Of course he knows exactly where my room is.

No. No way in hell am I going to be putting up with this any longer.

Despite the urge to run the hell away, I march up to the window, unlatch and fling it open.

I take a few steps back, my eyes glued as he jumps in, as deftly as a cat despite his size.

So weird, this is all so weird. I find myself transfixed as I watch him slowly straighten up, his tall, broad frame filling up the room. He’s standing right in front of the lamp, so I barely see his face. But there’s one thing I do see clearly. I see his chest falling up and down in anger.

My heart throbs in my ribcage. Don’t show weakness, I tell myself. And I ball my hands into fists and decide to break the torturous silence, but I still have to fight to stop my voice from shaking. “Why are you here? Why are you following me?”

It’s at that very moment that I realize I’ve never heard him talk. I hold my breath in anticipation.

He doesn’t move. “Where is the research?” he asks in a low voice. It’s deep, melodic and raspy all at the same time.

Both the question and the voice make me frown. “What research?” I mutter.

“Your research on me.”

Of course he knows what I’ve been doing these past few months.

I fold my arms. “I believe there are people out there who got a lot further than I did. Why are you following me?”

It startles me, when he finally moves out of the shadow of the lamp, his eyes already on me. Unease spreading through my body, I see him move to my desk.

“Is it here?” he drawls as he yanks one of the drawers out and throws it on the floor.

I flinch. “What the…” I stop, my mind buzzing as I watch him keep getting closer, stopping by my dresser. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Or here?” he repeats and yanks the top drawer open, making my cheeks flush violently when he takes a look inside.

And just as he wraps his fingers around a pair of my lacy panties, anger outweighs caution and I find myself marching up to him. I move to shut the drawer so suddenly, I make him snap his hand away.

He takes a step back, somehow becoming even bigger as he looks down at me, with narrowing eyes that show something brimming under the surface, just like in the picture.

And it makes my heart skip a beat, but I choose not to let him intimidate me. “I’ll show you my research,” I tell him through gritted teeth, pausing a little before I add in a determined voice, “if, and only if you tell me why you’re stalking me.”

He just looks at me for a second, my breath held in anticipation.

To my surprise, his lips curl into a smile.

He takes one measured step forward and I take one back. With the corner of my eye, I see his bicep flex under the dirty shirt. It makes me imagine his fist clenching, which makes me visualize it around my throat. He taps a Rune and then snaps his fingers and I see one of my shirt buttons pop off and fly all the way to the other side of the room. My hands dart to my shirt, shivers running down my spine. His voice is low and threatening when he says, “You really think you’re in a position to set conditions?”

My breathing gets heavy, the anger at his audacity starting to hit me. “You’re wrong,” I start in a low, tense voice, lowering my hands and getting in his face, “if you think I’ll just let you do what you want. I may be just a student…”

He cuts me off with a growl and a slight shake of his head. “Want to know why I’m following you?”

I just blink at him. Yes, I think to myself, but I don’t actually say anything.

His voice is brimming with disgust when he says, “You’re anything but a regular student and even if that didn’t show yet, it will.”

What the hell? “You think stalking me means you know me?” I snap at him.

“I know your destiny,” he says matter-of-factly.

I almost laugh. “And what is my destiny, pray tell?”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “Destruction.”

“Destruction? My destiny is destruction?” I ask, not even trying not to sound mocking. “I think there’s a slight chance you’re projecting something.”

“It’s in the prophecy.”

Still so serious. Has that place really driven him this crazy?

“My future’s been prophesied? Wow.” I fold my arms again, shaking my head with feigned disbelief. “And here I was, limiting myself to my horoscope.”

He moves so quickly, I only register he’s grabbing me by the hair when he’s already behind my back and my head is painfully twisted back. “You will shut the fuck up,” he growls at me, his breath on my face, “and give me all the materials you have on me, right now.”

It’s only when he releases me that I actually feel the pain. On shaky legs, I walk up to my backpack and dig out the notes.

Without a word, I hand them to him and he snatches them from me. My eyes narrowing as my heart throbs, I watch him flip the pages, squinting.

“This is it?” finally he looks up to ask, mockery in his voice. “This is all you have?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

He lets out a rough, bitter laugh and says, “You know nothing about anything, let alone who I am. Remember that, Kitten.”

That makes hot blood rush to my cheeks. Kitten. Despite all the danger, I open my mouth to tell him off.

It’s at that exact moment that I hear it. Another knock.

Before I can even process what’s going on, I see Synn freeze, double back, grab onto the window frame and jump out.

What the…

My skin still flushed, I rush to my door and fling it open, only to see Wagner looking at me with narrowed eyes.

Did he follow him here? What should I say happened?

“Warden,” I finally mutter. “What’re you doing here?”

I see his jaw clench before I hear him say, “You’ve been hurt by my hounds.”

I just blink at him.

“So I’ve come to apologize,” he continues through gritted teeth, “and assure you it won’t happen again.”

Wow, I think to myself. This has to be grandma’s doing.

“Happy now?” he demands.

Unable to come up with anything to say, I nod.

And just like that, the surly vampire turns on his heel and zaps himself away from my door.

I hesitate before I turn back. A part of me wishes to stay in this moment, where it’s still unknown, whether he’s gotten back inside or disappeared for good.

But when I crane my neck, all I can see are the curtains billowing in the cold night air. And all I can think about is the name, that stupid, stupid name he called me that makes me want to punch him in the face.

Chapter 11 - Rhea

Idon’t remember these meetings dragging on so long, I think as I keep tapping my pencil on the blank piece of paper in front of me. I used to love them. Didn’t I?

I let my eyes sweep over the people, my colleagues and the editor herself, all seated around the large solid-wood desk in the middle of the meeting room. They’re going through some checklist, but I’m not listening. When has all this become so painfully boring?

“Rhea,” a voice calls out to me.

My eyes dart to my left and I see Keller looking at me with her head tilted to the side. “I said, we’ve come to the matter of covering the Winter Solstice Ball.”

“Yes,” I rush to say, straightening and clearing my throat. “No worries, Madam Editor. There’s a whole week until December 21st and I already have everything I need.”

“I’m sure you do,” she replies with a kind smile. “However, your work on the Trials so far…”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s perfectly fine, but let’s just say it lacks the expected dose of enthusiasm.”

I feel everyone’s eyes on me. Blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Madam Editor, with all due respect,” Edgar speaks before I even open my mouth, throwing me a wink that only makes me want to slap him, “I’ve read the pieces you’re talking about and I haven’t noticed them fall flat. I think there’s no one better for covering the Ball than Rhea.”

“Yeah,” Griselda cuts in, “because the rest of us all have dates.”

She throws me such a smug, nasty little smile, I get the urge to scream at her. Instead, I say, “I’m sure they’ll be giving out medals for that.”

I hear her mother clear her throat, throwing us all a stern look. I have to fight not to gloat when Griselda sinks into her chair a little.

But then the said mother turns back to me. Her voice is gentle but determined when she says, “Rhea, what’s your take on this? If I’m right and you’re simply not that interested in the Trials, I can always assign someone else to cover this.”

I hear Lhoris let out a scoff. Goddamnit, I bitch to myself.

Oh for fuck’s sake, my wolf decides to chime in, why not just say you find the Trials mind-numbingly boring and be done with it.

I can’t do that. Everyone already thinks I’m weird and they’re always weird about the goddamn Trials.

So I put on a smile and say, “Of course I’m interested in the Trials. You should leave this with me.”

Keller nods approvingly and turns her eyes back onto the checklist. I feel my heart sink, thinking I could’ve avoided having to write about the cringe-worthy parade of fake smiles, the forced display of wealth and the unnecessarily brutal exhibition of the Originals’ waning power that is the Trials.

But then I hear a forceful “No” from the other side of the wall.

A second later, I see a woman, seemingly a parent, fling the door to the meeting room open, followed closely by Siobhan trying to stop her.

I frown, a murmur rising all around me.

“I’m not getting an appointment,” the woman turns to tell Siobhan, her expensive suit made in the latest vampire fashion making her surroundings appear horribly unstylish and washed-out. “Do you know who I am, girl?”

Siobhan just stands there, wringing her hands in discomfort as she glances at Keller.

“It’s fine, Siobhan,” Keller says as she waves to dismiss her. “Madam Woda,” she starts, getting up to greet her. “If you’ll just wait a couple of minutes, we can talk in private.”

“No,” Woda snaps, glancing around the room with a level of confidence only an obscenely rich person could muster, “I don’t mind anyone hearing this. To the contrary.”

Keller doesn’t seem too comfortable with that, but she nods. While the rest of the room seems thrilled about it, I just let out a sigh. I guess I’ll have to waste some more time witnessing a rich parent throwing a tantrum over her kid being picked last or something.

“I know you and the Pied Piper are thick as thieves,” Woda starts, letting out a sigh of frustration, “and right now, she won’t listen to me. You need to tell her she absolutely can’t do this.”

That makes my ears prick up. Could she be talking about the lawsuit?

“I’m really sorry, but I can’t help you,” Keller says with a shake of her head. “She’s already filed the papers.”

She is talking about the lawsuit, I think to myself. I feel myself straighten up, my focus suddenly as sharp as a knife. So it’s true, the Academy is suing Wagner.

“No one got hurt,” Woda drawls angrily.

Except me. But my eyes just keep darting from one to the other.

“That doesn’t change the fact he brought the creatures onto Academy grounds without asking for permission first.”

It’s definitely strange, I think to myself. First he lets a whole week go by without starting the search for Synn, then he becomes so desperate to find him to risk legal action.

Woda lets out an angry scoff. “So she’s willing to risk the safety of our children because of some stupid ancient law?”

Everyone seems to only be getting more scared, I think to myself.

Keller runs her hand over her face and sighs before she says, “If she didn’t sue him, she’d set a precedent that would also endanger the children.” She pauses before she adds pleadingly, “Madam Woda, the Academy is and always will be a sanctuary first. And to serve its purpose, it needs to stay off limits.”

“So you won’t help me?” Woda demands. “Despite the fact he’s killing again, in the same brutal, cold-blooded way he did when they first threw him in Nasgard?”

Using magic to choke his seven victims with their own intestines, that’s what the anonymous source said for the Morn Times, the only newspaper that dared publish this information.

Keller just shakes her head. “The Authority have confirmed that those are copycats. The victims were dead before strangulation.”

Woda lets out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she hisses as she moves back to the door. She stops just as she stands beneath the doorframe. “But just so you know… You all can knock yourselves out being idiots, but I’m not letting you piss off the only man who could be standing between us and that psycho.”

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves.

If we ever actually found ourselves in need of his protection, I think to myself, we’d be screwed. It was stupid, to think he helped him escape. But the only alternative means he’s a liar who couldn’t exactly be called competent. And the whole lawsuit business — its lack of sophistication, to be more precise — only goes to prove it.

I barely finish the thought before Keller turns to us and says in a tired voice, “Alright, everyone, we’ll have to continue this tomorrow.”

I practically jump out of my chair and barely throw everyone a nod before I rush out of the meeting room.

But almost as soon as I leave, my high deserts me.

I let myself get carried away again, I realize as I drag myself into the Elevator. This is not my story, I scold myself. Not anymore. I made a promise. I even faked some notes for my grandmother not to be suspicious of me not having anything to show for all my work. I’m doing this. I’m pretending none of this ever happened.

But no matter what reasoning I try, the restlessness only ever disappears for a second. Right now, as I get out to breathe some fresh air in the castle gardens, it seems to be almost unbearable.

As I walk on autopilot, I hear my wolf let out a patronizing chuckle. So, she says in a conspiratorial whisper, when are we going to him?

Going to him? I frown. Are you out of your mind?

Well, your mind sure seems to be busy thinking about that hallway and how it must be his hiding spot.

My thoughts are sometimes just that. Thoughts. He’s a deranged goddamn criminal. I have no business looking for him.

Yet, it bugs you so so much he’s no longer leaving those little presents of his. She does a fake sniffle and continues in that chirpy, high-pitched voice she thinks sounds like me, And I mean, he hasn’t even come to see you once since he was in our room.

Oh my god, I protest, how can you be so vile?

No, no, sweetness, she rushes to say, though there’s still a touch of mockery in her voice, you misunderstand me. I’d love it if you went to him, honestly.

I know, that’s part of the reason I’m not going.

There’s silence as I start entering the grove.

Come on, you know you want to, she finally says. And besides, I was knocked out the last time we saw him. I missed out on all the fun.

I don’t care. And you’re batshit crazy if you think you’ll be able to convince me.

She lets out an angry scoff. Of course. You can’t even be convinced to do a normal student thing, like have awkward sex with another pimple-faced student, you fucking prude.

Now, that makes me stop and grit my teeth. First Griselda, now you? In case you forgot, I hiss at her, I did have sex and it was awful.

Well, I didn’t like it much either, she snaps at me. Want to know why?

Oh, do tell.

Because you’re a giant fake and you don’t even know it, she yells at me. Can you even begin to understand what it’s like to be stuck in that for all fucking eternity?

And she moves to push through to the surface, but I don’t let her. I slam the door right in her face and I ball my hands into fists, struggling to keep my cool. How dare she?

“Hello, Rhea,” I hear Raven’s shrill, inquisitive little voice.

It makes me flinch and my eyes dart to the gazebo. This time, I spot her on a bush right in front of the steps.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I come to throw myself on the top one.

“She didn’t hear me?” Raven asks as she hops to turn to me, her head tilted.

“Sorry, Raven,” I say, “I’m just annoyed.”

“Why?”

I roll my eyes. “Because everyone is being so stupid, you know?”

I stare at her intently, my nostrils flaring.

Raven blinks at me, jerks her head to the other side and then says, matter-of-factly, “I have a friend who takes all my best sticks, hits me on the head with them and flies away.”

It almost makes me laugh. “Then you know what I’m talking about,” I reply in a softer voice.

Then it hits me and I squint at her. The actual bird I’m talking to. And who’d a bird tell? Her stick-thieving friends? “Raven?”

She blinks at me again. “Yes, Rhea?”

“Would you mind if I talked to you about something?”

“Would I?” Raven asks, seeming intrigued. “I’m not sure. What does it feel like, when you do?”

“Nevermind,” I say with a wave of my hand. “So, here’s the thing.” I pause, getting up and starting to pace as Raven’s eyes follow my every move. “I made a promise not to write about this case because it’s dangerous, because it’s about this man who’s killed people, spent time in prison for it and then broken out. But…”

I pause again, come to a stop and turn to look at the bird. “If I’m not writing about that case, I’ve got nothing, Raven, nothing.”

Raven gives a few comical nods of her tiny bird head, but she doesn’t speak.

“Well?” I nudge her, frustration seeping into my voice. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

She jerks her head again in a way that, to me at least, conveys surprise. Then she gives a determined nod and says, “Sure, Rhea. So, last night, I had a dream…”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“In that dream,” Raven continues in her shrill little voice, “I was the princess of a shifter kingdom and I had twelve brothers who I loved more than anything in the world. My life was perfect, until an evil fae-blooded woman got jealous of me and cursed my brothers to stay in their animal forms forever.”

I stay silent, interested to hear where the story will go.

“My brothers were all raven shifters and maybe I was too, I just wasn’t able to use my powers. But after the curse, I was suddenly all alone. I had no choice but to go looking for my family myself.”

I hold my breath, wondering how exactly this will help me make up my mind.

“On my way,” says Raven, “I encountered another fae, a kind woman this time, who helped me learn to communicate with other animals. These animals helped me find the evil woman who cursed my brothers and once I got to her castle, I found out she was keeping them all there, trapped and miserable. It took all my strength, but to defend them, I managed to use my powers for the very first time. And I succeeded. I set my brothers free and they got their happily ever after.”

Once she’s done, she turns to look at me and for a second, I just blink at her. I’m pretty sure that was a Grimm fairy tale she just told me, but it doesn’t matter. The question remains the same.

“What’s all that got to do with anything, Raven?” I ask.

Raven tilts her head at me. “Oh. Nothing, Rhea. I just thought she wanted me to say something.”

This time, I actually laugh. The sound echoes through the trees around us, sudden and slightly bitter. “Yeah, no,” I finally say. “What I wanted was your opinion on my situation.” No matter how ridiculous that sounded, I think to myself. “But I guess you wouldn’t have one.”

“Oh, but I do, Rhea,” Raven says, making me frown and nudge her to talk.

“The man she described sounds dangerous,” she continues matter-of-factly. “I think she should keep the promise she made.”

I just look at her for a second. Then I get up and let out a frustrated sigh. “Why does no one understand?” I moan as I start pacing again. My voice gets louder and more frustrated with each word. “It’s not about the man. I mean, it’s not even about the breakout. It’s about the prison, Raven. Sure, at first, even I was focused on finding out where he'd gone and how he’d escaped. But then I had a close encounter with one of the things from that prison and let me tell you,” I continue without even glancing at the bird, “I’ve started to think it’s kind of sick, that we still keep that place going. But there’s no way to prove that, you see, because no one knows for a fact what’s going on there. And no one could, until now at least, until someone actually managed to escape and is at large, walking around with answers to all my questions.”

I stop midstep and turn on my heel so I could throw the bird an incredulous look. “Don’t you see, like, for an aspiring journalist, how unique of an opportunity this is?”

Raven jerks her head, blinking. “She confuses me, Rhea. Why does she want my opinion if she already has one?”

“Well,” I snap as I start walking away with newfound determination in my step, “people are confusing. I suggest you get used to it, Raven.”

Chapter 12 - Rhea

Anxious to do it right, I don’t go to him straight away. I wait for darkness to creep into the castle and for everyone to go to bed.

Then I stalk over to the hallway in which the hounds attacked me.

I have to pause before I even enter, the wound on my shoulder that still hasn’t healed completely starting to itch at the mere sight of it. Maybe I should take a pill or two, just in case.

No, just push through it, Rhea, I tell myself. I know he’s here. The hounds were here sniffing after him, not me.

So I grip the bag I’m carrying tighter in my hand and I start walking down the hallway, inspecting the walls and trying the doors.

All locked.

And I come to the very end without spotting anything.

Maybe I was wrong, I think to myself, the tension in my chest starting to dissipate at the very thought of failing this mission and having to go back to my room. Or maybe this is a sign. My hand darts to my shirt, my mind rushing to that moment he popped the buttons. Yes, this is a sign that I should stop trying to give an infamous killer who thinks I’m some child of prophecy another chance to murder me in cold blood.

I let out a breath and turn on my heel, heading straight back to my room.

It’s then that I see it. One of the doors to my right slightly ajar.

I stop midstep, my heart racing. Weren’t they all locked?

I hesitate for a second, but then I tiptoe straight to it, so eager to peer inside, it makes my breathing heavier.

Now, this is the moment I’ve been preparing for all day. So far, this man hasn’t actually hurt me. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t take a single wrong move for me to literally end up dead.

Don’t forget, I tell my wolf as I pat my bag to warn her of what’s to come if she misbehaves, that’s the only reason I’m doing this.

Go on, my wolf just says, her voice an amused, a little sinister drawl, this is the one time I won’t be getting in your way, sweetness.

I nod. I don’t know what I’m doing, I let myself admit before I close my eyes shut, open the tiniest crack in my mental barrier and let my wolf stick her nose out.

For a second, there’s silence, broken only by the sound of my heartbeat.

Then she goes straight for the crack, thrashing to throw me off.

I knew it. Without a moment of hesitation, I take the deepest breath I’ve ever taken and force my mind to shut down. Almost instantly, the thrashing stops.

And I don’t try again right away. I wait one long moment before I slowly open the crack again, my teeth gritted in anger and determination.

She’s not saying anything, but I know she has her tail between her legs.

I breathe a sigh of relief, pressing my bag closer to me. She nudges me, no words necessary, and I reach out my hand and I start moving how she wants me to, slowly running my palm up and down the doorframe, where the majority of protective spells would be placed.

But she doesn’t find anything there.

Instead, she makes me go back to the door itself, the front side of it.

And she starts sniffing like crazy, so I speed it up a little.

Then, just as I get on my toes, I come eye to an eye with… an eye.

A single, dead-looking eye in a hole in the door.

I take a step back, swallowing a scream.

Then I almost let out a laugh. It’s just a dead eye, Rhea, I tell myself. How many of those have you had to deal with in Professor Byrne’s class only?

But it still could be magic, I think as I carefully approach the door again, so it’s not like I can dismiss it.

Oh it is magic, my wolf, who never did like to lose, drawls in a flat but strained voice.

I frown.

Come on, can’t you see it’s not dangerous, she tells me, the mockery a way for her to lick her wounds. It’s just connected with something else. I can already smell it. Now, go, let me smell it.

Oh. So it’s a conductor, I think to myself.

Intrigued and only slightly alarmed, I take a deep breath, clutch my bag tightly and peer into the room behind the door.

At first, there’s only darkness. But as soon as my eyes start to adjust to it, I notice. The room’s got no floor. It’s a shaft with a ladder going down, into unknown depths.

My forehead scrunching up, I cautiously bend down, crouch next to it and run my hand over the top rung, letting my wolf sniff.

Nothing.

I press my lips tight, but I turn around and press my palms to the floor, one foot carefully reaching back and down, in search of the closest rung.

And it finds one.

But when I try to go down, something pushes me back up. Not something, though, I think to myself, frowning as I glance over my shoulder to see what’s going on.

But I see nothing.

Yeah, there’s something weird there, my wolf says, squinting and sounding quite intrigued. It’s as if the air flows in a different direction.

I roll my eyes. The air flows in a different direction, I echo mockingly. What am I supposed to get out of that?

I hear her take in an angry breath, but her voice is flat when she says, Try it head first.

I let out a scoff. Yeah, right. Is that your only brilliant idea or do you have more?

I don’t get an answer. Just pouty silence.

So I shake my head and decide to give it a go.

In the name of Lycan, I think to myself as I get down on my knees in front of the ladder, push my head inside the shaft and grab onto one of the rungs with both my hands. Am I a crazy person?

Still, I do it. I start going down head first, but as soon as I do, my stomach jumps up and everything seems to turn upside down.

I grip the ladder tighter, feeling dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden. My mind scrambles to understand what just happened. Just a moment ago, I was upside down. Now I’m not. How is that possible?

Just go, my wolf snaps at me a little.

Well, I say through gritted teeth, which way? Up or down?

Up, she replies with a sigh.

For a second, I want to yell at her, the frustration starting to get to me. But then I take a deep breath, I bite my tongue and I start climbing.

I see it long before I reach it. A small square door in the ceiling.

Like a trap door, I think with a rush of excitement.

Impatiently, I nudge my wolf to give me the green light.

The very moment she does, I use my palm to slowly push the door up a little.

I freeze as soon as it spills out. The light.

Lit, the room is lit, I think to myself, alarms going off in my mind. I’ve found it. I’ve found his goddamn hiding spot and he’s here.

I almost double back. Goddamn it, am I going to die here, I think to myself, panic coursing through my veins. My wolf is strangely silent, but I can feel her thirst.

To hell with it. Holding the door with the palm of my hand, I climb one more rung and peer inside.

Empty. Small, more of a cell and creepy as hell, but the room seems to be empty.

What is this place?

My own thirst for more makes me push at the door until it falls away with a thud.

I scramble a bit, I slam my knee against the edge of the opening and, as I straighten up, the hem of my skirt gets caught on a nail. Then, trying to free it, I almost fall back in.

But I get inside the room. And that’s all that matters, I think to myself as I dust my skirt off.

“Well,” I hear his deep, tired voice a split second before I see him materialize in front of me. “If it isn’t the journalist.”

The shock leaves me still for a second. Then I grab my thigh with one hand and my chest with the other, my heart pounding and my lungs struggling to fill with air.

But I don’t take my eyes away from him and I feel my wolf focusing on him as well. He’s standing an arm length away, squinting at me with his arms folded.

Still panting, I start straightening up, when he motions at my skirt. I look down and feel hot blood rush to my cheeks. Somehow, the hem got caught under, revealing a chunk of my leg in the most comical way. I’ve never done anything quicker than pulling it back down.

When my eyes dart back up to his, to my surprise, there’s not even a touch of mockery in them. I feel my muscles relax.

“Why are you here?” he drawls, making my wolf’s ears prick up.

My breathing becoming steadier, I keep standing there, trying to remember how I said I’d start.

Doesn’t matter, my wolf nudges me, impatiently, hungrily. Just make him say more stuff.

No, I snap at her. And I stop her before she can make my eyes wander down his shirt, to get a good look at exactly how the muscles are straining it.

“I asked you a question,” he warns, making me meet his eyes, narrowed and piercing.

Oh fucking hell, my wolf drawls, all hot and bothered.

Now, that makes me lose my patience. “Look, I’m no journalist, I’m just a student,” I declare at the same time I push my wolf away, somewhere where she can’t do any more damage, and close the door on her. “But I still want you to let me interview you.”

“No,” he says, without so much as a moment of hesitation. He motions at the opening through which I came. “There’s the door.”

And he starts turning away from me, but then I realize exactly how my words came out. I start walking to him, hesitantly.

“Wait a second,” I say and he doesn’t turn around, but he does stop. And he’s so close, I could touch him if I only reached out my hand a little. “I, of course, understand how crazy this all might sound to you and I understand the position you’re in,” I start anxiously rambling. “I mean, I’m not stupid. But this wouldn’t be an article on you, it would be a piece on Nasgard, on the dubious morality of it all.”

I see a vein in his neck pop out for a second, the muscles in his arms flexing. “No. Now leave.”

But I can’t. Not after all this trouble. Not when I’m this close to finding something out, I think as I glance down at the bag. I take a deep breath, I reach out my hand and I touch his shoulder.

Before I know it, he’s turning to me, so suddenly that I’ve no time to react. Knocking my hand away, he grabs me by the neck and drives me into the wall, my heart throbbing in my ears as I dig at his fist. And it’s shaking, but it’s like a rock. Sounds, pathetic, struggling sounds keep coming out of my nose as I fight not to let him crush my windpipe.

The next second, the grip loosens and the hand gets snatched away. I find myself sliding down the wall, my hands darting to my neck. I’m gasping for air and he’s turning his back on me, his shoulders falling up and down, his fists clenching.

Stupid. How am I so stupid, I bitch to myself. “There,” I manage to squeeze out, pointing at the bag lying on the floor. “I just wanted to give you that.”

He turns to me, his chest heaving and one finger raised in anger. “Don’t. Touch me,” he says through gritted teeth. “Understood?”

I nod and I get up, quickly albeit a little shakily. It makes things even more surreal, when I realize how unafraid I am. I don’t even feel shaken up.

I just feel sad for the guy as I look at him, all dirty in this horrendously depressing goddamn room. I point at the bag again and, the voice still betraying me a little, I say, “I’ll leave that.”

And I turn to the trapdoor, already moving to come into a crouch, crossing my fingers to make at least a tiny bit more elegant exit.

“What is it?” I hear him ask, hesitation in his voice. My ears immediately prick up. “What’s in the bag?”

I straighten up again and turn to meet his eye. He’s squinting at me.

For some reason, I blush. “Food,” I tell him, my voice strained. “It’s just food. I mean, I don’t know what you like, so I just brought a little bit of everything.”

I see him glance at the bag and then back at me.

Encouraged, I move towards the bag, slowly walking around him. His body’s not moving, but he’s following me with his eyes.

“You know, it’s weird,” I start as I bend over a little to grab the bag, fighting to keep my voice from shaking, “I haven’t found any roses lying around lately.”

Still not a word. Just eyes narrowing. Damn it, I think as I glance around with the bag in my hands, looking for a place to set up the food. How do I get him to talk?

“What, this isn’t what you’re used to?” I hear him snap, making me turn to meet his eyes.

“No,” I say flatly. “I’m used to more pink.”

The look he throws me, I can’t really decipher, but I decide it’s not a murderous one.

So I take another glance around the room, spotting a rickety stool beneath the only window. It’s a small room, so wherever I wanted to go, I’d have to go around him.

“Give me that,” I tell him as I motion at the stool.

He just looks at me.

I let out a sigh and I walk past him to take it myself. I feel his eyes burning the back of my neck.

But as soon as I reach for the stool, he appears right next to me and grabs it before I can.

I snatch my hands away, my body tensing up, but he just dusts the stool off and hands it to me.

For a second, I just look up and into his eyes. To my surprise, he’s not squinting at me, he’s just… looking. And not looking away.

My heart starts pounding with excitement. I tear my eyes away, I take the stool and I place it closer to the center of the room. I can already hear him say yes to the interview.

Him watching my every move, I sit on the floor next to the stool, get a handkerchief out of the bag and throw it over. There, better, I think as I nod. “Here’s the thing with my proposal,” I say as I start taking the food out. “It wouldn’t just potentially benefit all Originals, it would potentially benefit you as well.”

I hear him move and I look up to see him come into a crouch on the other side of the stool, laying his muscled forearms to rest on his knees. “Is that so?” he asks as he locks eyes with me, a touch of mockery in his voice.

But I don’t mind. “Yes,” I just say and start opening the tupperwares. The smell of almost freshly cooked food fills the room. And then the sound of his stomach grumbling makes me feel a pang of sympathy. I ignore it. “I mean,” I continue, “right now, if someone catches you, you’re going back to that place. But if the government shut it down…”

I look up to find him already staring at me. And he’s back to squinting. “What?” he demands, anger brimming in his voice. “I could start paying for my crimes in a nicer place?”

For a second, I frown at him, feeling confused. Then I nod. “Yes,” I say.

His breathing heavy again, he jumps to his feet and grabs the stool with both hands. My breath catches. He lifts it up and slams it against the wall, wood and plastic and metal all coming crashing to the floor.

Frowning, I push myself off the floor as well.

“Did you seriously think,” he drawls, at the same time pissed-off and mocking, “I’d tell you anything? You? A naive little girl who doesn’t even see herself? Who doesn’t even know what her own story is about?”

It makes me frown in confusion, then frown in anger. Breathing heavily, I feel the need to scream something at him, but there are so many things that I want to scream at him, my mind just goes blank.

He’s still standing next to all that mess, throwing daggers at me. “I want you to leave and never come back,” he says with such determination in his voice and eyes, “unless you want your neck snapped for real, Kitten.”

For a moment, I just stand there, looking at him, my vision blurring with all the rage. Then I ball my hands into fists and I push past him, nearly throwing myself into the opening through which I came.

“That’s what I thought,” I hear him growl after me.

But I’m too focused on getting out of there, feeling like any second now, I just might explode.

Chapter 13 - Rhea

It’s a dress, it’s just a dress, I tell my stupid brain as I keep staring at the thing.

It’s thrown over the bed, watching me as I sit on the chair in front of my mirror and bite my lip in despair.

So red, I moan to myself. And with the back cut so low… Everyone is going to be there tonight, I mean, it’s the goddamn Winter Solstice Ball. So everyone will be able to see the stupid fat on my back. But even those who otherwise wouldn’t notice, well, the red will make sure that doesn’t happen, I think with a bitter shake of my head. What was I thinking when I got it?

Dirty thoughts, my wolf tells me with a snarky laugh. You were thinking dirty thoughts, sweetness.

Oh shut up, I tell her.

I jump off the bed, I walk up to the dress and I put it on. At first, when I come to look at myself in the mirror, it makes me feel... ridiculous. Straight out ridiculous, with those goddamn love handles and that stupid stomach fat.

I keep going, searching for more flaws. But then I turn to the side and look over my shoulder and my eye lands on the cut in the back. And it makes me feel so good, like a tongue down my skin, when I imagine eyes on it.

See, it’s those I was talking about, I hear my wolf drawl, a tinge of excitement in her voice. Could it actually be happening, sweetness? You going to a party and acting like a normal college girl?

It’s for work that I’m going, I snap at her.

Still, it’s with a strange thrill that I leave my room and get to the Main Hall, the music blaring from the speakers only heightening it.

There’s already a huge crowd and I’m here on a job, so I find a table with a couple of barstools to the front, not far away from the podium, where the Chosen will soon be doing their little dance.

But my mind is far away from the events of the day. I’m glancing around, watching the other students chatting, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in each other’s ears. And it’s making me go crazy with longing, imagining going out there and getting someone’s hands and mouth all over my body. What the hell is happening to me?

Good stuff, my wolf replies with determination. It’s good stuff that’s happening to you, sweetness.

I only manage to roll my eyes at her before spotlights hit the podium at the front of the Hall and the crowd all around me starts cheering. I make myself snap out of it and dig my notebook out of my clutch.

“Rhea?” I hear Edgar call out to me even before my eyes dart in his direction.

Clad in a gorgeous charcoal suit, he’s walking up to me with champagne in his hand and an amused frown on his face. He stops, drags his eyes down my body and says, “Bloody hell, I almost didn’t recognize you.” He twirls a finger. “Come on, show it off a little.”

I shake my head, smiling self-consciously as I tug on the fabric of my dress, already regretting not chickening out. “There’s nothing to show off,” I choose to say, trying to shake off the discomfort.

“Says the woman in red,” he replies as he comes to stand next to me, turning to face the crowd. I catch a glance at my notebook. “Don’t tell me you’re actually working, R.”

I have to raise my voice because they’ve turned up the music. “Well, I am covering the Winter Solstice Ball.” I turn to throw him an amused look and gesture at the podium, continuing in a teasing drawl. “And judging by that huge banner right there, saying ‘Winter Solstice Ball’, I’d say that this is probably…”

He cuts me off, smiling and rolling his eyes, “Alright, alright, but it’s not like there’s any need to take notes.”

It’s just at that moment that the host announces the dance and the Chosen start climbing onto the podium.

For a second, both Edgar and I seem to stay transfixed by the grandeur of it all, the crystal steps, the giant chandelier, the lavish outfits of the Chosen themselves.

Then my eye gets drawn away from the podium, to Griselda dancing with some hot shifter pressed to her back, his hands slipping under the hem of her ridiculously short dress.

She sees me looking and throws me such a nasty, self-satisfied little smile, it makes me want to smash things.

“You know why she can’t seem to stop picking on you?” I hear Edgar ask, making me tear my eyes away from her. “She’s jealous. It’s pretty plain to see.”

“Yeah right,” I reply with a scoff, turning to watch the Chosen dance. “It’s the thin girl with the hot date that’s jealous.”

He lets out a laugh. “Like you wouldn’t be able to get one.” Then I sense him fix his eyes on my profile. “But you know what I’d like to know, R?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He points at the podium. “Out of all of them, who would you pick to fuck?”

That makes me side-eye him, frowning. “What happened to kill and marry?”

He waves his hand. “Boring.”

It makes me frown a little, this sudden third-degree. But I chuckle and turn back to the podium, tilting my head to observe the Chosen more closely as they all start to dance in pairs. “I don’t know,” I finally say, even though I do. And that does not make me a prude, I snap at myself, remembering my wolf’s accusations. It just makes me…

“Come on, no one?” Edgar snaps me out of it. “What about Cormac? He’s got a rugged charm, don’t you think?”

I let out a scoff. “Yeah, the rugged charm of an actual rug,” I say as I watch the hairy shifter clumsily wink at the cameras while failing to twirl his dancing partner.

“Interesting,” Edgar says, using a tone that makes me feel like I’m under some kind of observation. “Maybe you like guys like Nym more. You know, more delicate but smooth, stuff like that?”

I shake my head in disgust as my eye darts to Nym trying to feel up his partner. “Even creeps can be smooth, Ed.”

But he’s not giving up. “Bloody hell, R. Come on, I’m trying to get to know you a little better. What about Harry?”

“Yeah,” I lie, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “Harry, I’d definitely hit that.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding so surprised, it makes me turn to look at him.

And sure, he has that amused frown on his face that’s telling me I’m being weird.

I quickly try to change the subject. “Any progress with that info I asked you to find for me?”

He doesn’t seem bothered. “Nope. But if it exists, that can only mean one thing.”

“What?” I demand, not even trying to watch the dance.

He turns to me with a grin plastered on his face. “It’s in the Restricted Section.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Could you get me in?” I ask with bated breath.

“Sure,” Edgar says with a determined nod, “first thing after winter break.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“I don’t actually have access,” he replies with a frown. “I’d need to ask for it.”

“Fine,” I rush to say, “I think I saw one of the Arcmages somewhere around here.”

He shakes his head. “They’re only in charge of approving books that end up in the Library. We’d need someone higher up and they don’t like to be disturbed after hours.”

I let out a scoff. “In a couple of weeks, when Keller finally presents you with the title of Assistant Editor,” I start, struggling to keep bitterness out of my voice.

Blushing, he runs his hand through his hair, but he doesn’t try to contradict me. After all, it’s slowly become obvious who she favors.

“You’ll have access to everything anyway,” I finish my thought, still as bitter as when I started it.

Edgar looks deep into my eyes, pressing his lips tight and inhaling deeply. Then he lets out a breath, shaking his head. “I mean, I guess. But you’d owe me, big time.”

I give him a determined nod. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn back to the main event, a smile dancing on my lips. Then it hits me.

I lean to the side so he can hear me better and I force myself to just spit it out because I can’t let myself be that person. “Just to make it clear, Ed,” I start, “I may be a little disappointed, but I’m honestly happy for you. And your family, I’m sure they’ll all be ecstatic that you’re officially following in their footsteps, becoming a serious, esteemed journalist.”

He turns to give me a warm smile. But he doesn’t sound too happy when he says, “Yeah, I know they will be.”

There’s still the send-off brunch, I tell myself, and plenty of time between now and then to write something killer, something no scout will be able to ignore. And that’s how you don’t get picked to be Assistant Editor and still get to work as a journalist right after graduation.

But it’s then that I feel it, on my back, like someone’s breathing down the exposed skin. It makes my spine arch and goosebumps break out all over my body. For a second, I hesitate. Then I slowly glance over my shoulder, my breathing heavy. I only see a crowd of slightly tipsy people. No one. There’s no one watching me.

And that disappoints me, making my mind flood with the image of Synn motioning for me to pull down my skirt. Why do I keep going back to that moment? And why am I not afraid of that man?

“R,” I sense Edgar lean to whisper in my ear and I almost jump up, “just to give you a heads up.”

I turn to him, frowning. He motions to his right, making my eyes dart to a man standing not too far away, a lot of empty space around him considering the crowd. Wagner.

“What’s he doing here?” I blurt out, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “And why is he staring at us?”

“Us?” Edgar asks with a rough laugh. “I honestly wouldn’t mind catching his eye, but yeah, I don’t think it’s us he’s interested in.”

For a second, I just frown at my dashing colleague. “I guess he is your type.” I pause a little for effect. “Old and scowling.”

“Hey,” he protests, albeit with a smile.

But Wagner is still staring. What should I do, I think to myself, my mind scrambling for potential explanations. The last time I saw him, he apologized to me.

That’s right. And sure, I did go visit Synn since then, but he doesn’t know that.

“Rhea?” Edgar calls out, snapping me out of my ruminations.

“Sorry, Ed,” I say in a determined voice. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Without a moment of hesitation, I grab my clutch and I start walking straight to the scary looking Warden that apparently everyone else is scrambling to steer clear of.

He watches me approach, his face betraying zero emotion. Despite my determination, he still makes me feel so goddamn nervous.

“Warden,” I start as soon as I approach him, “never thought I’d see you here again.”

His lips curl into a smug smile. “Not even the Pied Piper can stop a man of Authority from doing his duty. And all my roads seem to lead to you, Miss Moran.”

I have to fight to maintain eye contact. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“It means the more I learn about the man I’m hunting, the more your name comes up.”

“Then you must be doing something wrong. I’m just a student writing for the school newspaper.”

He clicks his tongue. “And I’m just a man who’s not falling for your act,” he says as his eyes sweep the merry, slightly tipsy crowd around us. When he turns them back on me, there’s not just smugness, but a warning in them. “But I am giving you an opportunity to come clean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I blurt out.

He lets out a rough laugh and then quickly turns serious. “You’re hiding something, girl.”

My wolf lets out a growl. The way he says it, girl, makes me want to punch him in the face. “You know, Warden,” I start, feeling fire burn away all my nervousness, “after last time, I never thought you’d want to have another chat with my grandma.”

That makes him clench his jaw. He leans to snarl in my ear, “Well, you might not be able to hide behind her for much longer.”

“Excuse me,” I ask with a frown, “what exactly are you talking about?”

“Head of Council,” he says with a quirk of one eyebrow. “It might just prove to be a tad too complicated for, you know, a shifter.”

I ball my hands into fists. So he’s that kind of vampire, I think to myself. The kind that hates other bloodlines, thinking they’re impure. Unlike his own, of course.

But it’s the Winter Solstice Ball, I’m on a job and he’s a powerful, powerful man.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say through gritted teeth as I take a step back. “You will stop harassing me.”

For a second, we just throw daggers at each other.

Then his eyes dart to a spot behind my back.

“Warden?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling down.

But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even throw me a glance. He just zaps himself away, leaving me to stand there in the hole in the crowd that his presence has created.

And I wish it was his rudeness, that leaves me stupefied. I just can’t believe we’d have a man like that in a position of such power. Lying, heartless, vampiric-supremacy kind of guy.

But what’s worse than all that, what truly leaves me breathless, is how convinced I am he’s hiding something.

Chapter 14 - Synn

I’m so absorbed in watching her — the way she glances over her shoulder making me imagine she can feel my eyes on her — that I don’t even notice someone bumping into me.

“Apologies,” I hear the guy slur as he pushes past me with a drink in his hand, his voice drowned out by music and the chatter of the crowd I’m trying to blend into.

Goddamn it, I curse as I force myself to give him a nod.

But when I turn my eyes back onto her, she’s gone. I glance around, frantically searching for anything red.

Nothing.

Great, I think with gritted teeth. But at least she didn’t go with him. Her perfect little date is still standing there, watching the dance.

So many people. There are so many people here and I don’t fucking know why I let myself do this in the first place. Being in a crowd like this is forcing me to use the mask instead of the cloak, which is more draining. And even if it weren’t, she’s not the one I’m looking for.

For a second, I let myself linger on it, again. It’s still so weird, thinking I could go for nine years blaming the wrong person.

But what else was I supposed to think? When I brought the proof of what she did to the Authority, it was already over. The crime had been committed in the same manner in which it had been all those years ago and the Authority were already out to arrest me. She was a child, but the evidence was just…

I inhale deeply. I still can’t believe it wasn’t her.

I should be back at the Upside-Down Place, laying low until I find the one who is.

But then the date moves to stop a waiter and take two more glasses off the tray. The young vampire who’s clean, shaven, unscarred, unbroken… And it makes my blood boil. Just thinking about what he’ll do. How far he’ll try to go and how it’ll turn out for him. Even though I already know.

Yes, she’s still the child of prophecy, I tell myself with a nod. I should stay and I should make sure nothing happens.

What do you expect to happen, you stupid fuck? I run my hand over my mouth, shaking my head in disbelief. You’re not a man on a mission, you’re a thirty-year-old idiot throwing daggers at some student on a date with another student.

This is so fucking stupid, I think to myself.

I decide to leave.

I glance around, looking for the quickest way to get out of the drunken crowd.

Then, with the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of red. And just like that, I feel air leave my lungs and my feet turn to lead.

I stare at her as she walks back to her date. Her presence pushes him into the background, pushes everything into the background. Even the noise seems to die down. She seems angry.

Why is she angry?

I watch her every move like a hawk, her fingers wrapping around the offered glass, her lips curling into a tense smile.

Why is her smile so tense?

She seems to slowly relax, glancing around the room as she sips on the champagne. I try to will the shoulder of her dress into doing the thing again. And when it does, when it slides down and she moves to pull it back up, my breath catches, heat washing over me.

I let my eyes drag up and down the dress that seems to be made to torture me, hiding almost everything but revealing just enough to make me see her curves in all their glory.

I grip the piece of paper she forgot in the bag she brought the food in. I know it by heart, but it’s just a to-do list.

Staring at her, I imagine something else being written there. What, I don’t know, but there’s a painful longing to see it ripping into me. And I imagine her looking over her shoulder and straight into my eyes, the way she did when she came for that little visit.

For some reason, it keeps making me picture myself coming up for air after a lifetime of drowning.

What snaps me out of it is her leaning in to whisper something to her date. I grit my teeth and I ball my hands into fists.

He turns to look at her and then puts his hand on her shoulder.

If he doesn’t stop touching her, I’m going to fucking kill him.

He stops, his hand dropping to his side. Fuming, I watch them talk in whispers. If they move to leave, I don’t give a fuck about the best spot to blend in, I’m fucking following them.

But suddenly, there’s the slightest touch of a hand on my shoulder and a familiar scent invading my nostrils. It jerks me out of my fixation and back into the crowded, noisy Main Hall. My muscles tighten and I feel the need to run the hell away.

“You only need to come peacefully,” a voice says, a controlled but angry voice that sends a cold chill running up my spine.

I force myself to get it the fuck together. I crane my neck, slowly, and I meet the Warden’s ruthless stare, his eyes as white as the bones his guards clean their muzzles with.

How can he see through my magic?

“Peacefully?” I ask in a low, controlled voice, smirking at him as I slowly hold out my hand and open it for him to see exactly what he’s dealing with. “I don’t think so.”

His eyes dart to my palm, widening for just a split second.

“What, you thought I’d come here without protection?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he snarls at me, but he’s practically whispering, nervously glancing around. “You know that thing wouldn’t hurt me.”

I nod, closing my hand shut as I feel the black hole becoming harder to contain. “But it would kill everyone else,” I say with a smirk. “One wrong move and it will.”

He just stares at me for a second, gritting his teeth. “You look even worse now that you’re out,” he finally says, forcing each word out individually as his red-stained lips curl in disgust. “Don’t you faes have your little tricks?”

“I’m leaving,” I say as I move to do exactly that.

“You don’t think I know why you’re here?” he rushes to say.

That makes me stop and turn to face him again. There’s a smug smile on his face as he motions at Kitten.

It makes my breathing heavy with anger.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, forcing my voice to remain flat.

“Really?” he asks, so smugly sarcastic, I want to murder him. “So you’ve been watching the dance, not stalking the little girl?”

I get in his face. “There are lots of little girls here.”

“I’m surprised you’ve noticed, since you seem to only have eyes for one,” he says with a self-satisfied smile.

The smile disappears when he adds in a low, threatening voice, “But mark my words, you’re not getting your filthy hands on her.”

It takes all I have not to throw myself at him. Instead of giving in to my urges, I look straight into his eyes. Just a little longer, I think to myself. “Such a selfless, honorable man, are you? At least that’s what you want the public to think, right?”

He squints at me.

“You don’t think there are whispers about you back there, about your time as Warden, even about your time before?” I lean to talk in his ear. “I know you left your own wife to die because you didn’t want to jeopardize a mission.”

He takes the smallest step back, his eyes narrowing. Then, to my surprise, he laughs. “Then you only know how much duty means to me.”

“Duty, really?” I let out a laugh myself. “I guess there are people who’d actually buy that. But I know exactly why you did it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s the same reason you’re not siccing your dogs on me right now.”

“To save a roomful of people from certain death? It’s really not all that mysterious.”

Just a little longer, I think as I fight to stop my eyes from darting to where she’s going.

“Vanity.” I pause to let the word sink in and it gives me pleasure when I see his nostrils flare. “It’s bad enough you’re the first Warden to ever let anyone escape. But to be the one who let an escaped prisoner worm his way into the Academy, during an event attended by this many people, some of whom are really high up on the ladder? Ouch.”

He moves to grab me by the arm. I click my tongue at him, motioning at my hand.

“If you kill the girl with that, you’ll have nothing to play with later.”

“Oh, the girl’s gone,” I say with a smile.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from me, but I see this is coming as a surprise to him.

“And I think it’s time for me to go, too.”

“I’ll send the hounds after you as soon as you walk out of this room,” he threatens me.

I just look at him for a second, a smile curling my lips. “The prisoner?” I ask, faking shocked fear as I raise my voice. “You think you saw that prisoner somewhere in the Academy?”

“Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” he threatens angrily. I can tell he’s fighting the urge to nervously glance around.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” I say. “I’m so scared, Warden.”

“Leave,” he snarls at me. “I want you to leave, right this instant.”

Unable to wipe the smug smile off my face, I start walking away, watching the almighty Warden struggle not to lose it.

Chapter 15 - Rhea

What will gran say, I ask myself, my stomach in knots, as I walk out of the noisy Main Hall and into the much quieter entrance hall.

She’ll never know, I tell myself. I’ll just pretend I stuck around until the end and write something. Lycan knows there’s not much to say about the whole thing in the first place.

Lies. Just one lie on top of another, I scold myself as I wait for the Elevator to take me back to my room. Never mentioning anything to grandma. Telling Edgar I’m feeling too sick to push through it. Planning to tell actual lies in my writing.

I close my eyes for a second, forcing myself to inhale deeply. Why do I let that scowling vampire get me so frustrated, I can’t even do my job?

My wolf shifts inside me.

The very next second, a loud, obnoxious sound makes my eyelids fling open. I frown and turn around, glancing around the mostly deserted entrance hall. The sound is the most ear-splitting siren I’ve ever heard and it’s like it’s coming from… everywhere.

Suddenly, there’s a stampede of people pouring out of the Main Hall.

My heart skips a beat. What the hell is going on?

“Lockdown,” I hear Professor Byrne, Head of House of Ydril, even before I see him elbowing his way through the crowd. “We’re on lockdown, people. Everyone back to your rooms, now!”

That last word makes my body flood with ice-cold fear. I’ve never heard Professor Byrne raise his voice, let alone yell. Are they hunting for him? Are they about to catch him? Is he even still here?

“Professor,” I start as I rush up to him, “what’s going on?”

“Not to worry, Miss Moran,” the thin, balding man says, but he barely throws me a glance, “we have a system for distributing food and drinks to dorms.”

Food and drinks, I think with a frown. What the…

That makes me want to ask how long they’re planning on keeping us locked up, but the professor is already gone.

For a second, I just remain standing there, my mind buzzing. The info I asked Edgar to find, any info on Nasgard… I have to show that scowling jerk I can get it regardless of him and his condescending ass. And I can’t bear the thought of not getting it until after the winter break.

But if I go now…

Yes, sweetness, my wolf’s voice booms inside my head, do it.

I hesitate for a second, then I turn on my heel and start marching towards the Library. I keep my head down, hoping no one notices I’m going in the wrong direction, away from the Elevator that’s going to take everyone back to their rooms.

No one does. Everyone seems too busy trying to get away as quickly as possible.

As soon as I leave the entrance hall and start climbing down the stairs to Level Minus One, the noise dies down a little.

I walk briskly, glancing around the entire time.

It’s only when I’m almost there that I notice it. The sound that makes my shoulder instantly start itching. The sound of their low yet bone-chilling growling.

I stop midstep, just before the last corner. Slowly and with bated breath, I bend forward a little to take a peek.

My mind almost goes into overdrive when I see them.

The dogs.

But it’s not them that send my heart racing. It’s the creatures leading them on leashes to sniff around the entrance into the Forbidden Section.

My eyes drag up and down their bodies, so human yet so… weirdly broken in all the wrong places. Then I notice their mouth. Muzzles, but sewn into their flesh.

I almost fail to stop myself from screaming and running the hell away. Instead, I just watch them disappear around the corner, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Do it, I tell myself, do it now.

You’re actually going to, I hear my wolf ask with surprise in her voice.

I don’t respond, I just I tear myself away from the wall and I dart towards the door into the Forbidden Section.

Oh, I’m starting to like you a lot more, sweetness.

My hand stays hovering above the handle as I hesitate for a second. There are no protection spells here, I tell myself.

But getting caught inside equals immediate expulsion.

I fight the urge to let out a frustrated groan, I open the door and I walk inside, on the tips of my toes and with bated breath.

They almost never approve student requests to get in here, so as soon as I do, the surprise at actually seeing the place makes me suck in a breath.

It’s a huge space that looks more like a cathedral, with cold, dim light entering through enormous glass-stained windows and falling on elaborately carved wood all around me.

It’s bookshelves, rows and towers of bookshelves as far as the eye can see.

Mesmerized, I start walking around, wondering how to even start looking for something here.

This was a mistake, I think to myself as I pass a stack of books lying on the floor, the titles ranging from Fiercest Wielders of Air Magic to Soul Eating 101.

For a second, I contemplate leaving.

Then I hear the flutter of wings and see a bird land on a shelf to my left.

“Raven,” I call out, my voice an excited whisper, “what’re you doing here?”

She tilts her head at me. “Reading Schroder’s History of the Scion Lands. I’ve never seen you here before, Rhea.”

It’s then that it hits me. I take a step closer, hope in my voice as I ask, “Could you help me find something? I need something on Nasgard.”

My heart thumps in anticipation.

“Sure, what’s the title?”

For a second, I stay silent. “I don’t know,” I say with a sigh, my hope deflating.

“The author?” Raven tries.

“I don’t know the details, Raven,” I say, fighting not to hiss in frustration, “I just know I need the materials.”

“Do you know anyone who checked them out?”

“What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.

“There’s an index over there,” she says as she turns her little head to her right. “And a card for every Library member with information on which books they checked out.”

I almost yell out with excitement. Hearing Raven flit after me, I rush to the filing cabinet she motioned at. She lands on its top as I start frantically searching for the right letter.

As soon as I find it, I yank the drawer open and I dig out the card.

It makes my breath catch, just seeing his name written in elegant cursive. Synn Iarro.

My heart pounding wildly, I let my eye dart to the list of books he checked out. What the…

It’s all one and the same book. My eyebrows pull down. The Companion to 16th Century Lycan Folklore.

“That’s not a book on Nasgard,” Raven says and I look up, finding her staring at the title.

“Nevermind that,” I rush to say, my voice breathless and urging. “Could you help me find this?”

“But it’s not a book on Nasgard, Rhea. is she well?” the bird asks, but I shush her with an impatient wave of my hand.

Raven flits away and one excruciatingly long moment later, returns carrying a large leather-bound tome in her claws.

“Oh my God,” I say as I grab the book. She lands on the cabinet again and I lean forward to give her a quick peck on the head. “You’re the best, Raven.”

I see her puff her chest out. “The best?” she echoes in a voice in which I sense pride.

But it’s at that exact moment that my wolf lets out a low growl and I hear them. Voices coming from the other side of the door.

I freeze.

“I have permission to search the entire premises,” I hear Wagner’s angry voice say, “not just parts of them you don’t mind me snooping around. Now move.”

Goddamn it. “How do I get out of here?” I ask, turning to look at Raven.

“Follow me,” she tells me and takes flight again, moving towards the shadows to our left.

I listen and I rush after her, my entire body tensing up in anticipation of hearing the hounds barging through the door.

But at the same time, I couldn’t be more thrilled about having the book in my hands.

Chapter 16 - Synn

As soon as I leave the Warden standing in the Main Hall, my mind rushes back to her and the smile slides off my face. He’s made me lose her.

But the moment I think that, I hear the siren and my breath catches.

What else did I expect, I think to myself, my teeth gritted as I keep walking, making sure I look just as confused as all the little sheep around me.

At first, I’m determined to go straight back to the Upside-Down Place and lay low for as long as the Warden decides to play the jailer.

But then she pops into my mind again and I slow down, my heart racing. I’ve no idea where she went and as far as I know, that fucking vampire could’ve brought all the guards and all the dogs here with him.

I stop, looking around frantically. Luckily, that makes me blend right in.

My heart skips a beat when I see it. The tail of her red dress disappear down the stairs to Level Minus One.

She’s not going to her room, as she’s supposed to. Of course she’s not.

Fucking hell, I think to myself. That girl will be the death of me.

But it’s too late. I’m already rushing after her, my mind exploding with images of the dogs hurting her.

My body vibrating with rage, I get down to the hallway leading into the Library and I glance around. There’s no one here so I tap my Tension Rune, making myself invisible to the eye.

I stop right before a corner, spotting her getting inside the Forbidden Section.

I have to take a deep breath to stop myself from charging after her. Doesn’t she know? Doesn’t she know they’re bound to come barging in there?

But I can’t. I made myself swear never to say a word to her again.

Still, I can’t walk away. Not as long as she’s not safe.

So I curse softly and I remain standing where I found myself, glancing around every now and then.

I really need to leave the Academy as soon as this is over. Maybe even leave the Upside-Down Place, I think to myself as I feel seconds turn into minutes. It’s no longer the safest place for me to be. It might even be considered the most dangerous.

Just as I think that, I see them. I suck in a breath and take a step back.

And they’re out of sight now, but I can still hear them. Their low growl and the dripping of their saliva as they approach the door to the Forbidden Section.

My mind scrambles for ways to get her out of there without being seen.

“You can’t do this,” I hear an unfamiliar, frightened voice say.

“I have permission to search the entire premises,” Wagner snaps, “not just parts of it you don’t mind me snooping around. Now move.”

I shut my eyes tight, inhaling deeply. This has just become an impossible mission.

I hear the dogs sniffing wildly and someone turn the doorknob, but at the same time, I see a door to my right start to open, slowly.

There’s only the slightest glimpse of red before I realize what I’m looking at.

She’s about to come out that door.

I can already see the dogs turning their focus onto her.

And before I know it, I find myself turning the corner.

Time slows as I move to charge straight past the things from my worst nightmares.

But it’s so much more than fear I’m feeling. I’m praying, praying to the gods I no longer believe in, that it distracts them from her, that they kill me instead of her, relief flooding me when I see their heads snap in my direction.

Then there’s the sinking feeling, the thought of dying for the woman who’d never even look at me if I didn’t force her to.

Chapter 17 - Rhea

It almost makes me happy when grandma calls to say she won’t be able to make dinner. Almost. But nothing seems to make me truly feel anything these days.

Come on, sweetness, my wolf cries out, let’s go out.

A bit later, okay?

I can tell she’s not pleased, but she’s been more cooperative lately. So she just lets me keep sitting in my room, in the armchair next to the window, watching the Moon grow more and more visible against the darkening sky. The winter break isn’t over yet so I’ve no actual work to occupy myself with, no classes, no homework, no news section meetings...

But there’s the book. The goddamn book, I think as I glance at it. The Companion to 16th Century Lycan Folklore. It’s lying on my desk, so useless yet so utterly unashamed of it.

To think I let the hounds of Nasgard almost catch me, twice. To think I let myself mess up my Ball assignment so badly, I ended up not even being considered for Assistant Editor, all for a book that has nothing to do with the prison… Or Synn.

For a second, I frown, trying to bring back the image of him.

No, I snap, forcing myself to remember, again, all the insults he threw my way when I went to see him. And he hasn’t shown his face since. So I won’t be thinking about him.

What snaps me out of my ruminations is a gentle knock on my window.

It’s him, I think as I jump out of my chair.

But when I turn to the window, all I see is a raven.

My Raven.

Frowning, I open the window and let her inside. “Raven,” I start with confusion in my voice, watching her land on my armchair’s backrest, “what’re you doing here?”

“Rhea never came to let me know she managed to escape,” the bird says in a strangely formal voice. “I thought that meant she must have gotten herself killed so I came to take the book back.”

My eyebrows pull down. I walk over to my desk and come to stand in front of the book. “I’m sorry, Raven, but as you can see, you were wrong. And I still need it.”

“Rhea has had it long enough,” the bird says as she flits around me and grabs the book from behind my back.

“Hey,” I yell out, but she’s already flying back to the window, the weight of the tome making her struggle to keep herself in the air.

I rush after her, snatching the book from her claws.

It makes me stumble back when I do, Raven turning around and starting to circle my head. “Rhea needs to give it back,” she insists.

But it’s then that it catches both our eyes. The book in my hands. Where just a minute ago there was only a gold-embossed title, now there’s a circle of light.

I sense Raven coming to land on my armchair. My mind buzzing, I let my eyes dart to the window. The sky has turned a deep shade of blue, the only thing disturbing its dark surface — the Moon’s pale disk.

“It’s the full Moon,” I mutter as I glance down at the book, my voice breathless with excitement. “It needed the light of the full Moon.”

“Rhea?” I hear Raven call out.

I hesitate for a second, but then I slowly crack the book open.

And the world around me turns into a blur, through which I barely see a fae-blooded woman in a ragged shirt dress, pressed against a stone wall in a firelit room.

My breath catches as I see a man in a cloak push past me and come to snarl at her. “Thou shalt reveal what thou hast seen, else thou shalt be burned at the stake, thou foul witch.”

I gulp, my mind buzzing, and I see the woman’s face get all twisted up as she tries her hardest not to break down. “A child shall be born,” she says in a sharp exhale. The shaking of her entire body makes the words barely intelligible. “A child shall be born, bearing Lycan’s mark.”

That makes my heart skip a beat.

The woman gulps. “Sacrificing three and twenty, she shall come to possess his heart, harness divine power and set the world ablaze.”

What the…

I see the man grab her by the collar of her dress and lift her up. “When?” he demands. “Speak, witch.”

She lets out a little sob and says, “Four hundred years from hence, on her natal day, on the day of the Blood Moon.”

As soon as she’s done talking, the woman lowers her head and looks to the side, her breath quick and shallow. My heart tightening in my chest, I can almost hear her prayer for the man to leave.

But he doesn’t. I suck in a sharp breath when, in one sudden movement, he grabs her by the arm and starts dragging her away from the wall.

“I pray thee,” she sobs as she thrashes to get away, getting louder and louder. “I have told everything. Everything, I have told everything.”

And just as I think my heart won’t be able to stand her cries any longer, the blur disappears and the world around me falls silent.

For a second, I can do nothing but stand there like a fool, trying to understand what just happened.

“Rhea?” I hear Raven call out again.

I don’t look up. “He may have been right,” I say in a shaky voice. “He may have been right about me being the villain in some prophecy.”

I hide behind my palms, feeling like crying or screaming or I don’t know what exactly.

I hear Raven flit closer to me. “Rhea can’t know that’s her,” she says.

“No, she can’t,” I admit, taking my hands off my face and finding her standing on my desk. “But she has the birthmark,” I say, gesturing at the spot right above my heart.

“That doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Raven,” I cut in, my voice brimming with anger and my hands balling into fists at the mere memory of it, “when I was a child, I shifted, for the very first and only time…” I have to pause to force myself to squeeze it out. “And I hurt people. I hurt them so much everyone shunned us after that. So add that to the goddamn birthmark and then see what it looks like!”

Raven just blinks at me. “I see,” she finally says.

“Yes,” I spit out as I turn to start pacing the room. “I’ve done enough damage already,” I say with fierce determination in my voice. “The thing I did when I was little and now all this…” I stop to do an angry wave with my hand. “Keeping an escaped goddamn prisoner’s location secret, I mean, how could I not think I’m destined to become some cartoon goddamn villain.”

“She’s not a cartoon, Rhea,” I hear Raven say with apprehension in her voice.

“But you know what, Raven?” I say as I turn back to her sharply, raising a determined finger. “That was it for me. I’ve let myself keep unraveling long enough and it’s ending right now. From now on, I won’t give a single thought to the breakout and I won’t let my wolf stick a single goddamn paw out.”

Hey, my wolf protests, I did nothing wrong. Why are you taking this out on me?

It’s just at that very moment that I hear a knock at the door.

Making myself snap out of it, I yell out, “Coming,” and wave at Raven to make herself scarce, moving to go open the door.

“No, Rhea,” Raven says, making me stop midstep and turn to look at her, frowning. “I won’t be leaving her side.”

There’s another knock at the door. I have to fight not to yell at her. “You’re a raven, Raven. There’s nothing you can do about any of this. Now, leave.”

She just blinks at me for a second. But I’m so pissed and I’m throwing daggers at her, so she finally does as she’s told.

Taking another deep breath to calm myself, I turn on my heel, I walk over to the door and I open it.

What I see outside makes me swallow the “Hi” and stay silent instead.

It’s Synn, one hand gripping onto the top of the doorframe as the rest of his body sags. In the other hand, he’s holding a knife. And it’s pointed straight at me.

Chapter 18 - Rhea

For a second, I just look at the criminal standing in front of my door. My wolf seems to be just as dumbstruck.

“The salve,” Synn slurs in some kind of delirium. There’s sweat and dirt clinging to every inch of his body, but what draws the attention is the fresh blood soaking the shirt on his shoulder and the way he seems to struggle keeping his bloodshot eyes open.

It all softens and washes away my anger.

“Give me the salve,” he orders as he strains to raise the knife a little higher.

As if he thinks I can’t see the goddamn thing.

I throw a quick glance over his shoulder and around the deserted common room. Then I fix my eyes back on him. “Put that away,” I tell him, my eyebrows pulling down. And I’m strangely unafraid, but the lack of concern in my voice still surprises me.

When I step aside to let him in, he squints at me for a second. But then he lowers the knife and stumbles inside. I shut the door behind him, taking a moment to inhale deeply before I turn around.

When I do, I see him standing in the middle of my room, his body swaying in a struggle to stay upright. I rush to get the salve, the one my grandmother used to heal my own wound. I come to stand in front of him, already moving to give him the little glass jar, but then my eye darts to his shoulder again. I press my lips tight.

“Show me,” I tell him, despite wondering if I really want him to.

“It’s none of your business,” he slurs as he moves to grab the jar from my hand.

I snatch my hand away and throw him a determined look.

For a second, he just stands there, his breathing slow but ragged and his eyes struggling to stay open. Then he lifts the sleeve of his shirt high enough for me to see it.

I suck in a breath, my stomach churning. There’s a web of green veins leading up to them. I think they’re bite marks, but they’re deep and it looks like he picked at them and made them even worse, the wound now a mess of torn flesh and sickly green puss oozing.

Unable to tear my eyes away from the wound, I let out a choked-up breath and I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t think the salve will be enough,” I mutter as I look up at him, “I think you should go to the Fae Realm. I could get you well enough to get there.”

I see him clench his jaw before he snarls, “Not a chance in hell.” He raises the knife again and moves to snatch the jar.

But I just take a few steps back. I feel a pang of sympathy as I watch him stumble after me. I let out a sigh and make my decision.

I motion at the chair in front of my desk and say, “Sit down and take your shirt off.”

He just looks at me for a second. In that second, I can’t help but feel worried about being so out of my depth.

But then he shakes his head and peels the shirt off and I have to look away, my breath catching at the sight of his bare chest. Mine, my wolf drawls, lust lining her voice. What the… Ignore it, just ignore it and keep going, I tell myself.

With the corner of my eye, I see Synn get into the chair, splaying his legs out and letting his head fall back. And I feel my wolf’s desire threatening to overpower me. Quickly, I shove her deep inside, deeper than usual. I did say I’d do this regardless, I tell her.

I take a deep breath and nod with determination. “Right, first things first,” I say as I rush to the bathroom to get the painkillers.

When I return with two white pills in my hand, he frowns and tries to slap it away. His voice is raspy and pained when he says, “No. Those will make my brain wonky.”

As if it isn’t already, I think to myself. I throw him a look that says I mean business. “You will take them.”

He groans, but he does as he’s told. Then he lets his head fall to the side.

“Now,” I say, bracing myself as my mind scrambles to remember everything grandma taught me about these kinds of things. Just fill the wound first, I think to myself as I take the lid off the jar and grab some salve with my fingers.

I come a little closer and I reach out my hand.

The next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the wrist, leaning forward as he growls, “Don’t touch me.”

I break my arm free and I get in his face. “Stop being a baby,” I say through gritted teeth, throwing him the sternest look I can muster.

For a second, he just throws daggers at me. Then he falls back in the chair, somehow wincing and scoffing at the same time.

Finally, I dab some of the whitish, fragrant paste onto the wound. He lets out a low grunt and that makes me want to stop, but I only need to actually look at the flesh in front of me to keep going.

I work, carefully and in silence, despite all the distractions. There’s the heat radiating off his body. There’s his smell, musky and somehow fresh even with all that sweat and dirt. And every time he lets out a grunt, one of his knees jerks a little, bumping against my thigh.

Feeling my cheeks burning up, I try to fight the embarrassment by asking, “How long have you been letting this fester exactly?” My voice is scolding.

“Does it matter?” comes an answer that is still slurred, but doesn’t sound so pained.

I put another dab of the salve on the wound and it’s not started closing yet, but he doesn’t even tense up. I lean back a little to look at him and I realize the painkillers must have started working.

His head is resting on the chair so he’s looking at me from an angle. And he’s doing it in a way that makes it clear he’s not himself, but the eyes are calmer now.

I glance at the wound and then back at him. “This is not something the hounds have done to you,” I say in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. “This is something worse.”

“You can say that again,” he drawls matter-of-factly, frowning in confusion as he keeps looking at me. “It was one of the guards.”

I don’t keep treating his wound, I just stand real still, my breath bated. “And how are they worse?”

His eyes are still feverish, but they give me nothing, absolutely nothing when he starts in a bone-tired voice, “They bite, just like the dogs, but they have these muzzles with spikes that are venomous. And they’re enchanted to track you when they get stuck inside your flesh. I had to get them all out.”

Just imagining him do it makes me shudder. But that’s the longest I’ve ever heard him talk.

My heart skips a beat. But it’s only when I decide to ask, that I feel myself get choked up. “What was it like there?” I don’t bother specifying where.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look away. “Dark and silent,” he starts in a flat voice. “So deeply dark and dead silent, you want to gouge your eyes out and cut your ears off just to hear or see something.”

My heart is racing, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

“But then they come for you,” he continues with a calm stare, as if he’s telling me a story he’s never lived through, “never when you expect them, and they do these things to you that are so much worse, you can only beg for what you once thought was torture beyond compare.” He pauses a little before he adds, “And that’s how they get you.”

There’s a moment of silence before I can no longer bear the anticipation. “Get you?” I ask in a breathless voice.

“To become one of them,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You mean to say,” I ask as my eyes round in shock, “those creatures, the guards…”

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even nod. But I feel my blood curdle at the very thought that those were regular Originals at one point.

I gulp. “That’s…” I break off, trying to find words. “Terrible.”

To my surprise, he lets out a rough laugh.

I frown.

“You don’t get it,” he tells me as he pushes himself up a little, making my frown grow deeper. “There’s only one thing separating that place from the rest of the world.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says with a strange spark in his eyes. “In there, the illusion can’t survive, it’s got nothing to feed on. The illusion that life is anything but death and suffering. So in a way, that place is the only place true to what life really is.”

There’s something so seductive about the fervent tone of his voice, but it’s the look in his eyes that renders me speechless. The pain, so silent but so deep. It crashes down on me like a wave, the need to make it go away.

I make myself snap out of it, I gulp and I ask, “Have you always thought that way? Is that how you ended up in there?”

And I want him to tell me why he killed those people, I want it so badly, I’m barely breathing as I wait for the answer.

But he just stares at me. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly shakes his head and clicks his tongue, his eyes transfixing me.

“You know,” he starts in a low voice and gently moves a strand of hair out of my face. His fingers brushing my skin make my breath hitch and I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from his. “When I first came to see you, all those years ago…”

I frown. What the hell is he talking about?

“I remember looking into your eyes, thinking, she’s still just a child,” he continues as he keeps staring at me. “So I said nothing, but over the years, I stopped believing it was true, my impression from that day. I mean, how could you blame me?”

I press my lips tight. “Look,” I cut him off, grabbing more salve out of the forgotten jar. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to…” Strangely offended that he could mistake me for someone else even in this condition, I’m determined not to look at him again. “But your wound is almost healed and I really need you to keep still so I can finish this and you can leave.”

“As you wish, Kitten,” he slurs and leans back.

I don’t waste time. With rushed, angry movements, I keep rubbing the salve on his wound, watching the jagged corners slowly close up. And the more they do, the more I feel Synn tense up under my fingers.

He’s getting back to his regular self, I think to myself even before it happens. He moves to get up, the push of his chest making me stumble back a little. “I think that’s enough,” he growls.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I rush to say, my voice all weird.

And he’s already grabbing his shirt off the floor and he’s about to pull it back on, but everything inside me is screaming no.

I rush to stand in front of him, my mind scrambling for possible reasons.

“I should really bandage that for you, you know,” I say and I don’t even wait for an answer.

I just go grab the stuff and I come back, where he’s waiting in some kind of surly silence. And his smell and this strange thrill flooding my senses make me want to linger, but they also make me hasty. So I make a quick business of it.

“There,” I say as I finish the knot. “All ready to go.”

He lets out a grunt that might possibly be interpreted as a ‘thank you’ and, well, I don’t know what happens. I just find myself leaning in a little and giving the skin next to the bandage a quick peck.

Even as I do it, I feel him tense up. No, no, no, you stupid girl, I curse myself as I avoid looking up.

“What’re you doing?” he asks in a tense, low voice, echoing my thoughts.

“I just,” I start as I finally dare to look up. “A kiss to make it better,” I say with an awkward shrug, dismay at what I’ve just said flooding me even before I finish saying it.

For a second, he remains silent, his eyes more intense on me than ever before.

“I’m not a good man, Kitten,” he says, his voice low and breathless, “you do know that?”

“Thanks for your input,” I snap at him, “but I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

“Bad ones, at least,” he whispers.

I throw him a defiant look. “You’d be the first to say that,” I say as I come a little closer and brush the skin I just kissed with the tips of my fingers. “But you’d be right.”

He just looks at me for a second with those narrowed eyes.

Then he grabs me by the back of my neck, making me suck in a sharp breath, and he crushes his lips on mine, forcing them open with his tongue. It’s aggressive and urgent, the way he kisses me. It makes my entire body burn with desire. I throw my arms around him, my breathing ragged and my back arching in a desperate effort to get even closer, to feel even more of his body, its heat and its hardness.

I want to touch him all over. I need to feel every last bit of him. I pull away a little to slide my hands down his chest and back up, feeling wetness pool between my thighs as I run my hands up his neck and through his hair. He lets out a lustful grunt, grabs me by the waist, lifts me up, spins around with me in his arms and slams me onto my desk.

It makes my breath catch. His hands around my waist, he’s kissing me even more forcefully now. I’m throbbing for him. I wrap my legs tighter around his hips, letting out a moan when I feel the hardness of his cock press into my stomach.

That makes him pull away and fix his eyes on mine. They’re glazed over and the look they’re throwing me is so hot, it makes my knees go weak and my heart start pounding wildly.

His jaw clenches and he lets go of my waist, not breaking eye contact as he grabs the front of my shirt with both hands, my stomach sinking even before I realize what’s about to happen.

He rips it off me in one quick, merciless move.

Shame comes crashing down on me like a rain of icicles.

There’s the sound of buttons popping and then a second of silence before I feel myself lift my hand and… slap him, rushing to pull the ripped shirt back over my chest.

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes as he runs his hand over his cheek in silence. I see him grit his teeth as he keeps staring at me, sobered up and frowning.

But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted him, I’ve never wanted anything more. I just can’t have him see me. So I take a step closer. He takes one back, his frown growing bigger and my heart sinking lower.

Chapter 19 - Synn

She slaps me. My mind blank with lust, it scrambles to catch up. She fucking slapped me.

Is this hot for her? My eyebrows pull down as I search her eyes for an answer.

She’s standing in front of the desk, pulling her shirt tightly over her chest and throwing me a defiant look. But there’s something else in her eyes… something I’m seeing for the first time.

Innocent, she looks so fucking innocent all of a sudden. A burning pang of regret shoots through me, regret for ever having laid my filthy paws on her.

So when she takes a step closer, that something still in her eyes, I take one back.

I urge myself to get the fuck out, but she’s so close and my mouth waters at the very thought of feeling her tongue brush against mine again.

Then she takes another step closer and I fail to move a muscle.

Without breaking eye contact, she lifts her hand to touch me. Fucking slap it away and leave, I snap at myself. But I do absolutely nothing to stop her from running her fingers down my chest, making warm shivers explode down my spine.

And just as all blood flows back into my cock, her hand starts sliding farther down, making me swallow a grunt. It takes all I have to grab her wrist and yank her hand away, shooting her a look that’s supposed to communicate she shouldn’t be doing this. Not with me, at least.

But the look in her eyes is telling me she wants it, making me imagine hearing that moan again. And I want it so badly, to make her feel good, that I just do it.

I make her walk back to her desk again. She leans against it, resting her palms behind her back as she looks into my eyes, her breath hitching.

I decide not to let this get to my head so I don’t let myself kiss her, I just get down on my knees. I don’t have to have sex with her to give her what she wants, I think as my breathing becomes ragged. I hear her suck in a breath as I spread her legs apart and get my head under her skirt.

I try to ignore it, the way it feels to be between her thighs. But I fail to resist wrapping my fingers around her thighs and I give them both a squeeze, heat washing over me and making my movements rushed when I pull her panties to the side.

As I grab her by the hips, my heart throbs with anticipation.

Then my mouth finds it, the delicious little button on her pussy, and I feel her grab onto my shoulders and I hear her let out a moan.

And just like the first time I heard it, it flips a switch in me. I can’t play it cool anymore. I grab her tighter and I pull her pussy closer to my mouth, kissing and teasing it with my tongue, each moan that escapes her lips making it harder to stay down, to keep my dick in my pants.

First, I get her to arch her back and clench my head with her thighs, then I get her to grind herself against my mouth, pulling at my hair as mercilessly as I’m eating her sweet little pussy out.

My dick throbbing with the need to be inside her, I make my tongue work even harder. I feel her entire body tense up and I listen to her moan as I tip her over the edge, the sounds coming from her lips the hottest, most mesmerizing sounds I’ve ever heard.

My breathing ragged, I pull away from her a little, feeling her body relax, and I wipe my mouth with my hand. This is it, this is all I get. And it’s more than I ever thought I would, but when I get from under her skirt and I lock eyes with her, there’s only one thing going through my mind.

Innocent or not, to her, I’m just a bad decision, I think as hot rage floods my entire body.

She didn’t want me. She wanted the danger. And she knew I wouldn’t be able to resist her.

Chapter 20 - Rhea

I’m still panting, strands of hair stuck to my sweaty forehead, when he gets out from under my skirt and pushes himself off the floor. I reach for his belt, eager to finally get him inside me.

But he pushes my hand away and turns to walk away. Without a single glance.

I frown, feeling cripplingly self-conscious as I pull my panties out of my ass. “You’re leaving?” I ask his back, as the pathetic, messed up little girl that I am.

“Why? Want me to have tea with you?” he snaps, throwing me a cold, indecipherable look over his shoulder.

It makes me want to curl up somewhere dark and die.

But just as he’s about to climb onto my windowsill, I rush to block his way, desperate to save face, to show him I don’t care either. When I do, he stops, but he just squints at me.

“We actually have something to discuss,” I snap at him, fighting the shame washing over my entire body.

“And what would that be?” he asks with tension and a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

“Well,” I start, starting to feel both the fear and the excitement again, “just today, actually, I found out you were probably right.”

He folds his arms. “Right about what?”

I pause for a second, the very thought of saying the words out loud frightening me. “The prophecy. Me and the prophecy.”

He gets in my face, sending my heart racing. “What did you do?” he growls.

My voice is breathless when I say, “I have the book you last checked out.”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. “The book of prophecy?” He seems to snap out of it, going back to growling at me. “You’ll return it where you found it.”

“But I know now, I know you’re trying to stop it,” I insist. “Maybe we could work together.”

“You know nothing,” he snaps.

That makes me frown. “I don’t understand you,” I mutter.

His eyebrows pull down. “You think I give a fuck?”

Anger and embarrassment wash over me. “Fine,” I snap, “but the least you can do is tell me what you know.”

He doesn’t hesitate a second. “No,” he says in a flat voice and moves to push past me.

“Fine, I’ll find out myself,” I rush to say, defiance in my voice.

He stops and gets in my face again. “The hell you will,” he growls, his chest heaving. He glances around my room. “You’re gonna go back to hoarding pink stuff, making to-do lists and bossing people around.” He pauses for a second before he drawls threateningly, “Understood?”

I grit my teeth, blood rushing to my cheeks. “Who do you think you are,” I spit out, “telling me what to do?”

He closes his eyes for a split second, inhaling deeply. “Are you stupid or crazy or both?” he says through gritted teeth. “The book tends to destroy people who find it.”

“You think I give a fuck?” I hiss, choosing to throw his words back at him.

He just throws daggers at me for a second, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. “Well, you won’t be getting any help from me,” he growls.

And before I know it, he’s turning on his heel, grabbing onto my window frame and leaving me fuming, jumping out in a way that no man who was hurt so badly just a minute ago should be able to manage.

Chapter 21 - Rhea

It’s only when the girl glances at me that I realize I’ve been staring at her. I quickly look away. You idiot, Rhea, I scold myself, it’s been months since your little article’s been rejected. But it still stings. And even over all the noise in the cafeteria, I can still hear them laughing. Griselda, Siobhan, Lhoris and the girl. The one who’s better than I am. The one who’ll do the Trials justice.

Doesn’t matter, I scoff to myself. I have my story to work on, something so much more important than the goddamn Trials.

It’s the buzzing of my phone that snaps me out of it. Grandma. It’s a beautiful April day and she’ll want to have dinner in one of the courtyards, but… I think for a second, but then decide to ignore the call. As usual, guilt doesn’t take long to punch me in the gut.

What kind of granddaughter am I? Hiding so much from her…

But the very thought of coming clean and having to see her so disappointed makes my insides twist with burning shame.

Oh, like that’s important right now, I snap at myself. I’ve got better things to think about. Like the destruction I’m supposed to bring on my twenty-fourth birthday. June 21st, that’s a little more than two months from now. As the familiar dread settles deep inside my stomach, I force myself to go back to my notes and stare at the names.

The names of the people who got their hands on the book and died. Where could they lead me? Let’s see.

They all died in the last forty two years.

They were all Lycan worshippers.

And they were all members of a Deep Web forum dedicated to the lost prophecy.

Those are the facts. What would be some of the possible theories? I run my fingers over my mouth, thinking.

They were looking for the prophecy in hopes of being the ones it speaks about.

Or, they were hoping the prophecy would reveal to them a way to harness Lycan’s power regardless of the child. What I believe the man attacking that witch back in the sixteenth century was after.

“A child shall be born, bearing Lycan’s mark. Sacrificing three and twenty, she shall come to possess his heart, harness divine power and set the world ablaze. Four hundred years from hence, on her natal day, on the day of the Blood Moon.”

I know it by heart.

As usual, it makes my mind jump straight to imagining it, the destruction that’s supposed to happen.

Why? And on what scale? I’m picturing the Earth itself being destroyed, but no, that can’t be.

And in the middle of all that… Me?

But right there, I arrive at something I can’t even think about. It makes ‘Devil’ echo through my mind, my teeth gritted and the rest of the world drowned out.

It’s only when my pencil snaps in two that I snap out of it. I shake my head and clear my throat and pop another pill.

At least I’m keeping my wolf suppressed so well, I have to really focus if I want to feel her.

And I’ve checked all the lunar calendars I could get my hands on, and this year, there shouldn’t be a Blood Moon on my birthday, which means I still might not be the One.

There’s another buzz coming from my phone. Just don’t let it be grandma, I think as I throw a glance at the screen.

It’s not. It’s Tony, the fifth guy I've been talking to since I got drunk alone in my room and installed Flingr.

“Heyy gorgeous,” the text says.

I roll my eyes and turn off the screen. I mean, am I really expected to fall for someone whose way of expressing himself is putting two goddamn Ys in ‘hey’?

Why are all the guys so…

I let out a frustrated sigh, reminding myself it’s always been that way. And that’s exactly why I’ll still go on a date with Tonyy.

It’s at that moment that my eyes dart up and I see Edgar, my favorite Assistant Editor, elbowing through the crowd in my direction. But he’s not grinning as he usually does, I notice as my eyebrows pull down.

Goddamnit, I scold myself. What did I do?

“I got something for you,” he says, a bit coldly, as he takes a seat. Without a tray in his hands. Suspicious. But then again, I myself am fasting, so...

“Yeah?” I ask with hesitation in my voice, squinting at him in an effort to gauge what’s happening.

He hesitates a little, then lets out a little sigh and digs something out of his shirt pocket. It’s just a piece of paper, but my breath still catches as I watch him slide it, face down, across the table. So mysterious.

“What’s that?” I whisper as I take it in my hand, glance around and then carefully flip it over.

“Please read it just once,” he starts with concern in his voice, “and give it back to me so I can burn it or something.”

I barely register his last words because there he is, staring at me from the piece of paper. Synn. And at the very same time, not. I frown, my heart breaking as I stare at the younger version. Short hair. No scars. Clean shirt. But what stands out the most is the smile. He’s smiling.

I hear Edgar clear his throat and I rush to read. The piece of paper is a photocopy of some old article from the Grimm Academy Gazette. And it’s about a freshman by the name of Synn Iarro being given an award for his work in Divination, the study of prophecies.

“Wow,” I say, all choked-up even though I’m fighting it, “thanks, Edgar.”

When I look up at him, he still seems so serious. “It’s basically nothing,” he dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “But it’s all I could get. My uncle’s become one of them,” he says with an eye roll.

“You mean the collectors?” I ask, pressing my lips tight.

“I don’t understand them,” he says with a shake of his head. “What is it that makes it attractive to them? I mean, why would you want to collect things like this?”

“Well,” I start, pausing to think a little, although I know already, “I guess it’s exciting, owning something that’s banned because it’s information on an infamous escaped prisoner.”

“I guess,” he concedes with a sigh. “Anyway, that’s just a copy,” he says as he points at the paper, “but it’s still illegal, so…”

It’s then that it hits me. “Did you get in trouble over this, Ed?” I ask, hoping so earnestly that the answer will be no.

“A little,” he admits. “Had to lie to my uncle and I don’t think he really bought it. So I’m under watchful eyes now. But to be honest, I’m more worried about having it on me.”

“I’m so sorry, Ed,” I say as I lean a little forward, my face scrunched up in apology. “But I swear it won’t go to waste, your trouble,” I start, lowering my voice. “It wasn’t in the papers, but a week ago, I overheard someone telling my grandma that they’ve found his case files.”

“Case files?” Edgar asks with a frown. “Really?”

I nod solemnly. “Yes. You know which district has them because it’s the district he grew up in?”

“Bloodholm,” Edgar guesses, clearly intrigued by the information.

“Exactly,” I say. “And just this morning, I sent a request to the Bloodholm Authority Office to give me all the documentation they have. And I introduced myself as the Assistant to the District Attorney.”

Edgar just looks at me, frowning. “You did not do that.”

“I did,” I reply, a spark of excitement igniting in my stomach.

“You do know they’ll just do a check and find out it wasn’t the District Attorney’s assistant who reached out?”

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “That’s why I finished the email saying, if you have any questions or want to check my security level, my superior asked to give him a call.”

Edgar just shakes his head with a frown. “And how’s that supposed to help?”

I let out a laugh. “Ed, who is the current District Attorney?”

“Um, Blair.”

“And who wants to have anything to do with Blair?” I say with a smirk.

It’s then that I see it hit him. He snaps his fingers and says, “I see what you did there.”

Then he frowns again. “This story of yours,” he says and pauses a little. “You know, I’d be glad to keep helping, despite…” He throws his palm back. “Earlier. I just didn’t know that’s how much you cared, enough to do stuff like this, I mean.”

It makes me gulp, the attention suddenly turning to me. Why have I allowed myself to be this open about it all?

But Edgar doesn’t let me respond. Squinting at me, he lets out a laugh and says, “I guess I only thought I knew you, R.”

But just as he finishes, his eyes dart to a spot behind me and he tenses up. I very casually glance over my shoulder and see Wagner’s presence parting the crowd like Moses parted the Red Sea.

Edgar makes me look away, getting up, grabbing the piece of paper off the table and crushing it in his hand. “Thanks for the advice, Rhea,” he says in a voice that almost doesn’t sound fake. “I think I’ll go with the black. And it’s kind of urgent, so…”

I nod and I smile, but I’m focusing on the man rapidly approaching me. Just as Edgar zaps himself away, I have to turn to look at Wagner, who’s now taking my colleague’s chair and sitting down.

Goddamn it. And he looks even more dangerous now that he’s worn out, from the hunt probably, his eyes a little feverish, his skin sagging and the red stains on his lips more pronounced.

Alright, Rhea, you can do this.

“Did you really think,” he drawls menacingly as he slides his forearms down the table to get more in my face, “that I wouldn’t find out about your little alias? You thought that the incompetency of those idiots at the Bloodholm Office would stop me?”

I take a deep breath in preparation. “I did nothing illegal,” I say, my voice as calm and determined as I set out to make it. “The law only talks about ‘owning’, not ‘trying to obtain.’”

I rest my case, I think to myself as I lean back in the chair, folding my arms and waiting for the reaction with bated breath.

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he lets out a dragged-out, mocking laugh that has his shoulders bobbing up and down. When he fixes his eyes back on me, he abruptly turns serious. “You do know your boyfriend’s no longer hiding here?”

I can’t stop my eyebrows from shooting up, if even for a split second. What the… but I quickly stop myself from finishing the thought.

My heart starts racing when his lips tug into a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, I had you watched and I saw you try to get in there.”

I have to fight not to show emotions. Is he going to arrest me, is all I can think about. Still, I manage to say, calmly, “I don’t know what you mean when you say ‘in there’. Maybe you could clarify.”

He lets out another laugh and leans a bit forward. “You know, when you first jumped me in here, I thought you were just some preppy little girl hungry for some excitement in her boring little life.”

It stings, but I manage not to show it.

“But then I send my hounds in search of him,” he says, dropping his voice, “and they… they find you.”

“So what?”

He ignores me. “You know what I thought for weeks after that?” he asks with a feverishness in his voice. And he doesn’t wait for an answer. “I thought that, for whatever reason, he picked you as his next victim and has something with your smell on him or something. You know how those people can be.”

I feel myself grimace in disgust.

“But then, at the Ball…”

The Ball? My mind scrambles to remember. But I know I didn’t see him at the Ball.

“I see him watching you…”

My heart thumps in anticipation.

“And I see you glancing over your shoulder, constantly,” he says, making me frown. “And I finally connect the dots. You can’t be the next victim…” He gives a sly smile.

It makes me angry, how much he’s enjoying this.

“If you’re the accomplice.”

I force myself to let out a laugh. “With all due respect, Warden, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I don’t really care what you think about it,” he says, matter-of-factly. “As long as you do as you’re told.”

And it makes me frown, both what he says and how he says it. But as he watches me, I start feeling drowsy. All of a sudden, my eyes are so tired and I can barely move.

The Warden’s voice booms inside my head. “You’re going to go to him,” he starts in a low, hypnotic voice, “right now.”

It sends my heart racing. And there’s a part of me that thinks I’m going to get up now and start walking somewhere. But nothing happens, simply because I wouldn’t know where to find him.

Wagner squints at me for one long moment, then lets out a scoff and releases me from the bonds of his magic.

And I’m not moving, at all, but it still feels like dragging myself out of a swamp.

I glance around and then turn to throw daggers at him. “You can’t use that kind of magic on civilians, it’s dangerous.”

He just shrugs.

“You want to be seen as an honorable man,” I rush to say as I watch him get up.

He stops to throw me a look. “I am,” he says coldly. “That’s the only reason I did this.”

An image of Synn smiling pops into my head and that makes my blood boil. He’s already standing, but I only raise my voice a little when I say through gritted teeth, “You’re really that sure of yourself, are you?”

There’s a flash through his eyes, but of what, I wouldn’t know. “What I’m sure of, Miss Moran, is that we’ll see each other again at some point.”

“I don’t know where he is,” I snap.

“That much is clear,” he says as he adjusts his suit jacket. “But don’t worry, it’s only a matter of time when he comes to see you.” He pauses to give me another stare of those cold, white eyes of his. “And when he does, I’ll be watching.”

I have to fight not to scream as he turns his back on me and vanishes into thin air.

It’s only then that it occurs to me. When he comes to see you. That’s what he said.

But he’s wrong, he won’t come to see me, I think to myself. And for a second, a smile tugs at my lips. Then it slides right off my face, shame washing over me when I fail to stop myself from remembering what happened the last time I saw him. How I managed to feel safer with an escaped prisoner than I feel with people who aren’t objectively dangerous and potentially insane. So safe, I actually threw myself at him, again and again.

As usual, it makes me think there must be something even more wrong with me than I thought. And the way he acted afterwards… It only makes me seem that much more unhinged.

That cold, cold look in his eyes right after I let him touch me the way I never let anyone before… The shame burns so bright, it threatens to make me start screaming.

No, I will not think about that right now, I snap at myself.

I grab my notebook off the table and I force myself to fix my eyes back on the names. But it only makes me start fuming again. For Wagner to think he got the situation all figured out… And he himself is so obviously groping in the dark. Siccing his dogs on me instead of Synn. Sniffing around the Restricted Section instead of the hallway.

That makes my head snap up, my eyes narrowing as it hits me.

Unless, when he went to the Restricted Section, it wasn’t Synn, or at least not only Synn he was looking for.

My mind floods with the memory of that student bringing him the book on the lost prophecy. What the…

How did I not see this before, I think as I absent-mindedly start getting ready to leave. Wagner is someone with ties to both my ex-stalker and the prophecy.

I get up and start walking out of the cafeteria, determination making me push my chest out. I don’t know what that means, but if I could only check the case files… Maybe they mention either Wagner or the prophecy.

Luckily, I think with a smile, him coming to see me has, completely randomly, resulted in something potentially game-changing. I now know that the Bloodholm Authority Office is aware of the Warden’s disapproval of their security protocols and his fear that the escaped prisoner’s files could be stolen.

And maybe the Warden has an assistant as well.

Chapter 22 - Synn

I’m already on the third-floor fire escape, looking through the window and into Diotrih Siskin’s apartment when he himself walks in. The apartment is just as Gothic and just as rundown as all the other apartments on the west side of Bloodholm. And the moon is reflecting off the glass, but I still see everything he does, the whole tedious homecoming ritual. Neatly arranging the dress shoes. Carefully folding the suit jacket. Getting on his knees and praying in front of a Lilith shrine in one corner of the room, the candles casting an eerie light onto the crescent moon impaled on an upturned cross.

He’s nothing like I imagined him, I think as I squint to see the man better. And it’s got nothing to do with his scrawny looks. It’s that he has the air of someone who never actually dares to do anything.

But that doesn’t change the fact that, a couple of days ago, when I went to steal the report from my case files, I found his signatures all over them. So I squint and I keep watching him as he finishes his prayer, gets off the floor and goes to throw himself on the couch in the middle of the room.

I did a quick background check and found out he was working for Wagner at the time. Coincidence or not? To be honest, I don’t have a hard time imagining the Warden of Nasgard turning out to be the one who set me up.

Siskin whips out his phone and I let out an annoyed sigh. Do I really want to spend the next couple of hours watching him scroll through his social media? Even if he is the person who set me up, this is no way to find out. Maybe I should just get back when he’s not here.

Just as I think that, among the honking of the cars and the chatter of people through open windows, I hear screaming and yelling from somewhere behind me, my muscles tensing up. The man I’m watching seems to freeze as well, but then he relaxes and just goes back to staring at his phone.

Me? I keep still, but I glance over my shoulder, scanning the dark alley between his and the neighboring building. Now, being a vampire city, Bloodholm is a place that never sleeps, so nothing would surprise me. But there’s no one out here.

I relax and I turn to keep watching the man.

But then I hear the sirens, the Authority sirens blaring through the streets.

I clench my jaw. I know they’re probably here because of the screaming I just heard, but I can’t be taking any chances.

So I turn around and I jump, coming into a crouch on the filthy street below. When I push myself up, the first thing I see is the light of the approaching sirens dispelling the darkness of the alley.

I don’t hesitate. I tap my Rune and dart out.

I only stop when I step onto the main street, my muscles relaxing when I find myself swallowed by the crowd. Bloodholm towers over me from all sides, its gritty Gothic buildings alive with countless illuminated windows. I let the procession of vintage cars rush past me, honking, before I cross the street and enter yet another dark alley.

I spot the place and stalk over to it. The sounds from the main street all fall away and, now, the only thing I can hear is the rhythmic pounding of music from behind the door. It’s a paneled one with stained-glass windows, so dirty and murky that the light barely seeps through.

I push the door open and walk into a cramped, dimly lit bar, the low, psychedelic music making my heart pound in its rhythm. I elbow my way through the drunken crowd and to the other side of the room.

There, the bead curtain awaits and I walk through it to find myself in a narrow hallway lit by green gas lamps.

I slow down almost as soon as I step foot in it. And even though there are people aimlessly and silently roaming the series of winding hallways I start walking down, I break the spell masking my actual facial features.

Almost instantly, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, the weight of having to test the limits of my magic around the clock. My breathing deepens and slows down. I keep roaming, passing entrances into rooms with people fucking, taking puffs from shishas on elaborate round tables, or just lying around, splayed out on velvet couches, oriental rugs, weathered parquet.

And I’m headed straight for the room all the way to the back, the one I keep to myself by supplying the owner with significant amounts of stolen black-market goods.

But before I get there, I notice someone following me.

I tense up, but I don’t stop walking.

It’s a woman, a vampire, that much I could gather with the corner of my eye. I slow down a little, bracing myself for having to run.

But when she appears in front of me, the look in her eyes is the only kind of look I ever see here. Vacant and glazed.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

But then she takes a step closer and moves to touch my bicep. I grab her by the wrist and throw her a warning look, but it doesn’t faze her.

“Anyone ever tell you,” she starts in a low drawl, “you look just like that guy.”

My heart skips a beat, but I force myself to let go of her hand and give her a smile. “Which one?”

“The one everyone’s looking for,” she says and I feel my eyebrows pull down.

But she just drags her eyes down my chest. “Gods, you’re hot,” she says in a breathless voice. “You know…” She looks up to stare into my eyes suggestively as she motions at a closed door behind her. “There’s a room that’s never used.”

“No, thanks,” I say and I push past her.

She doesn’t follow and I keep walking to my new hiding spot, but it all makes the longing hit me, again, straight in the gut, twisting and ripping as my mind floods with the images of someone else. Someone with a love of danger who used me to get a fix.

As I turn a corner, I have to tell myself the same thing I told myself a million times before. That even after what happened in her room, I still haven’t been with a woman in over nine years. That that’s what makes the longing so strong and so difficult to bear.

But wasn’t that a woman back there, I begrudgingly ask myself.

I stop midstep.

And I decide to put an end to all the fucking nonsense once and for all. I turn on my heel and start walking back to her with determination in my step. She’s standing in front of a painting, an old oil one, staring at it with her head tilted back and her body swaying in the rhythm of music. All thin, pale and angular, she looks nothing like Kitten.

Good, I think as I slowly approach her from the back. She glances over her shoulder and when her eyes land on mine, she just gives me a self-satisfied smile, turns around and leads me into a small, dark room with none of the adornments of the rest of the establishment.

She closes the door, I take her by the waist and I walk her to the wall.

Her eyes turn even more glazed as she slowly reaches into my pants and takes my dick in her hand.

It responds, but with no passion whatsoever.

She starts jerking me, her lips parted and her breathing heavy. “So big...”

It doesn’t make me feel anything. I grit my teeth, frustration building in me, so I reach for her ass and I squeeze it tight.

She lets out a moan and starts jerking me with more vigor. Still, nothing.

Angry, I grab her hand, I yank it away from my dick and I slam it against the wall. Her eyes round, but she seems to like it. “Be bossy,” I order in a low, breathless voice.

There’s a flash of surprise in her eyes, but then her lips curl into a smile. She leans to whisper in my ear, “You trying to tell me what to do?”

The words set my entire body on fire. All of a sudden, my mind is flooding with the images of her eyes, my nose with the smell of her hair and my mouth with the taste of her pussy.

I lift the woman up and I bury my nose in her neck as she wraps her legs around me, her spine arching. Holding her with one arm, I pull my pants down with the other, setting free my now rock-hard dick.

“Keep talking,” I tell her through gritted teeth as she rubs herself against me.

I feel her lips brush my ear, my heart thundering in anticipation. And then she whispers, “You gonna be a good boy to mama?”

And just like that, it all comes crashing to the ground. She’d never say that. She’d never fucking say that. My jaw clenching, I let the woman drop to her feet and I turn to storm out.

“Hey,” she coos after me and I feel her come closer. “What did I do?” she asks and reaches out her hand to touch me.

I stop, but I don’t turn around. “Don’t. Touch me,” I snarl.

And I leave the room, slamming the door behind me.

But I don’t keep walking to my own room. I’m all fired up and so pissed at myself, I know I won’t be able to sleep now. I won’t even be able to stay inside.

So instead, I leave the den, turn my magic back on and walk out of the bar, heading down the main street.

I may as well keep working, I tell myself, despite the gnawing feeling that in the end, it’s all… pointless.

But just as I turn the corner to go back to that asshole’s apartment, I see her.

And I stop midstep and I freeze, but for a second, I think it must be my mind playing tricks on me.

But no, it’s her, elbowing her way through the crowd outside the Authority Office, a folder in her hands and a smug smile on her face.

This is not good, I tell myself as I keep staring at her without moving a muscle.

She must feel it because she turns to look in my direction, frowning.

My heart skips a beat. Her eyes land on mine, rounding in surprise as she starts slowing down.

My eyebrows pull down. She can tell it’s me?

But the very next second, she averts her eyes and picks up the pace, marching away from me.

Of course she does.

Don’t go after her, I command.

But my body won’t listen.

Before I know it, I’m blocking her way, ignoring the people buzzing by.

She stops, closing her arms around the folder. And her lips are pressed tight and her eyes are narrowed. But still, they’re looking at me and that feels so good. “Not happy to see me?” I ask, keeping my voice as flat as I can.

“Delighted,” she says in a voice so cold, it makes me frown. “But if you don’t want to get caught, you’ll let me by.”

And she moves to walk away, but I plant myself in front of her again. Why is she being so formal?

She lets out a frustrated sigh and then looks up at me. “What do you want?”

I ignore the question. “What was that smile back there?” I ask as I motion at the polished government building looming behind her.

“I also have things I’d like to know,” she drawls. “What you’re doing here, for example.”

That makes me want to throw her a smile. Instead, I clear my throat, fold my arms and say, “If you tell me yours, I’ll consider telling you mine.”

She squints at me and as I wait for the answer, I feel myself melt under her eyes.

“Fine,” she finally says as she shoves the folder in my hands. “Recognize these?”

I don’t even have to open it to know what’s in there. I feel my eyebrows pull down and my focus shift. My case files. I lock eyes with her, my frown growing deeper. “How did you get these?”

She folds her arms. “Someone pretended to be someone else to obtain them. The Warden found out and, well… I grabbed the opportunity.”

“You grabbed the opportunity how?” I demand, feeling myself get worked up.

“I pretended to be the Warden’s assistant coming to get the files so they wouldn’t be stolen,” she explains.

I inhale deeply. “That was dangerous, you do know that?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “So?” she demands, ignoring my question and shaking her head as if I’m being dim-witted. “You said you’d tell me yours.”

That makes me want to laugh. And I do, a little. I get in her face. “I said I’d consider it, didn’t I?”

Her face doesn’t scrunch up in anger, the way I expected it to. She just throws me an ice-cold look.

I feel myself shrink under it. “Hey, I told no lies, did I?” I practically whisper.

She just looks at me for a second. Then she moves to take the folder from my hands.

I could just tell her she won’t be getting it back. She wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But something takes over me. A burning need to thaw that ice in her eyes. So I snatch it away. My lips curling into a smirk, I lift it up, too high for her to reach it.

I see her grit her teeth and throw me a pissed-off look, coming a little closer and standing on the tips of her toes to try to get it. Better. Much, much better.

And what I really want is to grab her with both hands, but I just let out a smug scoff and lift the folder even more out of reach.

That makes her stop, take an angry step back and just stand there, throwing daggers at me as she clenches her hands into fists, as if she’s actually contemplating taking it by force.

Now, that makes me actually laugh, which, in turn, sends blood rushing to her cheeks. Downright high, that’s how it makes me feel. I stalk over to her, making her tense up, and I lean to whisper in her ear, “You know it wouldn’t end well for you.”

When I lean back to look at her, she looks like she’s struggling not to start screaming something at me. And my need to get her even more worked up is just too strong for me to resist.

I can’t help but purr mockingly, “What? Got something to say to me, Kitten?”

“Just so you know, I’ve snapped pictures,” she says, so coldly, it’s like a dagger straight into my heart.

And with that, she turns on her heel and leaves.

For a second, my mind goes blank.

Then it hits me, why she acted so strange. Pictures, she snapped pictures, I think as I watch her disappear around the corner. Meaning she’s had a chance to actually look at the files.

A feeling of dread comes crashing down on me. She’s disgusted with me, that’s what the coldness was about.

And she probably already knew what I went to prison for, but hearing it and seeing it with your own two eyes… It’s just not the same.

I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth hurt. Let it go, I snap at myself as I ball my hands into fists and turn to go back to work.

And it doesn’t work. I keep making my way back to Siskin’s apartment, but the dread lingers, not even showing signs of subsiding.

But that only goes to prove I’ve stayed in this place and this situation too long. I need to go catch that motherfucker, get the fuck out and forget Rhea Moran ever even existed.

Chapter 23 - Rhea

It’s so unbearably hot in the newsroom, I can barely stop myself from tearing my clothes off. I guess I could run to the bathroom real quick to freshen up, but I’m too excited to actually do it.

I just keep sitting there, wringing my hands and waiting for Keller to call me in. And at the same time, my mind is buzzing and feels blank.

It was hard, it was so goddamn hard at times. Especially with the thundering, painful silence that’s replaced my wolf’s stupid attempts at getting me worked up.

So I just can’t believe it. That after all this time, I finally did it. I wrote the goddamn article and Keller is reading it as we speak. She might even be finished by now, I think with a flutter in my already twisted stomach.

“Rhea,” I hear someone call out to me and I look up to see Edgar towering over me.

I almost fail to hide my disappointment. I give him a smile, expecting him to ask me to go for lunch with him.

But what he says makes the smile slide off my face. “She says she appreciates the effort, but we won’t be publishing your article.”

“Why not?” I blurt out. I also want to ask how come she isn’t telling me herself, but I think I know. It’s got to do with how everyone’s been looking at me lately. As if I’m some crazy person.

“Well, R,” he starts as he gets into a crouch, resting his hand on my chair’s armrest, “I think you know why.”

I don’t say anything, I just keep looking at him.

“She wanted me to be the one to tell you this, because we’re friends…”

Are we, I think to myself, but what I say is, “Then tell me, friend.” And my voice comes out all angry, which makes his face tense up.

But he remains gentle in a way that makes me want to punch him. “We’re all worried about you. You look worn out and you’re snappy and the article, well…” He stops and only continues after I throw daggers at him. “It’s still illegal to publish mere speculation on the breakout case.”

“Speculation?” I snap at him, grabbing my bag and digging out my materials, the photos I snapped of the files before I left the Authority Office with them. I shove them in his face, pointing at a line at the bottom of the front-facing one. “You mean to say,” I continue angrily, “this evidence number right here and the fact that that particular piece of evidence is missing, that’s speculation for you, Ed?”

Edgar just blinks at me sympathetically. Then he lets out a sigh and says, “R, your article is about some papers missing in a case that’s, well, a piece of old news. Not a lot of people have interest in it anymore.”

I have to fight not to lose it, not to pop a pill right in front of him. “Maybe the public got bored,” I squeeze out, trying not to sound too angry, “but the government is talking about introducing harsher punishments for faes, based solely on this piece of old news, as you call it.” I pause for a second, looking deeper into his eyes. “And it’s highly suspicious, all of it.”

For a second, Edgar just looks at me. “You know what, R?” he asks in a low, gentle voice, acting as if I’m on my deathbed. “It’s only June 10th. If you start now, I’m sure you can write something else to impress everyone at the send-off brunch.” He gives me a smile, trying to take my hand. I don’t let him. I have to fight not to punch him in the face. “Or even better,” he insists, “focus on the exams. Huh, what d’ya say?”

I get up, abruptly, push him out of my way and storm out of the newsroom, trying my hardest not to notice anyone looking my way.

As soon as I’m in the Elevator, I pop a pill, I whip out my phone and I open the chat with Lochlan, the guy I’m currently seeing. I type, my movements rushed and angry, “I don’t want to meet in the diner after all.”

I send the text and see the three dots appear. “Then what’re you in the mood for?” he asks.

Somewhere bad, I think to myself. Somewhere where I can do the kinds of things I never thought I’d do. “One of those places in Bloodholm,” I end up typing.

“Naughty. I know just the one,” he says, finishing the text with a winky face.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in a feverish haze. After everything I did, to have it all amount to nothing… I can’t even bear the thought.

So when Lochlan gets us to Bloodholm, I can already feel the setting distracting me from the thoughts plaguing my every waking moment. Especially when he leads me into some dirty, dirty alley and for the first time in forever, I feel the need to look over my shoulder, as if I’m being watched.

The feeling only intensifies when Lochlan stops and gestures at a door to our right. I throw a glance over my shoulder before I take a step closer, making sure it really is just my imagination. Then I peer through the door, through the stained glass on it. But it’s so dirty, I can’t see anything. And the only sounds I hear are the sounds of music pounding from inside and creaking of the weathered sign from above, telling me the place is called The Vein.

I turn to look at Lochlan, who’s waiting for my reaction. I give him a smile and he gives one back, rushing to open the door for me.

What I see when I walk inside makes me instantly regret my decision to come. And it’s not the stuffy air, the low ceilings, the smells of sweat, blood and alcohol that make me gulp and tug on the hem of my shirt, which seems too tight all of a sudden. It’s not even the fact that I can’t see a single woman in here. It’s the way everyone looks up from their drinks, their poker, their hushed conversations. And then look at me like I’m a piece of meat that just got served just the way they like it. Raw.

But this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? So I just let Lochlan, who’s grinning stupidly, lead to one of the tables in the back and pull the chair out for me.

“Oh the guys won’t believe this when I tell them,” he says in an excited whisper, glancing around as he takes the chair to my left.

I don’t think I should be here, I think to myself, unease spreading through my body as I feel countless eyes on me.

I turn to say that to Lochlan, but as soon as I do, I see a man take a seat at the table in the shadowy corner behind him. We lock eyes and just like that, my throat tightens and the words get stuck in my throat.

I give the smallest of nods and quickly look away, and I make Lochlan switch seats with me.

And that’s not his face, that’s for sure, but I’d recognize the look in those eyes — intense and dark — any place and any time. He followed me here?

I barely register it when Lochlan starts talking about his day. I just nod away, unable to focus on what he’s saying. I can still feel his eyes on me, which makes all my movements feel so stiff and awkward.

Synn, I think to myself, my heart leaping in my chest. Sitting in the corner right behind me, his arms folded on the table and the beer untouched in front of him. Watching me on a date.

Goddamn it, should I just leave?

But I can’t. It’s too tempting, too satisfying, the chance to make it known that not all men find me so goddamn unattractive, they wouldn’t sleep with me even if I initiated it, even if I threw myself at them.

But it’s at that exact moment that Lochlan snaps me out of it by sliding his hand under the table and stroking my thigh, whispering, “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Sorry?” I ask, blinking at him stupidly.

His hand still on my thigh, he gives me a smile and opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Instead, he starts gasping for air and then coughing really violently, making me frown.

“You alright?” I ask as I pull away to look at him.

“Yeah,” he says in a strained voice, frowning in confusion and gesturing at his throat as he starts getting up. “Just need to go to the bathroom real quick.”

And he leaves, he leaves me alone there, Synn sitting behind my back and all these dangerous-looking people brushing past me.

A chill rushes up my spine even before I feel someone to my left. My eyes dart up and I freeze, seeing a creepy looking old vampire coming to crouch next to me.

“This is your chance, sugar,” he whispers in a sickly sweet voice as his fingers move to brush my forearm.

I snatch it away, but that only makes him get closer. I feel his mind tendrils reach out to get inside my head. I don’t let them.

That pisses him off. He gets up, grabs me by the wrist and tries to pull me up.

Anger flooding me, I fight to stay put and break my hand free, but the man is too strong for me.

He gives me a creepy smile and my stomach churns, but then I hear this strangely familiar sound and my eyes catch a subtle movement in the air before me, like the air itself having condensed into a blade.

The next thing I know, everyone is up, including me, my heart is thundering in my chest, the man standing next to me is screaming and there’s bright red blood all over my pink blouse.

“You bitch,” the man screams as he grabs with one hand the bloody stump that was his other. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

I stare at him in terror, but to my surprise, everyone around me bursts out laughing.

“A little girl got you, eh, Max?” one of the guests teases him.

Max throws a pissed-off look in the general direction of the crowd behind him. He starts bending over to get his hand off the floor, but then I see his eyes dart to the shadowy corner behind me. He gulps, pauses for a second, turns on his heel and practically runs out of the bar.

I just stand there for a second, scared of looking where the man’s eyes went. But then I do. And I see Synn still staring at me from the shadows.

I sense someone coming to stand next to me and I quickly look away, finding Lochlan back from the bathroom, glancing between my blouse and the chopped-off hand beneath my feet. Everyone else seems to be picking up where they left off, but my date has disbelief and terror in his eyes.

I feel a movement on the ground and we both look down, seeing a scrawny vampire snatching the cleanly severed hand off the floor. He looks up at us, lets out an awkward chuckle and says, “Shame to waste a perfectly good hand.”

As we stare at him in silence, he hides it in his robe, gets up and scurries away.

I turn to look at my date, who looks as if he’s about to faint. Before I can even open my mouth to try to explain, Synn materializes right next to us, staring Lochlan down instead of me. Frowning but unable to look away, I watch him pin my date in his place with his stare and make him struggle to maintain eye contact.

When he speaks, his voice is so calm yet so menacing. “This where you bring her?”

My date doesn’t say anything. He swallows, glancing at me in both confusion and a plea for help. Ordinary, frail, no, spineless, that’s how standing next to Synn makes him look. I feel a pang of sympathy in my chest.

“I asked you a question, boy,” Synn drawls, his voice rough and commanding.

“Lochlan, this is,” I cut in, hesitant but determined to diffuse some of the tension, “this is my uncle on my father’s side. He’s a little overprotective.”

I see the surprise on Lochlan’s face, but Synn’s eyes snap to mine and for a second, they narrow in anger. Then something flashes through them and I see his lips curl into a smile.

“Yes,” he says as he turns back to Lochlan, “and you’ve just lost the privilege to date my niece.”

As he stares at Lochlan, I stare at him, gritting my teeth. I see. He doesn’t want to play with the toy, but he doesn’t want other boys to have it either.

“Rhea?” I hear Lochlan call out to me and I turn to look at him. He’s moving to walk away and he’s obviously scared, but he has a hand held out for me.

Yes, take it, I tell myself. But I’m hesitant and pissed and before I can do anything, Synn just clicks his tongue and comes to stand in front of me. “She’s staying.”

You could still leave, I tell myself. Instead, I just watch Lochlan disappear into the crowd.

As soon as he does, Synn turns to me and grabs me by the upper arm. It snaps me out and I struggle to break free, but he just drags me over to his own shadowy corner. “Sit down,” he commands, his chest heaving.

And he looks pissed, but I’ve let this go too far already.

“No,” I say in the coldest, flattest voice I can muster, “I’m leaving.”

“Nuh-uh,” he says with a shake of his head and forces me into one of the chairs. He grabs my drink from the other table and slams it in front of me. “You’re finishing what you started.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

“See that man over there,” he cuts in as he takes a seat to my left, “standing at the bar?” He leans close to me, getting that smell of his in my nose. And I know it won’t be nice, what he’s about to say. I look and watch the man turn his eyes away from me. “Knowing him, he has his heart set on your kidneys and he thinks they’re best when they’re extracted without anesthesia.”

It does make me feel unsettled, but I don’t show it. I just turn to him, craning my neck because he’s so close to me, and I say, “I’m not in the mood for lessons.”

He looks at me for a moment and then pulls away, leaning back in his chair as he drawls, anger brimming in his voice, “Let’s do an exercise then.”

I only have time to frown before I feel something tug at my wrists and then pin them down to the armrests. I look down and try to lift my hands, but they’re not moving, like they’ve been tied by an invisible rope.

I look up at Synn and find him staring at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap at him.

He ignores my question. “Right behind the kidney thief,” he starts, a morbid curiosity making me look in said direction, “we have someone who likes to wait for days before he finally kills his victims.”

As he finishes saying that, I feel those same ropes wrap around both my knees and then stop, making my heart thump in anticipation and hot blood rush to my cheeks.

“And the guy that grabbed you just now?” he asks, making me look around, frowning. “No, he’s not here anymore. But you’d be the twelfth girl he raped and left by the side of the road.”

My heart thumping, I feel the ropes spread my knees apart and tie them to the chair legs, rendering me unable to move at all. I turn to stare him down, only to see him moving to get up. “Where do you think you’re going?” I snarl in a low voice, trying not to get anyone else’s attention.

He stops and lowers himself back in the chair, but there’s a nasty little smile on his face. “Oh, you don’t want me to leave you here to get what you came for?”

“I think I’ve had enough of your little exercise.”

He ignores me, again. He just leans closer and says through gritted teeth, “You know, it’s one thing to like danger. To use it to feel alive. That I can respect.”

He pauses, making me frown. Where the hell is he going with this?

“But being a sheltered little girl who craves excitement but shits her pants when she gets it…”

For a second, all I can do is stare at him furiously. Then, letting out a frustrated groan, I strain every muscle in my goddamn body to the point of feeling myself catch fire. And I pull, I pull hard.

To my shock, the ropes actually snap. And I see a flash of something in his eyes as well, choosing to interpret it as surprise. So I can at least get some pleasure out of all this.

And I don’t let him react. With rushed, angry movements, I grab the knife out of my bag and I drive the tip of its blade into the table, making him pull back. “You know what this is?” I ask in a low, shaky voice.

Eyes narrowing, that’s the only response I get. “It’s the knife I always keep on me in case my wolf starts getting out,” I say through gritted teeth. “So I can hurt myself before she hurts anyone else. Know how long I’ve been walking around thinking this might be the day I have to use it?”

For a second, he just stares at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes. I see his jaw clench, but when he speaks, his voice is controlled. “You don’t even realize how much worse things can be.”

“You mean,” I snap, “I could go months with barely any sleep because I need to somehow stop myself from potentially celebrating my 24th birthday by destroying the world?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m so worked up, I cut him off. “Or should I just let it burn because life is oh so difficult, like you seem to be bent on doing?”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays silent for a moment. “You can tell yourself you know me that much,” he finally says, “but you really don’t.”

“I know some things,” I start with determination in my voice. “For example, I studied up on the kind of magic that would allow you to do something like that,” I say as I motion at his face. “Manipulate light to create such a perfectly detailed mask and still be in control of it so much, you can let it slip and put it back on at a whim.”

He doesn’t look impressed. “So?”

“It’s so demanding, all the experts are like, yeah, sure, it’s possible. In theory.”

He just shakes his head, folding those ridiculously large arms as he leans back in his chair. “Still don’t see your point.”

But I’m not giving up. “You know,” I snap as I lean closer, “I was aware of you being a killer before I ever even saw you. But to think there’s such a powerful fae who seems to choose to do nothing good with his powers, it’s just so…”

I shake my head and make a disgusted face.

For a second, he just stares at me. “You’re the one to talk,” he drawls as he gets in my face. “What good have you done when you chose, repeatedly, not to turn in the world’s most infamous criminal?”

I feel myself start to fume. “I want to write a piece on Nasgard because I don’t believe in damning people, no matter what they did, to an eternity in hell, you fucking asshole.”

I see his jaw clench. “Yeah, right. I can tell you’re fucking overflowing with forgiveness.”

“Well, you won’t give me what I want and you won’t leave me alone either, so you’ll have to excuse me for being annoyed.”

Now his chest is heaving and his nostrils flaring. “Even if I gave you what you wanted, you’d never fucking believe me,” he snaps at me.

“I guess we’ll never know,” I snap back.

And I’m fully expecting it not to be the end of the discussion, but then I see him freeze and I hear this weird yet strangely familiar sound coming from the street.

I glance around and I see everyone starting to scatter, some of the people looking downright terrified.

“What’s happening?” I ask breathlessly as I get out of my chair.

But before I know it, he grabs me by the waist, I feel my stomach jump and the world around me turns into a blur.

The next moment, my body is swaying and Synn’s no longer holding me, but he’s there with me, in some dirty, dirty little room with a single window.

“What…” I start, but I don’t know what to ask exactly.

Suddenly avoiding eye contact, he just holds out a little glass vial, points at the window and tells me, “Look in the direction you want to go in and uncork it.”

His voice is all weird. Why is his voice weird?

It’s only then that it hits me. Their weird growling. It was the hounds we just heard. And by the sound of it, they’re getting closer. Dread settles over my body, numbing it. I hesitate for a second, but I move to listen to him. I want to get the hell out of here, as quickly as possible.

I rush to the window, open it and look outside. I do as he said, but before I uncork the vial, I throw another glance at him.

It makes me stop and frown, what I see. He’s standing on the other side of the room, holding the door closed with his body, his back turned to me and his arms outstretched. I see his muscles straining to the point of snapping.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask.

No answer.

But no growling either. Just silence. “I think they’re gone,” I say.

To my surprise, he doesn’t move a muscle.

Carefully and with bated breath, I move away from the window and start walking back to him.

“Leave,” I hear him say in that weird, strained voice.

“What’s happening to you?” I ask, my own voice coming out a little choked-up.

No answer.

Slowly, I walk up to him. It makes my breath catch and my heart ache, when I see that his entire body is trembling.

I reach out my hand and I gently place my palm on his shoulder. Instantly, he tenses up and my heart starts beating wildly. But he doesn’t lash out and he doesn’t pull away. He just drawls, “Don’t touch me.”

I pay him no mind. I pull my head down and I get it under his arm, sliding myself between his trembling body and the door. “They’re gone,” I whisper as I rest my chin on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his torso.

For a second, he just stands there, not moving except for the trembling. Then he lets go of the door, wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair. It feels so good, I want it to last forever, which is exactly why I don’t let it drag on.

“Now,” I say as I walk him back to a bed I spotted on the floor and make him stop, “you really need to get some sleep.”

And I try to move away, but he doesn’t let me. I try to pull at his arms, but they stay firmly locked around my body. Still silent and trembling, he just pulls me down with him and makes me lie on my side with his face buried in my hair.

Minutes go by with me trapped in his hug, practically unable to move at all. But slowly, the trembling dies down and his breathing deepens. Gradually, it turns into soft snoring, making my lips tug into a smile and warmth spread through my chest.

It’s over, I think to myself. If they haven’t come for him by now, they probably won’t.

But that makes an unpleasant idea enter my mind. A possibility I haven’t yet entertained. If Wagner is interested in the prophecy, he might be after Lycan’s power. And if that’s true, then maybe, just maybe, I know why he waited a whole week before reporting Synn’s escape.

He wanted to see if the escaped prisoner would lead him to more information.

Chapter 24 - Rhea

It’s always annoyed me, how vampires think they can use this day as an excuse to throw blood at whatever the hell they please. But right now, I’m pissed, which is making it even more tortuous than it otherwise would’ve been, finding my way around the noisy, crowded streets of Bloodholm with the festival in full swing.

Losing my way for the billionth time, I stop and I let the horde of drunken people almost knock me over. I take a deep breath and look around. Lifting myself to the tips of my toes, I spot the dirty back alley I’m looking for and head straight towards it.

He’ll see what’s coming to him, I think as I grip the papers he left me tighter in my hand. But I need to get to the goddamn place first.

I keep elbowing my way through the crowd until I’m just around the corner and I can already see the stained-glass door.

Rushing, I bump into another merry vampire who takes a step back, grins at me and throws some more blood on me.

I have to fight not to yell at him. It takes all I have to throw him a polite smile, push past him and enter the alley, already reaching out my hand to grab the doorknob.

It’s only then that I see the paper taped to the door, the official looking one right next to the colorful flier for Saint Mistila’s Day.

Frowning, I come closer so I can read it. Closed permanently, it says, with the Authority stamp confirming the proclamation.

Goddamn it, I think and turn on my heel, watching the street from which I came with desperation in my eyes. I guess I could keep trying to find him, I think to myself.

But it’s at that exact moment that the giant clock looming over me strikes midnight and I see the procession with Lilith’s statue start slowing the foot traffic down to snail speed.

Even if I tried, I’d never be able to find him here. It makes my blood boil, the very thought of leaving without telling him off for what he did. And I don’t know why it bugs me so much, what he did, but it does. Especially after how I treated him last time, I snap for the millionth time that evening. I laid there with him for hours and only at the crack of dawn did I slip out and return to the Academy. Without even waking him up. And now, only a week later, he pulls this.

I shake my head and move to elbow my way back to the Pull.

“Looking for me?” I hear him say in a voice barely above a whisper and my head snaps to my left, where he’s just materialized.

With no introduction whatsoever, I march up to him, slap the papers onto his chest and hold them there. “What is this?” I demand.

He catches them just before I let go and only then glances at them, his eyebrows pulling down.

When he looks up at me, it’s only for a split second.

He comes closer, takes me by the waist and says, “Not here.”

There’s the jump in the stomach and then there’s the blur all around me and the next thing I know, I’m on top of some leafy hill with him pulling away from me. He looks horrible, more tired than ever.

We lock eyes and I’m throwing daggers at him, but he’s weirdly stiff. The way he moves and his eyes… There’s something strange about the way he’s looking at me.

He glances at the papers. When he speaks, his voice is softer than the one I remember. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Let’s see,” I start as I grab the papers back from his hands. “Did I want someone to break into my private desk drawer in the newsroom and leave me three equally useless pieces of paper?” I ask as I wave them around angrily.

“Interviews,” he corrects me, albeit very softly.

His answer makes me have to inhale deeply. “I’m sorry, but I wanted one honest interview, not three fake ones. I mean,” I snap as I look down and flip through the papers angrily, “in one of them, you’re heavily exaggerating the number of people you killed, in another, you’re saying you’re innocent. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You said you knew me enough,” he replies. “Can’t you tell which version is true?”

“Well, that’s the problem,” I drawl angrily, throwing my hands up in the air. “I don’t think there is one.”

For a second, he just looks at me. “You look terrible,” he finally says, so softly yet so matter-of-factly, it makes me want to scream at him.

“Thanks, it’s all a girl ever wants to hear,” I reply in a deflated voice. And I turn my back to him and throw myself on the grass. I’m facing the valley below me, the valley in which Bloodholm lies. But despite the mesmerizing beauty of the procession lights, I’m not really registering anything.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just remains standing there. If I weren’t this pissed, I think to myself, the silence would be awkward.

After one long moment, I sense him leave. As soon as he does, I let out a bitter laugh and I shake my head, thinking it’s my fault really, that I’ve decided to waste my time with him, again.

My phone pings, but I ignore it. It’s probably either grandma or Tyler, my latest Flingr trainwreck. I try to focus on the lights, to distract myself from everything that’s troubling me.

And it almost works, when I feel a movement to my right. I freeze.

With the corner of my eye, I see a pair of hands lower a paper plate with food onto the grass next to me. I look up to see Synn walking back to take a seat himself, putting quite a lot of distance between us.

I frown and I look down, seeing that the selection is mostly bread, cheese and fruit. And it all looks delicious, but my eye gets drawn to the little bottle of blood gin.

My phone pings again. I grab the bottle and uncork it, suddenly desperate not to eat but to get drunk.

Feeling his eyes on me, I turn to stare him down only to see him quickly look away and at the valley below. Why’s he acting so weird?

I gulp the whole bottle down, but it only makes me want more, the entire world around me softening and becoming that much more bearable. So I turn to look at him again.

And I look at him until he looks back, and I lift the hand with the bottle, giving it a little shake for him to see that it’s empty.

I see him squint at me. “I think you should eat something, not drink more.”

I don’t say anything, I just give him a nasty little look.

“As you wish,” he says, disappears and returns a few moments later with another bottle.

I take it and motion for him to sit next to me. He does.

This time, my phone rings. I glance at the screen and see that it’s Tyler.

But before I can answer it, Synn does.

“She’s busy,” he growls into the speaker and hangs up with one forceful stab of his thumb.

I squint at him. He hands me the phone and says, “I guess you have been.” His voice sounds more normal now. “Is this one,” he asks, glancing at the phone again, “as smooth-skinned as the vampire turd or as finely dressed as the shifter asshole?”

That makes me frown. “Vampire turd? You mean Edgar?” I ask, the words a bit slurred. “You don’t have a very sophisticated gaydar, do you?”

The look on his face makes me let out a laugh. “And as for the shifter asshole…” I break off, turning to frown at him. “You know what? It’s none of your fucking business.”

He lifts his palms up in surrender. “Alright.”

I look away and at the Moon hanging low above us. There’s an orange ring around it, slim and ethereal, but still undeniably there. My heart pounds in my chest. That’s how the Blood Moon starts, announcing its appearance days before it turns aggressively red.

“A child shall be born,” the woman’s voice rings in my head, mercilessly echoing through my bones, “bearing Lycan’s mark. Sacrificing three and twenty, she shall come to possess his heart, harness divine power and set the world ablaze. Four hundred years from hence, on her natal day, on the day of the Blood Moon.”

The blood gin does its thing, making me unable to hold any of it in any longer. I guess it’s just another sign, second out of three, that it really will be me.

“Hey,” I hear Synn call out in a tense voice. “No,” he commands as he takes my chin in his hand.

I slap it away, only then realizing that I have tears running down my face.

“Hey,” he repeats, more forcefully this time, and tries to grab me by the shoulders.

I let out an angry groan and try to push him away. He just grabs me by the wrist and forces me to look at him. “Please don’t cry.”

But I’m already breaking free of his grip and getting up.

“I’m not crying,” I protest as he follows me up, my voice raised and shaky. “I can’t cry, you see? Everyone else can,” I say with a frustrated wave of my hands. “They can run around being sad, mad, excited, whatever they fucking want, and nothing bad ever happens, right? Me?” I ask, staring him down and jabbing a finger in my chest, my mouth twitching with built-up emotion. “I have to shove it all down until there’s nothing left of me anymore.”

My chest heaving, I watch him come a little closer and whisper, “Come on, baby, please don’t say that.”

And he moves to take my hand, but I don’t let him.

I look away, tears filling my eyes again. “And now even a fucking criminal is treating me like a ticking time-bomb,” I practically yell. “And I am a fucking ticking time-bomb. And there’s nothing I can do about it because I still know nothing about the prophecy or whether I really am the villain or what it is that will make me do this horrible, horrible thing…”

“Listen,” he whispers, but I don’t look up. “It’s a prophecy. There’s nothing you’d be able to do about it either way.”

I shake my head.

“No, listen,” he insists. “This is something that at one point I devoted my life to studying. A thing that’s destined to happen…” The pause makes my ears prick up. “It’s like a boulder rolling down a hill. The more it goes, the faster it is and the harder to stop, right? Now imagine a boulder that’s been rolling since the beginning of time itself. That is what a prophecy is.”

“That doesn’t change the fact I have to try.”

“Hey,” he says as I turn to walk away. “Rhea, listen to me,” he insists. “I have something that might help.”

That makes me stop midstep and glance over my shoulder. “What is it?” I demand.

“You have to promise to stay calm,” he says as he digs around his pocket.

I turn back to him, frowning. He rips the pocket fabric and takes out the smallest square of paper. He hesitates for a second, something indecipherable flashing through his eyes, and then he hands it to me.

My heart thumping in anticipation, I take the paper and I slowly unfold it.

The first things I see are the Authority stamp and the number. The number. “This is the piece of evidence that’s missing from your case files,” I say without looking up. I quickly scan the thing, seeing that it’s two pieces of paper stapled together. The first one is a page from the Authority log, recording a complaint made by Synn about someone following him. The other is an Authority report…

With my name on it.

Rhea Moran? I blink at it stupidly and for a second, I’m not sure if it’s really my name I’m looking at.

“What is this?” I ask in a small voice, my eyes still fixed on the words.

“Can’t you see?” comes the reply, all strained.

My eyes dart left right and it’s hard to process the information, but I’ve seen enough for anger to start overwhelming me, my wolf shifting inside me despite all the barriers I’ve put up. I look up to throw daggers at him, finding him just standing there, staring at me. “How long have you had it?”

“I stole it a few days before I bumped into you in Bloodholm.”

“How long have you had it?”

There’s a second of silence before he says, “Nine years and a couple of months, but technically, it wasn’t on me most of that time.”

My heart thunders in my ears. I crumple the paper up.

“You lying piece of trash,” I say through gritted teeth.

And I turn on my heel and start going down the hill. He doesn’t follow and it’s good that he doesn’t, because I’d gouge his goddamn eyes out.

Chapter 25 - Rhea

Ifeel my wolf try to break free the entire way back to the Academy. And when I’m finally there, drenched in sweat and unable to think about anything else but the piece of evidence I just saw, I don’t go to my room despite it still being the middle of the night.

Instead, I go to the gazebo. And I stand there, expecting my eyes to land on Raven any second now.

When I don’t see her, I call out to her, desperation in my voice.

She doesn’t answer.

But my wolf is so near the surface now, her nose is telling me which direction the bird went.

I stop and I frown, turning my eyes to the deep, dark forest looming behind the gazebo. And it’s not a good idea, it’s never been a good idea for a shifter who can’t shift to go in there, but I’m so desperate to talk to someone and Raven is the only one I can talk to.

So I wipe the sweat off my forehead and I start marching.

I sense my wolf start gloating as soon as I step foot on the path leading deep into the woods. It makes me want to snap at her, tell her this doesn’t mean she’s getting what she wants, but I don’t. Silence makes for a much better way to keep her shoved inside.

But when the treetops close above me, hiding the Moon from sight and enveloping everything in a darkness that feels nothing less than primordial, I can’t help but shudder and wish she’d take over.

I force myself to keep walking, but I don’t stop glancing around, keeping my eyes open and my ears pricked up. You never know, my grandma used to tell me, back when she still read me stories and I had a fascination with the Lycan Forest. You never know what godforsaken, vile creature might be walking beside you without you even knowing.

But it’s so still and so silent…

It makes me stumble back and almost fall down when I hear an old, gentle voice boom from somewhere to my left. “Got lost, little one?”

I freeze in place, my eyes darting left right in search of the source of the sound. But the only thing I hear is the thumping of my heart in my ears.

I gulp and keep walking. Just ignore it, I tell myself.

But as soon as I take a step forward, she appears. She’s just an old woman, a sweet little old woman in simple clothes.

But I know just who he is. “Get away from me,” I bark out.

And I keep walking, seeing him disappear with the corner of my eye.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then he appears in front of me, this time wearing the shape of a blond little girl with a red riding hood. She seems to be in tears. “Miss,” she cries out, “they killed my parents. Won’t you take me with you?”

“Get away from me,” I snarl without looking at him, my wolf letting out a low growl.

The little girl only comes to tug at my sleeve. I look down and into her big, round eyes, my wolf snapping her teeth. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

For a second, she just stands there, looking all confused.

Then her lips tug into an unsettling smile and her facial features start to distort.

With bated breath, I watch her take a step back and shift into a vicious, old wolf. His huge red tongue hanging out of his mouth, he narrows his eyes at me and lunges.

I stumble to the side, falling onto the ground with a loud thud. On all fours, I close my eyes to try to breathe deeply, to stop her from taking over. I’ll be handling this on my own.

I jump to my feet, my body flooding with rage as I imagine what the age-old creature would do to me if I let it. The same thing it’s been doing to lost girls for centuries. And I grab my knife out of my bag and start slashing the air in front of me.

But the blade doesn’t scare the shifter. It just starts circling me with narrowed eyes. And then lunges again, the jaws opening to snap shut around my flesh.

It’s then that it happens. I feel my wolf struggling to take over and for a second, I let her near the surface.

She makes me stop, the creature stopping with me, sniffing at the air apprehensively.

Then she growls. She growls more fiercely than ever before, making the earth beneath me seem to shake.

I watch the look in the creature’s eyes change and I see it start to retreat. But it’s only after it’s out of sight that I let myself crash to the ground.

It almost happened. That’s all I can think about. And the very thought hurts, but I know I need to do it. I shove my wolf even deeper inside, so deep that for the first time ever, I can’t feel her even if I try.

The silence that ensues is so deeply unsettling, I almost start crying.

But I don’t.

For what seems to be an eternity, I just lie there, panting. Then I hear wings flutter and I jump to my feet, my heart exploding with relief when I see Raven circle the air above me.

“Do you know what I had to go through to find you, you stupid bird?” I ask in a strained voice when she lands on the branch closest to me.

It makes me frown, when she doesn’t say anything.

“Raven,” I impatiently call out to her as I move to get closer.

She flits away from the branch and onto another one. “Hey,” I call out, again, a feeling of dread settling over me.

“What,” I snap at her, “you’re not talking to me anymore?”

Instead of answering me, the bird flits away and then comes back, throwing a stick on my head.

Then it occurs to me. “Is it because I called you a stupid bird?” I yell out, my eyes following her through the air. “Or because I told you to leave the last time we saw each other?”

She lands back on the branch, but just keeps standing there, not talking.

I take a step closer, a knot in my throat. “Hey,” I start, making sure to soften my voice, “I’m sorry. You know you’re my friend. And I really need to talk to you, Raven.”

She leaves and returns with another stick that she throws on my head. I feel the knot grow bigger and my eyes fill with tears. It was all in my head. For months now, I’ve been talking to a bird, convinced she’s been talking back.

My entire body sagging, I let it drop to the floor right below the branch she’s flit back to. And she’s not even real, but she’s still the only one I can talk to.

An image of Synn flashes through my mind and all of a sudden, it’s so clear, why it made me so upset, his three versions of the events.

“Raven, I think I’ve gone crazy,” I start in a low, tired voice. “I’ve actually let myself start caring about a man no one sane would be caught dead with. Wanting to get to know him, the real him, not the lies. Caring about what happens to him. Wanting him to be happy and dreaming about being the one who makes that happen.”

I let out a bitter scoff as another stick hits me. “And that’s not even the worst of it,” I say, thinking of what it said in that report he gave me.

Rhea Moran, twenty three dead.

“I’ve been lied to,” I finally say it. “Lied to by my only family. And up until now, there was a chance it wouldn’t be me. But sacrificing three and twenty, that’s what the prophecy said and I thought that it was something yet to happen, but it’s not. It’s already happened, Raven, and it’s proving that it really is me, a week away from now, I’ll be…” I pause, unable to say it out loud. “What should I do, please, just tell me.”

And it’s not a question. I know she can’t answer. It’s more of a prayer.

But I know what I need to do. The only problem is that I really don’t like it. The very thought of confronting her makes me feel uneasy. I’m mad, I’m so mad for being lied to, and I don’t know how to be mad at her.

Chapter 26 - Rhea

Idon’t find her in her office, I find her in the solitary chapel only she seems to visit. I stop in the ancient doorway, my heart skipping a beat when my eyes land on her back. What will she say? She’s sitting in one of the front pews, praying. And I know she doesn’t like to be interrupted, but I’m so tired and anxious and angry that I can’t make myself care.

“Rhea?” I hear her call out, letting me know she’s smelled me. Her voice is distracted and pensive when she says, “I’m busy, darling, lots to mull over.”

I don’t say anything. I just walk up to her, the sounds of my footsteps hollow against the weathered stone beneath me.

She cranes her neck, surprise flashing through her eyes when they land on me. I must look terrible.

“What in the name of Lycan,” she starts as she gets up to reach for my hand.

But I don’t let her finish and I don’t let her take my hand. “Remember what happened when I was five, gran?” My voice is tired, but it’s brimming with anger.

She squints at me. “I do.”

“Well, I don’t. Not really, at least,” I say with a bitter scoff. “But I do remember what you told me about it. Remember that?”

She just looks at me for a second. “You know I don’t like games, Rhea.”

I summon all my determination. “You told me I lost control and hurt people. You didn’t tell me I killed twenty three of them.”

“What are you talking about?”

I dig the report out of my pocket and shove it in her face. “This, I’m talking about this.”

She takes it, putting on her glasses. But she only throws a single glance before she looks up at me again, her eyes narrowing. “Who gave it to you?”

So this is not the first time she’s seeing it, I think with gritted teeth. “This report is something Synn Iarro went to the Authority with before they threw him in prison,” I say, my voice taking on a theatrical, accusing tone. “But it’s even older than that. It seems that it was written, like, almost immediately after I did what I did. Then the funniest thing happened.” I pause to look deeper into her squinting eyes. “It never got published.”

I see her jaw clench. “Who gave it to you?”

For a second, I think I sense a presence behind me and I imagine I’m smelling a faint scent of tobacco. Has he come after me? Has he finally figured out I’m the child of prophecy?

But my grandma doesn’t seem to be smelling anything. She just keeps squinting at me, waiting for an answer. Then she demands, “I asked you who gave it to you.” She takes a step closer. “You will tell me, right now, or I swear to Lycan, child…”

It makes anger overwhelm me. “I don’t care,” I cut her off, raising my voice and balling my hands into fists.

I see a flash of surprise in her eyes.

“Is this the truth?” I demand. “I want you to tell me it is and I want you to tell me you knew.” I add through gritted teeth, “All my life, you knew.”

Grandma shakes her head a little, and she makes me take a step back so she can get out of the pew.

Impatience making me frown, I watch her slowly walk up to the altar. She stops, fixing her eyes on the row of teeth resting on an embroidered cloth, going from small human to giant wolf ones.

“Did I ever tell you about my pack?” she asks.

My eyebrows pull down. Pack? My grandma’s never had a pack, she’s always been a lone wolf. Hasn’t she?

She turns around, fixing her eyes on mine. “There were so many of us,” she says with a sad smile, “the largest pack in the entire western hemisphere. The strongest, the bravest, the most learned all flocked to us.”

I just keep standing there, my heart thumping in anticipation.

“Until they came one night,” she says, her voice coming out all weird, “the vampires. They slit our guard dogs’ throats, came into the houses and slaughtered everyone. Man, woman, young, old, everyone but me.”

She lifts her right hand for me to see. “I stayed alive because this ring right here, it managed to crack the skull of the one who’d just violated me.”

My heart tightens in my chest and I walk up to her, opening my mouth.

But she doesn’t let me say anything, she just shakes her head. “I watched his body slide down to the ground and I still watch it, almost every day, when I’m alone in the dark, because that’s the last thing I remember before I saw what they did. Before I saw that my entire world had been destroyed and that I’d been left all alone.”

I feel my eyes fill with tears as I reach to give her upper arm a squeeze. The words that come out of my mouth are choked-up and useless. “That’s horrible, gran. I wish you’d have told me.”

She gives me a determined look. “That day,” she tells me, tilting her head as she looks deep into my eyes, “when you killed those people, all I could think about was that. How you, a child, would have your own moment to haunt you for the rest of your life. And when I picked you up off the ground and saw you didn’t even remember…”

I take a step back. “I’m not a child anymore, gran,” I snap at her.

She just looks at me for a second. “No, you’re not,” she says with a sad smile and then takes a deep breath. “So yes, it is true, what it says on that paper.”

My heart skips a beat, my breathing turning heavy.

“And I knew. All your life, I knew, and if I could go back in time, I’d choose to lie to you all over again.”

And just like that, I feel so silly. I’m just a silly little girl huffing and puffing when all my grandma’s ever tried to do was protect me from this horrible, horrible world. “Gran,” I start.

“That’s alright,” she says and motions at the piece of paper still in her hands. “Your turn.”

Now, that makes shame burn my cheeks. “Bloodholm Authority Office,” I say in an apologetic voice.

She squints at me. “Illegally?”

It makes me grit my teeth, but I nod.

She lets out a disappointed sigh, making my stomach twist in anticipation of a lecture.

But she just puts the article draft in her robe pocket and says, “I’ll take care of it.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“You know,” she starts as she reaches to stroke my upper arm. “After it happened, with you not remembering anything… For a while, I was convinced you’d just keep being the child you were before. You never did,” she says in a sad voice. “And it’s been so hard watching you struggle.”

I gulp, the full weight of the shame that’s been with me for as long as I remember punching me in the gut.

But there’s a flash of something else in her eyes when she gives my arm a squeeze and says, “But now that you know, maybe, just maybe you’ll finally be at peace. And maybe you’ll start putting all this Nasgard nonsense and all this sadness behind you.”

Yes, I think to myself as I nod. I’ll get it together. If nothing else, for my grandma.

Chapter 27 - Synn

I’ve been left to rot, once again, but this time it feels… right. I’m in a cage, lying on my back, my hands folded under my head and my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

If you could call it that. The place is a hole in the ground with a single wooden door on one side and the cage on the other. The cage in which they threw me and left, almost a week ago, with no food and no water except the leak in one corner. On a scale from one to Nasgard, how hellish is it really?

It’s barely one.

But that’s not why it feels right. It feels right because my life is already over. It was on the third day that I came to that realization. When I started thinking about that little weasel Siskin. How it all reeks of a bigger player being involved.

That wasn’t the point, though. I was trying to bring myself to feel something about finally getting my revenge and felt… nothing.

It wasn’t like that at first. I was so pissed, even more so when I saw he had them leave my Runes lying there, on the ground, just out of my reach. Fucking bastard.

So I tried activating my Sight and failed. I tried digging a tunnel and failed. I even contemplated going to the Fae Realm.

I was busy, my mind scrambling to find a way out, so when shit finally hit the fan, I could go to her.

Then, on the third day… I guess it finally hit me. What would really happen even if I managed to escape. I’d rush to her and I’d get there just in the nick of time, ready to do whatever she wanted me to do. But she’d just scoff, asking me why I thought the child of prophecy would ever need help from a guy like me.

Lying piece of trash.

They are the reason my life is already over. Those four little words. I guess I didn’t realize it at first, but as soon as she uttered them, it was all over for me, my worst fears having come true.

Serves me right, I think with a scoff, my mind flooding with images of that night in the Vein and the one on the hill. I tried my hardest to be mad at her. Mad for making me feel what I was feeling, I guess.

Instead, I let her get at me. I let myself imagine being someone else. Worst of all, I let myself fall in love with her.

Now, all that’s left is lying on my back, my hands folded under my head and my eyes fixed on the ceiling, waiting for the moment that will be the last, no matter how it happened, here, back there, somewhere else entirely.

That’s what’s going through my mind when I hear it. A strange sound, almost like footfalls coming from the other side of the door.

When I realize they are footfalls, I freeze and then push myself off the ground.

The door opens and I raise my hand to shield my eyes, but I see someone walk in and stop in the doorway, facial features hidden by the glaring light hitting their back. My eyes narrow and my muscles clench.

The person closes the door and takes a few steps closer.

It’s then that I finally recognize him. Wagner, clad in a dark suit instead of the usual white one, looking worse than I ever saw him. I feel my jaw clench as I take a step back into the shadows of my cage.

But he just comes to stand in front of it, locking eyes with me. For a second, we both stay silent, motionless.

Then he moves, making me ball my hands into fists, preparing to react.

But he just lowers himself onto the ground.

My eyebrows pull down. I watch him look around my hole in the ground, as if he’s searching for something. Then, just as he turns his eyes back onto my cage, he stops. He squints. Then he clasps his hands and closes his eyes.

He’s preparing to do magic.

I take a step closer. Is he planning on killing me? Is that why he didn’t arrest me and throw me back in there? My mind buzzes in search of answers, but whatever it is he’s doing, I know I need to stop him.

“What’re you doing?” I ask.

Almost instantly, I see it work. His concentration having slipped, he frowns and takes a deep breath, trying to go back to it.

I don’t hesitate. “Once upon a time,” I start, determined to do the only thing I can, “an old sow had three little pigs…”

I see him grit his teeth, frowning, but not opening his eyes. A smile tugs at my lips. “She didn’t have enough for them all to eat,” I continue, “so she told them to…”

“Would you cut it out,” he snaps, his eyes flinging open and throwing daggers at me. “I’m trying to set you free.” His voice is low and raspy, as if he hasn’t talked in days.

I just look at him for a second. Then I let out a bitter laugh. “It was you who put me in here.”

He jumps to his feet and comes to stand in front of me. “I waited a whole week to let the public know you escaped,” he spits out. “That’s how much I wanted to make it so it never happened. So no, boy, it wasn’t me who put you in here. If I wanted you in a cage, it’d be a Nasgard cage.”

I squint at him, taking another step closer and balling my hands into fists. “When they put a bag over my head and brought me here, it was redleaf I smelled.”

He lets out a laugh. “What, no one in Bloodholm chews redleaf?”

That makes me frown. “And you’re getting me out?” I ask, my voice dripping in sarcasm.

His eyes narrow, but he nods.

Fucking bastard. I’ll show him. “Are we going for a candlelit dinner afterwards?” I snarl.

Shaking his head, he lets out a sigh and moves to take a step back.

I lunge at him, not letting the bars stop me from grabbing him by the throat. And as I slam him against the cage, I feel the shock coursing through my body, but I don’t care. “Explain yourself,” I demand in the most threatening voice I can muster.

He breaks free from my grip, takes a step back and clears his throat, smoothing out his suit jacket as if nothing happened. “A week ago,” he starts hesitantly, “I was, well, doing some investigating and I happened to overhear a conversation.”

I feel my eyes narrow. What the fuck is happening here?

He throws me the weirdest look and says, “The little shifter girl said something about you that made me think.”

My heart skips a beat and then breaks into a gallop. “What?” I demand in a breathless voice. “What did she say?”

To my surprise, for a second, his lips tug into a smile. “You love that girl.”

I frown, opening my mouth to tell him to fuck off.

He doesn’t let me. “But you don’t just love her,” he says as he gets as close as the bars will let him. “I know about the report.”

My eyebrows shoot up, but I don’t say anything. I want him to keep talking.

And he does. “I know it was stolen the day your case files were retrieved. You went there and you risked going back to Nasgard so you could steal the only thing still tying her to her crime.”

I let out a scoff and then say through gritted teeth, “She was five. How was she supposed to know what she was doing, to be in control, to stop such powerful urges?”

“See,” he replies with a tinge of sadness in his voice, “that right there, that’s why I’m saving you.”

And he takes a step back and goes to sit on the ground again. My eyebrows pull down. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel the distrust that I should be feeling.

So I let him do his thing. He closes his eyes and soon, I feel something snap in the air around me. I try to activate my Sight and to my surprise, I find that I can.

For the first time since they threw me in here, I see the magic placed on the cage. It’s strong and it’s malevolent, the poison green veins of light woven into a web all around me.

Frowning, I watch Wagner snap one after the other, wincing a little in between each cut.

And just as he gets to the last two, his face starts turning green.

“What’s happening to you?” I ask.

He doesn’t reply, he just lets out a muffled grunt, pushes himself to his feet, takes a couple of wobbly steps to the side and throws up.

I just watch him, my eyes narrowing as he goes back to cut the last two ribbons.

He does, but as soon as it’s done, his body sways and he comes crashing to the ground.

“Hey,” I yell out. And I grab the door to my cage and try to yank it open.

It immediately gives in. He did it? He actually wanted to get me out? I rush to crouch next to him. His face is now covered in sweat and his body’s trembling. “What can I do?” I demand.

He locks eyes with me for a second and then looks away and at the ceiling.

“I didn’t save her,” he mutters, making my ears prick up. “My wife. I had a difficult choice to make and I made the wrong one. Then I just kept living in self-hatred, telling myself, over and over again, that it was better that way, actually. A man doesn’t need love, but he does need safety.”

I stay silent and he looks at me again, peering deep into my eyes even though I feel he can’t really see me. “I was a stupid man that way, you’re much wiser,” he says. His voice takes on a pained tone when he adds, “Oh to wake up and get to make that choice again…”

It’s so confusing, feeling pity for the man I’ve hated with a burning passion for the last nine years.

“Synn,” he calls out and I take his hand in mine. “I have one more thing to tell you…”

I lean in so he doesn’t have to struggle as much.

What he tells me makes me freeze in place and grit my teeth. And the moment he closes his eyes and I see his life energy dissipate, I find myself flooded with rage, a kind of rage that makes my entire body tremble.

She’s going to need my help after all. And to give it to her, I’ll need to go to the Fae Realm.

Chapter 28 - Rhea

There’s a present lying on the bed next to me, but I couldn’t care less what the perfectly wrapped little box contained. I’m not even intrigued by the note saying grandma has another surprise waiting for me. My hands folded in my lap and my eyes fixed ahead, I’m at once numb and busy trying to resist the urge.

It’s in half an hour, my birthday dinner. Normally, I’d be thrilled, it being the only time of year I can eat cake in front of grandma without getting disapproving looks. But right now… right now it’s a little harder to look forward to the impending sugar rush. When she asks how I’m doing, what am I supposed to say?

Oh fine. Just this morning, I popped three pills before the exams were even over and I can’t remember a single question, let alone know if I gave the right answer.

And I never told you this, even though I’ve known for months, but on this very day, I’m supposed to turn into some villain, harness divine power and destroy the world.

To make things even better, that report I told you about? It was given to me by Synn Iarro himself. And I can’t stop thinking about it, especially since I last checked the copy I made and finally noticed it.

The Authority log stapled to the report says Synn brought it to the Bloodholm Office when he started suspecting being followed. But what I didn’t catch at first is the exact time he did that. The log clearly states that he came into the Office on August 13th at 11:10 PM.

When he’s supposed to have been killing those people.

Now, why would Synn steal a piece of evidence proving his innocence and not try to use it to get his freedom back? That I don’t know. But right now, he’s still somewhere out there, on the run, thinking he’ll go back to Nasgard if he ever got caught.

Just thinking about him makes my blood boil. But he’s an innocent man who’s suffered through a lot already and I don’t think he deserves to suffer any more.

I turn to stare at the pretty pink present. I could just meet my grandma, stuff my face with cake and then go watch the Third Round of the Trials with her, as planned. I could just try to forget the fact that, sometime today, I’m supposed to transform into some super villain, harness divine power and destroy the world.

After a moment of hesitation, I reach out and I grab the present. I rip into it, my breath catching from some weird expectation for it to make everything better.

But what I find inside is a string of pearls with another note saying, “To my darling granddaughter, so she may shine at tomorrow’s brunch.”

The brunch, I think as I feel my excitement deflate. The thing I’ve been waiting for to make up for every other stupid thing that’s happened, to fix my not becoming Assistant Editor and to ensure my getting a position as a journalist after all.

Now it just makes me let out a weak little scoff.

I throw the pearls and the box back onto the bed. Unable to resist the urge any longer, I whip my phone out and I text grandma, telling her I have a stomachache. Then I get up and get ready, determination in my every move.

I leave my room and make my way to the Pull Chamber, the one in the Grimm Tower that’s reserved for professors and students from the news section.

And I use it to get to Bloodholm.

When the Pull spits me out on the Main Square, it makes my eyebrows pull down, seeing it so strangely deserted. Then it hits me. The Trials. Everyone’s probably at the Academy already, getting ready for a night of pointless violence.

But it suits me, it suits me just fine, I think to myself as I head straight for The Vein, the dusk gathering all around me. It’s there that I’ll find him, or he me. And before everything comes crashing down, I think as I turn the corner, keeping my eyes peeled for the inconspicuous door, at least I’ll tell him that there’s no longer any reason for him to be hiding. I’ll tell him that I gave the report to my grandma and that she must have returned it by now.

But before I can spot the door, I see her. And I freeze in place, my mind buzzing. What is she doing here?

My grandma just watches me stand there for a second, gripping the staff, and then slowly walks up to me, an indecipherable look in her eyes.

“I sent you a text, gran,” I start, weakly.

But she just comes to a stop right in front of me and motions over her shoulder and at the door to The Vein.

“This, people say, was at one point the prisoner’s hiding spot.”

My mind scrambles for an excuse.

But she doesn’t let me come up with one. “I’m not mad,” she says in a strangely flat voice, “I just want the truth.”

Why is this happening, I bitch to myself, why now? I throw a glance at the Moon, seeing its orange ring has turned red. “Gran, any other day…”

“Really?” she demands, squinting at me. “What makes this one so special?”

I ball my hands into fists and take a deep breath. “This is serious,” I reply with as much determination as I can muster, “and you’re getting old, gran. I don’t want you mixed up in it.”

“You forget, child,” she drawls, “that there are times when being young is the issue.”

We just stare at each other for a second, her eyes exerting their power over me.

“There’s a prophecy, gran,” I hear myself say, “a prophecy involving a child finding Lycan’s heart and harnessing his power.”

“What about it?” she asks matter-of-factly.

That makes me frown. “You know it?”

She lets out a scoff. “I’m a professor of Lycanology at Grimm Academy, Rhea. There’s no story about a lost prophecy, Holy Grail or blood curse involving shifters that I don’t know about. What do you know about it?”

I gulp. “It’s me, gran. The child the prophecy talks about.”

Her eyebrows pull down. Then she lets out a little scoff. “I don’t know the details, but that prophecy speaks about destruction with a capital D, Rhea. You can’t even shift properly.”

But now that the cat’s out of the bag… “Gran,” I insist, “there’s the year I was born, then there’s my birthmark and then there’s the bloodshed I’d already caused… It’s all written in the stars.”

She stays silent for a moment. And I can tell she thinks I’m crazy, but I see her eyes soften a bit. “Today? Is that what you meant earlier?”

I nod.

“What’s the plan?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then you’re coming with me,” she says and takes the pin off her robe, the one allowing her to use the Pull however she pleases. And her voice is so determined, it brings me comfort.

“Where are we going?” I ask, the stone on the pin starting to glow already.

“Lycan Forest. Where else do you think you’d find Lycan’s heart?” she says as she holds out her hand for me.

“But gran…”

She grabs me by the upper arm. “Nothing is going to happen to you, alright? You’re going to face whatever you think is waiting for you there,” she says through gritted teeth.

Whatever I think…

“And once you do, you’ll finally go back to normal.”

I just look at her, shaking my head to communicate how much I don’t want to.

“Trust me, will you?” she demands. “For once, girl.”

And I swallow around a lump in my throat, but I take her hand and I feel the Pull gripping the spot behind my navel, sucking us out of the dirty alley and somewhere much, much more dangerous.

Chapter 29 - Rhea

Just tell her you want to go back, I urge myself as the light coming through the treetops becomes even fainter. Tell her before it’s too late, before it all comes crashing down on you. But I don’t. I just throw tentative glances at her back as she leads the way through the silent, eerie Lycan Forest. I can tell she’s tense, waiting, her head snapping left right at every sound, no matter how small. But she’s not lecturing, in fact, she hasn’t said a word since we entered. It makes me feel like the worst granddaughter in the world for making her go through this.

But there’s nothing I can do to make it better, not anymore. And the farther in we venture… I can’t even finish the thought. I keep walking, the wind that was rustling through the trees now brushing against my skin, making me feel even more exposed. I don’t dare stare into the shadows, but I let my eyes sweep over our surroundings.

We’re now past the point I reached when I came to look for Raven. There’s no discernible path anymore, just the soft shifting of the carpet of needles beneath our feet as we make our way through the largest pines and sycamores I’ve ever laid eyes on.

It’s only then that it hits me. That it’s been ages since I’ve heard or seen an animal. The very thought makes the fear dig even deeper into my bones.

“Where should we go exactly?” I ask my grandma, breaking the dead silence.

“What do you think?” comes the reply, but she doesn’t even turn to look at me, let alone stop.

I see. So the heart of the forest then. Sounds about right. As silence penetrates the air again, an even stronger feeling of dread penetrates my bones.

And just like that, I can no longer fight it. The feeling that I’m about to die. Or worse, make a lot of other people die. In any case, it’ll be it for me. The end of the road. The end of life as such. Have I lived it right? I don’t know. Then there’s a part of me that does know, the part that gets all twisted up in pain at the very thought that it should end. I want to scream. It makes me want to stop and just scream.

But I just keep walking, my mind rushing to the beginning and trying to remember the little girl I used to be. The nerd. The Devil. The orphan.

And it’s just at that moment that I see something I can’t really process right. It’s a long, curved object jutting out of the hard ground below us, ghostly white and ending in a sharp tip so high above that I have to tip my head back to see it.

It’s a bone, a giant bone that looks like either a rib or a tooth. Shivers run down my spine just from looking at it. I glance at my grandma, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even acknowledge the thing. Death or anything even remotely related to it, it’s never been something my grandmother liked to talk about.

Now that I know what happened to her, I can’t say I’m surprised. But there are some things I need to know. I can’t let this life end without knowing them.

“Gran,” I break the silence again, “no one ever approached you, right? About the prophecy, I mean?”

She side-eyes me, but keeps walking, giving me a little shake of her head. She still thinks I’m being crazy.

I don’t say anything. But as we pass two more of those bones, I take a moment to study the part of myself that needed her to say ‘yes’.

There’s silence for a second, but then she asks, “Why?”

I throw her a glance, suddenly self-conscious and a little uncomfortable. “I just… Do you think it could be the reason mom and dad, you know.”

“Their entire village was killed, Rhea,” grandma snaps, but quickly goes flat again. “Not just the two of them.”

I have to fight to keep my voice as flat as hers. “Still, there are people who’d kill for the prophecy,” I say.

“The same could be said for practically anything, darling.”

That makes the fledgling hope curl up and die inside me. “I guess you’re right,” I whisper, more to myself than her.

And I look down at my feet, but it’s at that very moment that grandma stops and lifts a finger in the air, making me almost bump into her.

My heart now racing, I look around but see nothing out of the ordinary. I come to stand next to her and fix my eyes on her profile.

I know this look. It’s like she’s been frozen in place, eyes searching, nose working. She’s letting her wolf sniff. I wait with bated breath.

And when she turns to me, there’s a mix of surprise and excitement on her face.

Just as I think she’s about to believe me, I see her shake it off.

She comes a step closer, takes me by the upper arm and says, “If you’re looking for some higher meaning in your parents’ death, Rhea, that’s perfectly understandable.” I feel myself getting red in the face. “Just don’t mistake wishful thinking for actual reasoning.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I rush to say, even though that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

Grandma looks at me with suspicion in her eyes.

But it is true, that the other thing is bothering me as well. “I just,” I start, breaking off for a second in search of words. “It doesn’t make sense. Next to all the people who’d intentionally kill to be somehow involved, for me to be the one to…”

To my surprise, grandma gives me a smile. “You know why it doesn’t make sense?”

I just look at her, my breath hitching.

“Because nothing of the sort is going to happen.” But this time, she doesn’t sound so sure.

“What if it does?” I ask, failing to keep emotion out of my voice. I’m scared and desperate, and I can’t help it.

“If it does…” Her eyes soften and she shakes her head a little. “It’s actually pretty simple.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “When you harness his power, all you need to do is refuse it.”

I frown.

“Find a way to refuse it,” grandma insists. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” I finally say.

She gives me another smile, lets go of my arm and motions for me to follow her.

And she’s being more careful, her steps softer and her movements stiffer. Just looking at her is making me tense up. She’s found something.

I fix my eyes ahead, but it’s too dark now and I can’t see past the trees that are closest to me.

So when it happens, I stop midstep, my jaw dropping open.

We’ve walked out of the forest and into a clearing lit only by the light of the aggressively red Blood Moon. No. Not a clearing.

A wasteland.

My throat tightens as my eyes sweep over it. The darkness may be playing tricks on me, but I don’t think I can even see the other side of the forest, that’s how large this is.

And all around the borders, there are those bones sticking out. The enormity of it all makes it hard for my brain to catch up on what the eyes are seeing.

It’s a huge, huge ribcage. It’s so large, the size of the animal that could carry it inside is hard to even imagine. It would defy the laws of nature itself.

After the initial shock, I turn to look at grandma and find her equally transfixed. It’s the first time ever that I’m seeing her… dumbfounded.

“Now what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

But just as I do that, I see her eyes narrow and I hear that sound, where have I heard that sound before?

My head snaps to a spot a ways off to my right, where I see someone materialize.

Wagner?

No. My heart skips a beat. It’s Synn.

And he’s just standing there, his jaw clenching and his eyes darting from me to grandma and back.

There’s a second of silence before he calls out, “Rhea.” His voice is demanding, commanding.

I frown, but I move to walk towards him.

Grandma grabs me by the wrist. “Rhea,” she says when I turn to look at her, looking surprised.

Her voice is warning and for a second, I just stand there, not knowing what’s going on, what to do and where to go.

And he looks much better, but Synn is also still standing there and for some reason, that worries me.

Chapter 30 - Synn

She’s hesitating, but at least she’s not telling me to fuck off. When I see her break her arm free from her grandmother’s grip and move towards me, my heart skips a beat. Yes, just come to me.

“Rhea, get back here this instant,” Lyca commands.

It makes my blood boil, just hearing her voice.

But Rhea’s stopped midstep and it’s her I need to focus on. “No, don’t do it,” I urge her. “Don’t listen to her.”

She comes closer, but not too close. “What’re you doing here?” she mutters, frowning.

“Rhea,” I hear her grandmother call out, “I forbid you to come any closer to that man.”

I take a few cautious steps closer, so as not to scare her. She doesn’t move away. “Just hear me out,” I rush to say before she changes her mind. “Nine years ago, I learned about the prophecy and I figured out who it was talking about.”

I see the interest in her eyes, although there’s more there, as if something’s distracting her. “But the child in question,” I say, fighting for her attention, “when I went to see her, it turned out she was an actual child. You were only fifteen years old, Rhea. So I decided to speak to your grandmother instead of you, thinking she’d take protecting you and everyone else into her own hands.”

“He’s lying,” I hear her grandmother say, “none of that ever happened.”

We both ignore her. I look deep into her eyes, searching for hints of her remembering.

She frowns, but just as I think she’ll shake her head, she says, “But it was me you spoke to.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You were the student who asked me to give her a message, to tell her you wanted to talk to her.”

I nod vigorously, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yes. Once it all happened, I just thought you never did give her that message.”

To my surprise, her head snaps left then right, as if she’s heard something. When she turns back to me, there’s something in her eyes that makes fear flood my body. And I want to come closer and take her hand, but I know better.

“It’s your grandmother, Rhea,” I rush to say, my voice coming out more aggressive than I’d like. “Somehow, I know it, she’s about to do you harm.”

There’s a flash of surprise in her eyes.

“You really think you can make a fool of her like that?” Lyca asks and starts walking towards us.

I don’t take my eyes away from Rhea. Please, believe me, I urge her in my mind. But the very next second, she shakes her head with this strange, absent look in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” I mutter. She doesn’t say anything, she just looks away again, frowning, as if there’s something there I can’t see.

Then she stumbles back a little and starts walking away, towards the center of the clearing.

I rush after her, but her grandmother blocks my way, making my entire body vibrate with the need to kill her with my bare hands.

“See,” she drawls as she throws daggers at me. “Why did you ever think she’d believe a murderer?”

“You set me up,” I snarl at her, but I immediately look away so as not to let Rhea out of my sight.

What is she doing? Where is she going?

“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” I hear Lyca say as I keep my eyes fixed on her granddaughter. “I’m talking about the little thing that happened the day you broke out.”

Shame burns me to the core. I turn to her, only to see a self-satisfied smile on her face. With the corner of my eye, I notice Rhea stop and turn to look at me, frowning.

“How do you know?” I demand. And it makes my voice breathless, the thought of Rhea hearing it.

“I got in possession of a certain guard’s memories,” her grandmother replies flatly, but she’s smirking. “A guard that so selflessly agreed to help you only for you to sacrifice him so you could escape.”

I just stare at her for a second, my jaw clenching and my hands balling into fists. Then I push past and rush to her granddaughter.

She’s just standing there, the look in those beautiful brown eyes making my heart break into a million pieces. “Rhea,” I call out, my voice breathless and desperate. “I know I’m not a good man, but please, listen to me just this once and you’ll never have to see me again. Get away from her,” I plead as I motion at her grandmother, “run as fast as you can and don’t look back.”

I sense her even before she pushes past me and puts her arm around Rhea’s shoulder. “My granddaughter is staying with me,” she drawls as she turns to throw daggers at me. “And I’ve destroyed that little piece of paper of yours so you’ll be on your way back to Nasgard, soon.”

Fucking bitch. My chest heaving, I open my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but she turns to Rhea.

“Rhea, darling, go,” she tells her. “Go where your heart is leading you.”

Rhea just looks at her for a second, the look in her eyes still strangely absent. “Refuse, you said to refuse.” It sounds as if she’s struggling to talk.

“There’ll be time for that later,” Lyca urges, “now find it!”

Rhea throws another glance at me and I try to keep her eyes locked with mine, but she just looks away and starts walking somewhere. Where the fuck is she going?

I move to follow, but her grandmother just blocks my way, throwing me a look filled with hatred. Then her lips curl into a smile and I see her slowly raise her staff off the ground.

My heart skips a beat.

Fuck.

The next second, I’m spinning around and throwing myself in the air, my breath held and my focus sharp as a knife. Flailing to keep myself in the air for as long as possible, I hear the staff hit the ground and I see the wave ripple through, spreading from where she summoned it.

No, no, no, I think as I start falling, the ground beneath me still charged.

Then my body hits it and the shock almost blinds me.

For a second, I can’t even move, I can only listen to the ringing in my ears and her footsteps drawing near. Get the fuck up, I snarl at myself, my mind rushing to Rhea and whatever the hell is going on with her. And I push myself up and I jump off the ground.

When I turn to face Lyca, she’s not a lot more than an arm length away. I throw a glance at Rhea, my eyebrows pulling down when I spot her.

She’s on all fours, digging.

“Rhea,” I yell out, but with the corner of my eye, I see her grandmother lifting the staff again.

Balling one hand into a fist, I tap one of my Runes and I send a wall of air to slam into her, already picturing throwing her to the ground.

But she just lifts her staff like a shield and sends it all flying back to me.

It knocks me back with an even greater force than the one I sent, making me come crashing to the ground, its hardness nearly breaking my back.

I swallow a cry and I jump up. Letting out an angry growl, I send a whole swarm of air blades straight at her.

My heart thumps in anticipation as I watch her double back, raising her hand to shield herself again.

There are the familiar sounds when the blades hit.

And when Lyca drops her hand to the side, she remains standing, but she’s panting, blood trickling down a dozen or so cuts on her face, neck and arms.

“I will murder you the way I should’ve murdered you a long time ago,” she growls as she lunges at me.

I send another wall of air at her. She slams into it and stumbles back, her chest heaving with anger.

“You think I give a fuck?” I snarl at her. “That day, when you set me up and threw me in the place closest to hell a man could ever get without dying…” I stop to throw daggers at her. “You know what you really did then?”

Panting, she just stares at me with hatred in her eyes.

I dart to her, I get in her face and I motion at Rhea. “You just made sure my path crossed hers again,” I drawl with such rage in my veins, I’m surprised it’s not setting me on fire. “And for that, it was all worth it. So yeah, kill me, burn the world to the ground for all I care, but you’re not laying another fucking finger on Rhea.”

She just stares at me for a second. When she speaks, it’s in a low voice filled with a strange thrill. “I’ll have my wolf gouge your eyes out and eat them like candy.”

And she moves the hand with the staff and I jump up, landing on a disk of dense air.

But she just smirks at me, and instead of hitting the ground with it, she hits my chest.

The next second, I’m falling backwards, my eyes rounding as I feel the shock shutting down my organs.

“No!” I hear Rhea yell out as I hit the ground, my eyes landing on the starless sky above, the full Moon at its velvety center.

Then I see Rhea’s face block it, her eyebrows pulled down as she grabs me by my shirt and tries to pull me up. With one hand, because in the other, she’s holding something round and heavy.

“What’s wrong with you?” she’s yelling at me, but the sound is weirdly muffled and there’s nothing wrong with me.

There should be. But I can’t feel anything.

Chapter 31 - Rhea

Isee Synn’s eyes close, but he’s still breathing. I let go of his shirt, my fingers numb and my heart skipping random beats. Still, I stay crouching next to him, feeling the thing in my hand throbbing.

“Rhea?” I hear grandma call out.

I stumble to my feet and turn to look at her. She’s standing close by and she’s squinting, but the look on her face is soft.

“Give me that, Rhea,” she says as she motions at my hand.

I stand between her and the man lying on the ground. “Don’t hurt him, please,” I say in a weird, small voice.

“I won’t,” she replies calmly, taking a small step forward and reaching out her hand. “You only need to give it to me. Now is the time to refuse.”

I look down at what I can only describe as a tarred piece of stone. It’s oval, except for the couple of stumps sticking out from one end. It’s no longer calling to me, I have it in my hand, and I don’t feel as distracted as I was a second ago.

But it’s still throbbing. And with every throb comes a shudder of unease followed by the world around me distorting for a second.

“Rhea, you promised,” I hear grandma say.

“Why are you doing this, gran?” I ask without looking up. I can’t look up.

She stays silent for a second. Then she takes a step closer and speaks in a velvety soft voice. “You want to leave the world a better place, don’t you, darling?”

I keep my eyes fixed on the thing, but I nod.

“Well, if you give me that,” she starts, “your grandmother will become the most powerful person in the whole wide world and together, we’ll get things done.”

I look up to find her staring at me. I frown, the throbbing intensifying and the world around me distorting again. This time, for longer than a single second. “If that’s what you want,” I squeeze out, feeling breathless, “well, I’m the child of prophecy. Why not let me keep it?”

Grandma’s eyes dart to the thing in my hand. I can tell she’s noticed the throbbing. But then she walks up to me and reaches to touch my arm. I move back.

She lets out a little sigh and says, “You’re not nearly strong enough, Rhea. I had to make sure you remained a pure vessel for the power.”

That makes my eyebrows pull down and my mind start buzzing.

At the same time, I spot a shapeless shadow appear behind grandma, my heart racing at the very sight. She doesn’t turn to look at it. I shake my head, telling myself I must be hallucinating.

“Rhea,” she calls out to me.

And the shadow is still shapeless, but now I can see its eyes and I start to think I know what my grandma’s talking about.

“The pills…” I mutter. As soon as I say it, the shadow’s mouth appears, curling into a smile.

But it’s my grandma I choose to look at. She’s throwing me a sorry look, but the thing in my hand is throbbing so hard now, I can barely stop myself from flinging it away. And as it hits me with full force, the fact that all my life she’d been using those pills and my guilt to suppress my wolf, the shadow behind her finally takes shape.

“How long have you known about this?” I snarl, motioning at the stone and forcing myself not to look at the wolf behind her.

She frowns. “How long?” she echoes. “Does it matter?”

The wolf behind her moves through the shadows, her black fur glistening in the moonlight and her yellow eyes narrowing as they fix on her throat. As she does that, I feel my body start to shake with rage, more rage than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I take a wobbly step back, my throat tightening as I stare my grandma down. “There’s not a single picture of you with your daughter after she married my father, the filthy vampire, is there?” I demand. My voice is shaky and brimming with anger when I continue, “And somehow, you were the one who found me when it happened, when someone came and murdered them all in their sleep, like the vampires murdered your pack all those years ago.”

For a second, there’s only silence, not even my heart beating in my chest.

Then, for a second, my grandma closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” she says softly but tensely. “She wasn’t supposed to be there that night.”

I just stare at her, my entire life flashing before my eyes as my stomach twists, filling the rest of my body with cold dread.

“Listen to me, Rhea,” she says, her voice urging, her eyes sparkling. “By the time you were born, I’d been trying to find the prophecy for decades. You can’t even imagine the things I had to do. And then,” she says with a bitter scoff, “it turns out it’s my own grandchild, chosen to harness his power. I couldn’t let you be raised by the most vile creatures walking this Earth.”

Throbbing, the throbbing is deafening now and the wolf is letting out a low, threatening growl. A choked-up sound escapes my lips and I move to take a step back, shaking my head.

She follows, but I don’t let her catch up. “I can’t believe I never saw you for who you are,” I mutter, hating how pathetic I sound.

She lets out a laugh. “You’re a silly little girl, Rhea,” she snaps. “You saw nothing for what it was yesterday and you see nothing for what it is now.”

She takes another step closer, making the wolf behind her snap her teeth. “Now give me the heart or I will have to take it by force.”

“Stop it,” I almost yell out, desperation in my voice. “Can’t you see what you’re doing?”

It’s then that I spot it, movement from where Synn is lying. Grandmother’s head snaps back.

“Take it, Rhea,” I hear Synn say as I watch him struggling to get up, his voice pained but filled with determination. “Take the power for yourself,” he urges me.

I turn to look at grandmother. She just lets out a scoff and immediately turns back to me. I feel myself grit my teeth.

And just as she moves to snatch the thing from my hand, I lift it up and I open my mouth.

As the two of them watch in silence, I bite down, hard, focusing all my anger into that one movement.

I see two pairs of eyes round in surprise as my teeth penetrate the soft, chewy surface of what looked like stone.

The heart throbs, one last time, and the next second, the very earth below me starts to shake and then crack.

I see grandmother and Synn fight not to lose balance and I guess I should be doing the same, but I’m frozen in place, my body surging with something I’ve never experienced before. Power so pure and unbridled, I feel it’s going to fry me.

I try to break free, I try to refuse it by throwing the heart away. But the bloodied thing in my hand just sends a shock of rage through me, rage so great and intense, it makes me want to close my eyes shut, curl up somewhere dark and die.

But it’s too late, I now know it’s too late. And just as I turn to look at Synn and open my mouth to scream for help, I hear a low, rumbling sound and I see the bones all around me shake as if they’re trying to dig themselves out of the ground.

The next thing I know, my stomach jumps and I find myself high up in the air, splayed on the back of something so large and confusing that I can do nothing but grab its fur and frown. The fur is solid yet… not. The body is there yet the creature is pure energy.

And the two of them are so far below, but my senses are sharper than ever before and I can still see them so clearly.

The terror in their eyes.

It’s just at that moment that the creature I’ve found myself on cranes its neck and stares straight at me, its yellow eyes, the eyes of a wolf, burning as bright as if they were fire itself.

For a second, there’s silence, my heart pounding violently.

Then Lycan bares his teeth and lets out a growl that seems to shake the very world around me.

Chapter 32 - Rhea

As the beast stares at me, fear numbs my body and empties out my brain. I can’t even look away. I can only keep holding on tight so I don’t fall to my death.

Then the beast snaps its head away, making me let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. But its body seems to be shaking with that same pure rage I felt a second ago.

And it arches its spine, preparing to lunge and sending my heart racing. It’s going to kill them, it’s going to kill them both.

But it doesn’t even throw them a glance. It just leaps high up into the air, so high and so suddenly, I almost throw up.

And while still in the air, it lands on its paws as if there’s ground beneath them and keeps sprinting. It sprints higher and higher, until I’m barely holding on, until the only thing I can see is the sky around me and until the air in my lungs starts to feel thinner, weaker.

Not daring to look down and struggling to calm my breathing, I yell out, “Stop it, please.”

It doesn’t. It just keeps going and I keep getting more and more lightheaded, unable to struggle, to get off, to do anything.

But just as my body starts going numb and my fingers loosen the grip on its fur, the beast suddenly slows down and starts going down.

It needs me, I realize as I hold on tighter, gasping for air.

It needs me, I keep repeating to myself as I hear it start emitting that earth-shattering growl.

“What do you want?” I yell out as it keeps going down.

It doesn’t say anything. I don’t think it can talk, at least not in a language I can understand. Instead of words, I get flashes of emotions, emotions as old as time itself.

And as it comes closer to the Academy grounds, I see where it’s headed.

Straight for the Arena, where the Third Round of the Trials is supposed to be in progress.

But right now, everyone seems to be gathered in front of it, watching the beast charge at them. And I can see them all so clearly, the Pied Piper, Edgar, Griselda, everyone, their faces frozen in terror.

Until a lot of them start screaming and running the hell away, the Pied Piper trying to take control of the situation.

And the closer the beast gets, the more filled with burning rage it is. Rage at shifters, the Originals, living beings in general.

It’s then that it hits me. It’s going to kill them all. And once it’s done here, it’s going to move on to the next place. Then the next. Then the next. And so on and so forth, until there’s no living being left at all.

To my surprise, instead of fear, all I can feel is determination. I muster all my strength, I grab the beast’s fur tighter and I try to force it to head for the mountains behind the Academy grounds. Where there’s no one we could end up killing.

It’s at that exact moment that I see a bird fly by and I hear a sound coming from the Lycan Forest. A low but mesmerizing whistle.

The beast tenses up beneath me and my heart breaks into a gallop, thinking I’ll be getting thrown off any second now.

But the beast just takes a sharp turn and starts going back to the forest, to where we came from.

There, it lands right at the center of the clearing, snarling at the figure who called it back. Grandmother, who’s lying on her back, Synn pinning her down as she keeps her fingers clenched tightly around that whistle I saw in her office.

They’re both bloodied almost beyond recognition.

But as soon as we land, grandmother kicks him in the chest and jumps to her feet, her hair all disheveled and her robe torn.

And she comes rushing straight towards me.

I see Synn kick himself off the ground and lunge after her.

“No,” I yell out, his eyes immediately snapping to mine. “Leave her.”

He obeys, retreating a few steps back as my grandmother throws herself on the ground below Lycan’s feet.

She doesn’t even look at me. She just bows her head so low, her forehead touches the ground, and she starts murmuring something to herself.

But I can hear it. I can hear all of it.

“My lord, oh many-faced god,” she mutters, the shaking in her voice making my eyebrows shoot up, “I’ve been your humblest servant my entire life. All I ask of you now is to acknowledge my sacrifice and take me instead of her. I will serve you as best I can and I will be a worthy vessel for all your rage. Take me now and we will wipe the scum off the face of the earth and rule over all that are just with an iron fist.”

I just look at her in silence. And I don’t hear it talk and I don’t see it do anything, but the beast beneath me is not pleased, its rage focusing on a single point now. It lifts a paw, just one, but it’s more than enough to crush my grandmother to death.

“No,” I yell out, gritting my teeth to stop it from letting the paw fall down.

The beast freezes mid movement. But only for a second. Then it snaps its head back to me and bares its teeth, snarling at me in a way that makes blood curdle in my veins.

“You can let it go, Rhea,” I hear a familiar voice boom from somewhere behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see Raven circling us. My heart skips a beat then tightens in my chest.

But there’s no time to tell her how glad I am to hear her voice. I turn back to grandmother, my mind buzzing. Yes, that’s what I’m supposed to do.

And I don’t say anything. I just grip Lycan’s fur tighter and I lean in, closing my eyes and letting my emotions float to the surface. Yes, I tell it, you’re right to feel what you’re feeling, but we’re here, we’re all here already. And life is not over until it’s over. So you need to let us all go.

For a second, I think that’ll be it.

Then the beast starts thrashing under me, threatening to throw me off. My heart thundering in my chest, I summon all of my own rage and I tell it to stop. Things are not over until they’re over, I chant as I focus all my mental energy on subduing the beast’s rage. The beginning does not define the end. Let us go. Let us go and I will carry you inside me for as long as I live.

The beast stops. It cranes its neck to look at me, its yellow eyes burning holes in mine.

But it finds no lies there.

The very next second, the beast arches its spine and dives into the ground, the earth beneath it giving in like putty.

And I find myself lying on it, no sign of Lycan anywhere.

There’s only the sound of my grandmother screaming.

It makes blood curdle in my veins, but when I look up at her and see her charging at me, I see she’s not hurt.

She’s just angrier and more out of control than I’ve ever seen her.

I open my mouth to tell her to stop right there, but before I can, I hear both Synn and Raven yell out my name and I see her leap and shift midair.

It makes me suck in a breath, when I see the wolf come to land before me.

It’s not the wolf I remember. This one, I notice as a shudder rushes down my spine, is a sick, deformed animal.

As it bares its teeth at me, all I can see is the rage in its eyes.

“Grandmother,” I start, but I don’t finish.

My grandmother, my only living family, snaps her teeth at me and lunges to attack.

It’s at that moment that something breaks inside me, I let out a furious growl…

And I shift.

I shift, making the wolf that was about to attack stop and double back.

The entire world around me seems to change. It’s so full of life, life I normally have no way of registering. The sounds, the smells, the energy, it all overwhelms me, just like it did when I was little and I shifted for the first time.

But this time, the power is not too much to handle.

I see the wolf before me hesitate for a second. It’s sick, and my own body is stiff from years of being caged, but I’m so powerful, I feel like I could tear the whole world down.

I bare my teeth at my grandmother.

She lets out a snarl and moves to attack.

Hot rage floods my body and I let her rip into my flesh, but it doesn’t hurt. Nothing could hurt now, now that I’m free, now that I can fight back.

And I let it, I let my rage take over and I lunge, opening my jaws and snapping them shut around the wolf’s neck.

I’m holding my grandmother by the neck and lifting her off the ground, the life energy seeping out of her.

She doesn’t even wince, she just starts thrashing. And she thrashes and thrashes, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

But that’s not what snaps me out of it. What snaps me out of it is the overwhelming urge to kill, to inflict pain for every lie told and every transgression made.

I force myself to let go.

And the thing that comes crashing to the ground, it knocks the air out of my lungs when, for the first time ever, I see it.

Not the regal grandmother, not the esteemed member of the Council, not the legendary shifter.

As she struggles to get herself on her thin, shaky paws again, eyes wild and teeth bared, all I see is an animal in a world of pain, a being so filled with fear that all it can do is rage at the world and fight to put it all under her control.

So she can finally stop being afraid.

It fills me with so much sorrow, I feel I can’t breathe.

I guess that’s why I just stand there, on all fours, letting her push herself off the ground and move for another attack.

It’s then that I see Synn rushing towards us and Raven circling the air above her.

I let out a growl, warning them away, but I hear Raven yell out, “Run, Rhea,” and I see Synn tap one of his Runes and swing his arm back with a savage look in his eyes.

Grandmother turns to them and snarls viciously, kicking her body off the ground and catching Raven between her teeth.

My heart skips a beat and I yell out, “No.”

But grandmother has already tossed Raven to the side and sunk her teeth into Synn’s shoulder, right below the neck.

Rage floods my body. I push myself off the ground with my hind legs and I come crashing into her, Synn falling somewhere behind my back.

I lift myself up using all four paws and I come to stand above my grandmother, staring deep into her eyes as my chest heaves with all the pent-up emotion.

So much rage, still so much rage in there.

And all of a sudden, I know exactly what to do.

I close my eyes and I let the memory of Lycan’s power stir something deep inside me. And it’s hard, it’s so hard focusing all your energy and more into a single point like that, but when I open my eyes, it’s my grandmother lying there, not her wolf.

I’m panting with effort, but I’m barely registering it. I’m waiting for her reaction.

At first, she just stares at me with rounded eyes. Then they narrow and she spits out in a coarse, bitter voice, “What did you do to me?”

It’s the voice of a madwoman if ever I heard one.

I shift back, still panting as I land on two feet instead of four paws. “I took it away from you,” I say in a strangely flat voice.

She kicks herself off the ground and grabs me by the shoulders. “Give it back,” she screams at me, “give it back, right now.”

For a second, I just look at her. Then I shake my head and I break free of her grip.

“Do you even understand,” I hear her drawl as I turn on my heel, “what you just did, you stupid, stupid girl, after everything I’ve done for you…”

I spin around and I get in her face, lifting a finger and throwing daggers at her, but not saying a word. It makes it hard to breathe, the enormity of my emotions, and so it makes it hard to speak as well.

But it’s not hard for the wolf inside me to start emitting a low growl. So quiet at first but slowly turning less so. And in it, contained a lifetime of anger.

I see surprise flash through my grandmother’s eyes and I see her jaw clench. But she takes a step back.

And I turn on my heel, but with the corner of my eye, I see her let her body fall to the ground and just keep sitting there, fixing her eyes on a spot on the ground.

I don’t waste time because I have none. I spin around and see Synn lying on the ground before me, his entire body bruised and bloodied. But what catches my attention and makes my stomach drop to the floor is his leg.

It’s been torn open, torn open by his own bone.

I gulp, but then I come to kneel next to him, my mind scrambling to get something relevant out of everything grandmother taught me about healing.

But that’s not what I’m supposed to do, it hits me as I notice blood still gushing out of the wound. What I’m supposed to do is just… will it to happen.

Like Lycan would, I think as I put my hand over the wound. To Lycan, there are no different types of magic, no different types of skills. It’s all one and the same, the energy constant and unbroken, forever and ever.

I don’t allow myself to fear for the life of the man I’m trying to heal. I just recite these things to myself, sucking in a breath when I see the bone snap back into place, blood stop gushing out of the wound and the tear in the flesh start to close up.

The very next second, I notice his eyes fighting to open. I slump back onto the balls of my heels, letting out a shaky breath, but not allowing myself to linger. Raven, I need to find Raven next.

I push myself off the ground and I look around, focusing on something small and black and probably sticky with blood.

And I spot it and I come running towards it, throwing myself to my knees in front of her.

“I didn’t mean to ignore Rhea,” she coughs out as soon as her eyes land on me. “Back in the woods, I was trying to tell her it’s me. You know I love her, you know I love Rhea?”

“That’s alright, Raven,” I try to shush her, my heart constricting in my chest. “I love you, too.”

But I can’t linger on it. She doesn’t seem to have long and I’ll have to be quick, I think to myself.

I start closing my eyes and summoning the power back when I notice something strange happening. Raven’s body disappears and instead of her, I see a woman, lying unconscious and naked where my bird was just a second ago, her long black hair curling around her neck and her shoulders.

I feel my eyebrows pull down, but it’s then that I hear it and the sound immediately sends my heart racing. The low growling getting closer by the second.

The hounds.

My head snaps to Synn, my body preparing to rush to him, to drag him somewhere safe, but when my eyes land on him, I see he’s awake, still lying there but propped up on his elbows.

And with the corner of my eye, I can already see the Authority Officers barging onto the clearing, followed by the hounds. But he’s not looking at them.

He’s looking at me.

My breathing shaky, I open my mouth to scream at him to run the hell away, but the look in his eyes…

It renders me speechless, the softness of the ‘goodbye’ I see in them.

The very next moment, the Authority Officers are pulling him off the ground, so mercilessly, all I want is to scream at them.

But he doesn’t let me look away.

And as I hear them start reciting his rights to him, the sound that’s reaching me all muffled, he gives me a smile.

And the smile wraps around my heart and, with a single gentle tug, breaks it into a million tiny pieces.

Chapter 33 - Rhea

I’m sitting in the nearly empty cafeteria, glancing at Raven squinting as she struggles using a fork, mostly because she’s being too eager to eat everything all at once. It’s been a good eight hours of sitting in shocked silence together, but the sight of her still makes me frown in confusion. With her delicate facial features, raven hair pulled into a ponytail, and my Academy shorts and T-shirt hanging off her tomboyish body, she looks like a girl coming for orientation fresh out of high school.

Yet, she’s a two-hundred-year-old princess of a long-lost shifter kingdom. At least that’s what she remembers now that the curse has been lifted.

I look down at my plate, but I feel no hunger whatsoever. An image of Synn pops into my head, temporarily locked up in a cell in the basement of the Grimm Tower. Then an image of my grandmother, lying in bed in the hospital wing, refusing to speak.

“Why do you think it got broken?” I ask, making her look up.

She tilts her head at me and once again makes me feel like I’m losing my mind.

For some reason, she blushes. “I don’t know, Rhea,” she says, her voice no longer shrill, albeit still a little high-pitched.

But I have a sneaking suspicion she’s lying to me. “How do you feel?” I ask, for the millionth time since it happened.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Rhea.”

Like a goddamn parrot. That’s what she’s become now that she’s no longer trapped in her animal form.

It’s at that exact moment that I feel the need to look over my shoulder. I see Edgar marching towards us, making my heart skip a beat in anticipation. He’s got news.

“They’ve decided to accept it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, my body slumping in my chair. “Good,” I say, turning to Raven. “I’m going to see if they’ll let me visit him. Want to come with?”

She just blinks at me for a second. Then she shakes her head.

“What’s the matter with you?” I demand, frowning.

“She was supposed to tell you,” Edgar cuts in, making me turn to look at him. He has an apologetic look on his face. “We think it’s not a good idea for you to be in the same room with him again.”

I throw a frown at her. “Seriously?”

“He’s not some lunatic,” I insist, not taking my eyes off her. My voice turns bitter as I say, “He was a perfectly normal guy until my grandmother happened to him.”

“That’s not what’s worrying me,” she replies without turning to look at me.

“Then what is?”

She lets out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know, Rhea. It’s been a couple of centuries since I was a human. As I think it’s said these days, maybe she should give me a break.”

“Okay,” I hear Edgar drawl. “I’m gonna leave you two to, well, do whatever you need to do. Just don’t forget the send-off brunch, R.”

I do wave him away, impatiently, but neither I nor Raven give him so much as a glance as he gets up and walks away.

“Give you a break, huh?” I echo her words. “Maybe that’s exactly what I should do,” I say and I move to walk away.

She throws a surprised glance at me.

But I only manage to take one step before I feel a small, warm hand on my upper arm. I turn around to see Raven looking at me with a pained expression on her face.

“Rhea,” she starts, her voice all choked-up. “The last thing I remember of my existence…” She pauses, searching for words. “It’s losing my entire family to a curse,” she finally says, “and then breaking that curse only to have it placed on me. And here…” She looks up at me, fighting not to show emotion. “Now…”

It’s then that it finally hits me. How Raven must feel after her two-century long curse, all alone in this strange land and time. I take a step closer.

“I’m just going to say goodbye to him,” I say gently, “not leave and never come back.”

She just looks at me.

I grab her by the hand and I squeeze it tight. “I’m here for you, Raven. You know that?”

Now, that makes her blink at me and her mouth crack into the cutest little smile. “Yes, Rhea,” she says with a sharp nod. “She should come back so we can try more food together. I’ve read about this really popular dish called Pop Tarts and I’m dying to see one pop.”

I snort out a laugh and then give her a solemn nod.

I turn on my heel and I rush to catch up with Edgar. I dart into the Elevator with him just before the door closes.

He throws me a grin as he pushes a button. To my surprise, he seems to have decided to accompany me to the Grimm Tower, Level Minus One.

“What about the brunch?” I demand, squinting at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says with a smile.

I don’t even bother answering, that’s how much I no longer care about the thing. “Do you think they’ll let me see him?” I ask as I turn to face the door.

“You’re the badass who stopped Lycan himself from killing a lot of people, R,” he says as he throws me a sideways glance. “I don’t think they’ll refuse you.”

The Elevator door opens, and we step out, finding ourselves on Level Minus One, a previously unused floor now occupied by a couple of Authority Officers assigned to Synn’s case, sitting at a desk, writing reports.

I grab Edgar’s hand, making him turn to look at me. It surprises me when I hear myself say, “I’m not a badass, Ed. I was so scared and now I’m even more so.”

The look in his eyes soften. “You are a badass, you were just hiding it from everyone.” He pauses, giving my hand a squeeze and throwing me a smile. “But you couldn’t hide it from everyone,” he says with a wink.

That makes me let out a little laugh. “Thanks, Ed. But you don’t have to go any further than this,” I say as I glance at the stairs leading down into the dungeon.

To my surprise, he laughs. “Oh I’m not here for you, R.” He motions at the Authority Officer. “I just have some questions for these people about their jobs. Consider it a date with destiny.”

“Oh I want to hear all about that.”

But it’s at that exact moment that one of the Officers finishes scribbling, gets up and comes to see what we’re here for.

Chapter 34 - Rhea

The Officer says it’s okay, so I walk up to the stairs and start going down. And I’ve been here before, once, a long long time ago, on a tour of the Academy. But back then, the wet stone walls and the rusty sconces didn’t look as… real. Then again, there were no people imprisoned down there, let alone ones I knew and had very confusing, conflicting feelings for.

I get to the bottom of the stairs and the guard at the solitary door steps to the side as soon as he sees me. He unlocks it, sending my heart racing when he pushes it open, the rusty hinges letting out a pained creak.

I nod at him, I take a deep breath and I walk into the darkness.

There, I find Synn already squinting at me from the shadows, sitting on a low bench along the wall opposite to me, his forearms resting on his thighs. He doesn’t get up, he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps squinting at me.

I had a whole speech prepared, trying to say sorry for my grandmother ruining his life. But now that I’m here… There’s a lot more I want to say, there’s a lot more I want, but I find myself silenced by the memory of that cold, cold look in his eyes after I threw myself at him all those months ago.

I just keep standing there, wondering what the hell I’m even doing, until he throws a glance at the door that’s still open and then breaks the silence. “You look good,” he says. Then he clears his throat and adds, “Recovered, I mean.”

“You don’t,” I reply, surprised when my voice comes out flat. I throw a glance at the blood all over his clothes, some dried-up, some fresh. My heart tightens. “Haven’t they treated you at all?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just keeps staring at me with an indecipherable look in his eyes. It makes my mind rush to the day before yesterday, when they were taking him away. And I can’t bear the thought and I can’t bear the silent treatment he’s giving me.

“Didn’t they tell you you’re free to go?” I ask.

Not yet, judging by the bitter scoff he lets out. “As if. The only evidence of me being innocent has been destroyed.”

I shake my head. “Apparently,” I tell him, “Wagner knew he might die and left a letter explaining his findings. He included the report, which he must have stolen from my…” And I almost say grandmother, but I stop myself at the very last second. “They’ve just told us they’ll be accepting it as evidence.”

For a second, he doesn’t even move. Then he gets up, sending my heart racing when I see him take a step closer, squinting at me. “I’m free to go?” he asks in a breathless voice.

“Yeah,” I say, my eyebrows pulling down as I stare deeper into his eyes. “Seems you really converted the man. The Warden, I mean.”

He just looks at me for a second. “Doesn’t change the fact I’m a lying piece of trash, does it?” he says in a low, tense voice.

I frown. It’s at that moment that I finally decide it would be too complicated and too painful and too useless for me to try to pour my heart out to him. There’s a moment of silence before I choose to say, “I’m sorry, for everything. Really.”

He doesn’t respond. At first, he doesn’t even move. Then his mouth twitches and his jaw clenches, but he just turns around and walks over to the window.

“And,” I start, struggling to find words and keep my voice flat, “I wish you all the best.”

He gives me a sharp nod, but he doesn’t turn to look at me. I keep standing there for a second, staring at his back.

Then I turn on my heel and I walk out of the cell. I nod at the guard, barely registering him, and I start marching up the stairs and I don’t stop marching. I just roam the castle grounds, unaware of my surroundings.

I don’t know how long it takes me to finally get to my floor in the Lycan Tower, where the other girls are taking their suitcases out of their rooms, chatting excitedly.

That all stops as soon as their eyes land on me. I just throw them all a smile and walk up to my door, thinking how strange it is to be the center of all that attention. The girl who rode Lycan. And they don’t even know the whole story, I think to myself, wondering for a second if I might’ve imagined it all.

But just as I reach for the doorknob, I hear that sound and I sense someone behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see Synn standing there in the common room, looking at me while the girls behind him all press themselves against the wall, their faces pale and their eyes rounded.

“Will you let me in?” he asks.

I shake my head and turn my back to him, seeing the girls making themselves scarce.

And I’m already opening the door when he comes to block my way and makes me look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he shakes his head. “I just… ‘Wish you all the best,’” he echoes my words with a bitter scoff. “That can’t be the last thing you say to me.”

“Why not?” I snap. As if we’re goddamn girlfriend and boyfriend.

“Fine, but I just have one thing to tell you,” he rushes to say, “and then you’ll be rid of me forever.”

I just look at him for a second. Then I motion for him to get away from the door and I open it, letting him in.

It almost makes me laugh, seeing him pull his head down so as not to hit the doorframe and then look around, the large somber man in my little pink room.

I close the door, take a few steps back and fold my arms, waiting for him to talk.

He fixes his eyes on me. “I know you won’t believe me,” he starts, something feverish in his voice. “But the reason I never showed you that report…” He pauses, as if it’s hard for him to get the words out. “It was only to protect you.”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” I say flatly. “Apparently, you’re more selfless than a lot of people who didn’t end up in Nasgard.”

He stalks over to me, so close, I have to look up to meet his eyes. “I’m being serious,” he insists.

“So am I,” I reply, my arms still folded.

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. “But you’re mad because I lied to you.”

I shake my head. “I’m not mad. I just feel this is all a bit absurd.”

“You know,” he insists, his voice low and pained, “I would never hide anything from you again. Never ever.”

“Why are you here?” I snap at him, throwing my arms to my sides and balling my hands into fists. “You got your freedom, didn’t you? Go then, live your life,” I say as I motion at the door.

Then he comes a little closer, making my eyebrows pull down when he slides his hands around my waist. “You’re the only thing that makes that freedom worth anything,” he whispers into my neck, making me suck in a sharp breath. “You’re the only reason I started craving it instead of revenge.”

“Yeah, right, like I’d believe you wanted me after the way you…” I can’t even finish the sentence.

He pulls away a little, frowning. “What’re you talking about?” He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. “I wanted you, I wanted you so badly. I just couldn’t…”

“You’re all that matters to me, Rhea,” he leans to whisper in my ear, “and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that, ever again.”

My mind is buzzing.

He pulls away a little to catch my eye. “You don’t believe me.”

For a second, I just stare at him. “I do believe you,” I finally say.

He lets go of my waist and takes a little step back. “But you don’t want me,” he whispers, his eyes so sad and so wild all at once. “You want some unbroken and unscarred 20-something to have a perfect life with, is that it?”

I almost snort out a laugh, that’s how ridiculous it sounds to me.

But he doesn’t think so. “I guess I can understand that,” he says.

With that, he turns his back to me and starts walking out of my room.

It’s only then that it really hits me. Is he saying he wants me?

I rush to block his way. He freezes and we look at each other for a second, his breathing turning heavy.

I reach out my hand to touch him, but I almost immediately snatch it away. He grabs me by the wrist and says in a breathless voice, “Touch me, I want you to touch me.”

The voice, the words and the look in his eyes, it all makes me burn with desire. I break my wrist free and I lock eyes with him, my breathing ragged as I let my fingers slide under his shirt and my palm drag up his chest, slowly but hungrily.

I watch his eyes glaze over and I hear him let out a breathless grunt. Then he lifts me up and swings me around, slamming me onto my desk and pushing my legs apart.

The next thing I know, I have his tongue in my mouth, his hands all over my body and his cock pressed against me.

Gods.

I bite his lip so as not to make a sound, feeling myself get wet just anticipating him touching me down there. For a second, I freeze at the very thought of him attempting to undress me.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he fumbles to get his hand under my skirt, impatiently rips my panties off and slides two fingers in there, making a moan escape me.

And the sound is swallowed by his mouth, but he pulls away and taps one of his Runes, creating some kind of barrier along the walls of my room.

“You don’t need to do that,” I whisper, all flushed and desperate for him to devote all his energy to me, “they’re all gone.”

He pulls me closer and locks eyes with me. “You’re mine now,” he starts in a low, tense voice. “And as of this moment, these sounds are for my ears only.” He pauses, a warning in his eyes. “Understood?”

His voice drags down my skin like a tongue, making me melt and tingle all at once.

“Yes,” I finally say, my pussy responding by starting to throb.

And he moves to kiss me again, but I can’t take it anymore so I don’t let him. Instead, I grab the hem of his shirt and he helps me pull it off.

For a second, I just stare at his bare chest, my mouth watering at the mere sight of it. Then my hands and my mouth move of their own volition. I hear him suck in a sharp breath when I start running them all over his muscles and scars, the growing need for him making me clench my thighs around his hips.

He lets out a lustful grunt and grabs both my wrists, pulling them away and only dropping them to grab my shirt instead.

He moves to take it off, but I push his hands away, feeling self-conscious again.

He just looks at me for a second. Then he wraps his hands around my waist and leans to whisper in my ear, “You’re not being fair. In fact, you’re being very cruel, Rhea.”

“I guess I am,” I just say.

“You think I won’t beg?” he asks as he squeezes me tighter, his voice almost disarming me.

But the disgust at the very thought of him seeing me is still too strong.

“Don’t,” I hear myself say.

He doesn’t push it. He just kisses me again, making a wave of pleasure ripple over me.

And he keeps me pressed against him with one arm around my waist as he slides the fingers of the other one back up my pussy, making me let out a moan and grab him by the shoulders.

He starts fingering me, my nails digging into his muscles when he increases the tempo. And I want him so badly, I push him away and I unzip his pants, making him suck in a sharp breath and squeeze me tighter when I lower them and take his rock-hard cock in my hand.

The very sight of it fills me with unease.

I look up at him to find him staring at me with lust in his eyes. “I only had sex once,” I force myself to say, “and it hurt, a lot.”

His breathing ragged, he gives me a nasty little smile, pulls my hand away from his cock and says, “Oh, you’re not getting this until I make you come at least once.”

I just stare at him breathlessly. God, I want that.

I don’t have to say it. His lips curling into a smile, he gets down on his knees and puts my legs over his shoulders, grabbing my hips and making me bite my lip when I feel his head between my thighs and his tongue on my pussy.

But I don’t manage to stay quiet for long. Soon, he has me moaning, grabbing his forearms and grinding myself against his face.

I come, I come so hard, it makes my legs shake.

But it doesn’t make me any less hungry for him. As soon as he gets up, his eyes wild with lust, I jump off the desk and I walk him backwards, all the way to my bed, where I shove at his chest to make him lie down. He does, and he doesn’t take those hot, glazed eyes off me for a second as I come to straddle him.

His cock is already out and I want it inside me, but I hesitate. Until he grabs me by the ass and gives me a pleading look. I take it in my hand and I slide it inside me, making him let out a grunt. And I wince a little, but it feels so good, I can’t believe I ever thought it wouldn’t.

And the pleasure only grows stronger when I see him close his eyes and whisper, “Fuck, Rhea.”

I gulp, feeling a little shy, but I still say it. “I want you to come for me, Synn.” And I start to ride him, making him let out a moan that makes me go even faster.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters as he wraps his arms around me, burying his nose in my hair and letting me do with him as I please.

I bounce on him, getting wetter and more desperate to hear him come with every grunt he fails to swallow and every thrust of his cock deeper inside me.

When he starts slamming into me, squeezing me so tight and biting my neck so hard, it almost pushes me over the edge with him.

“Fuck, Rhea,” he growls in my ear as he comes.

More, I want more of this. And I don’t want it like this, with all my clothes on. I want to stop hiding.

So I slide his cock out of my pussy and he tries to stop me, but I push his hands away and I get up off the bed.

Eyebrows raising in confusion, his eyes follow me closely as I take a few steps back.

I come to stand close to the window and, without breaking eye contact, I wiggle my way out of my skirt. My lips tug into a smile when I see him prop himself on his elbows, his eyes hungrily dragging down my legs.

My breathing ragged, I move to unbutton my shirt. I see him gulp, his chest heaving. I do it slowly, button by button.

Too slowly, I guess. Before I’m halfway through, he kicks himself off the bed and stalks over to me, ripping the shirt and the bra off me, turning me around and walking me up to my mirror.

I close my eyes. He’s so hot and I’m so… Seeing myself naked is the last thing I need right now.

It makes my heart pound, when he takes my hands and places them on the mirror, standing so close, I feel his hard cock press against my ass.

“So hot,” he leans to whisper in my ear as his hands roam all over my body. “Oh god, you’re so fucking hot, Rhea.”

I slowly open my eyes and I don’t see myself. I see him devouring me with his eyes. They’re darting from my reflection to me in the flesh, as if he needs to take it all in at once, his jaw clenching as he strokes my breasts, a grunt escaping him when his hands close around my ass.

It all makes me go wild with desire. My spine arches, my ass pressing into his cock and making him let out a shaky breath. He wraps one hand around my waist and uses the other one to slide himself inside me.

“God, Synn,” I moan.

He locks eyes with me, grabs me by the hair and starts thrusting, gentler at first, rougher with every moan I let out.

And he keeps hungrily stroking and squeezing me as he fucks me.

And when his thrusts get so forceful, my pussy starts clenching around his cock, he presses himself closer to me, slaps my ass and bites into my shoulder. It’s so hot, it pushes me over the edge, making a wave of the strongest pleasure I’ve ever experienced come crashing down on me, growing even stronger when I hear him come with me.

For one long moment, we remain standing there, entangled and panting, with his cock still inside me. Then he plants a kiss on my shoulder, slips out and turns me around, his chest heaving and his face flushed.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me down to the floor. We kiss, deeply and passionately, his fingers in my hair and my hands around his shoulders.

It makes me melt when he pulls away a little, gives me the softest, most serious look ever and says, “Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise,” I whisper, “as long as you promise the same.”

His lips tug into a smile and I move to kiss them again.

We remain lying there, cuddling, for what turns out to be a long, long time. Because it’s almost sundown when my phone pings and I remember where I’m supposed to be.

I gently untangle myself from him, making him let out a grunt of protest, I get off the floor and I grab my discarded shirt.

“Am I being kicked out?” I hear him ask as he gets up himself.

“Feel free to stay, but I… I have to go,” I say as I put on my skirt. I feel him come stand behind me.

He takes my wrist, making me stop getting dressed and turning me around. “Come on,” he says as he throws me a pleading look. “If you stay, I’ll give you another interview.”

For a second, I just blink at him, wondering how someone so ridiculously sexy could be so hot for me. But not for long, I think to myself. He’s about to break his promise.

I break my arm free, saying, “Too late. Your story would be better as a novel anyway.”

“You should write it then.”

That makes me let out a bitter laugh. “I’m afraid that would be even less respectable than writing blog posts.”

I turn my back to him and start walking to my closet to get a shirt and panties that aren’t ripped to shreds, my own words giving me pause.

Less respectable than blog posts. They’re not my words, they’re hers.

And it comes crashing down on me, the realization that my hopes and dreams were all a lie, at least in part, and I’ve no idea what it is that I actually want out of life. But somehow, instead of dread, that fills me with strange excitement. At least until my mind goes rushing back to her.

“What’s wrong?” I hear Synn say as he comes to block my way.

What am I supposed to tell him? I’m on my way to see the woman who ruined his life?

“Rhea… You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

I shake my head. “I have to go see about my grandmother, okay?” I snap at him a little. “I’m sure that’s not something you want to be hearing about.”

“But I do,” he just says. “I want us to fix it.”

I choose to ignore him saying ‘us’. I frown at him. “You can’t be serious. This is the woman who set you up. The woman you broke out of Nasgard for, so you could kill her and get your revenge.”

To my surprise, his lips curl into a smile. “True. And sure, I’d snap her neck without a moment’s hesitation. If that was what you wanted.”

He moves closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “But she’s your only family. If you want to make peace with her instead, I’m taking your phone and I’m typing in ‘ways to get your girlfriend’s gran to like you.’”

For a second, I just blink at him. The look in his eyes… He’s being serious. And it does things to me, fireworks exploding in my chest as I lift my hands and I wrap them around his neck, grabbing his lower lip with my teeth and letting him kiss me again.

I guess the world can wait for just a little while longer.

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Or continue reading… next up is House of Lilith. A standalone romance, this time featuring a vampire FMC, a rival academy, a flirty shifter alpha, and more!

Contents

Pronunciations

1. Chapter 1 - Nyx

2. Chapter 2 - Dahrian

3. Chapter 3 - Nyx

4. Chapter 4 - Dahrian

5. Chapter 5 - Nyx

6. Chapter 6 - Dahrian

7. Chapter 7 - Nyx

8. Chapter 8 - Dahrian

9. Chapter 9 - Nyx

10. Chapter 10 - Dahrian

11. Chapter 11 - Nyx

12. Chapter 12 - Dahrian

13. Chapter 13 - Nyx

14. Chapter 14 - Dahrian

15. Chapter 15 - Nyx

16. Chapter 16 - Dahrian

17. Chapter 17 - Nyx

18. Chapter 18 - Dahrian

19. Chapter 19 - Nyx

20. Chapter 20 - Dahrian

21. Chapter 21 - Nyx

22. Chapter 22 - Dahrian

23. Chapter 23 - Nyx

24. Chapter 24 - Dahrian

25. Chapter 25 - Nyx

26. Chapter 26 - Dahrian

27. Chapter 27 - Nyx

28. Chapter 28 - Dahrian

29. Chapter 29 - Nyx

30. Chapter 30 - Dahrian

31. Chapter 31 - Nyx

32. Chapter 32 - Dahrian

33. Chapter 33 - Nyx

34. Chapter 34 - Dahrian

35. Chapter 35 - Nyx

Pronunciations

Dahrian – Just like Darian, but with a bit of a growl. You know, all shifter-like.

Ydril – ee-drill. Although don't show this to any fae – they would be appalled by my oversimplification!

Vasilisa – vas-e-lissa

Hilde – hill-deh

Fiáin – fee-awn

Archon – aar-chn

"As I approach life's end, I must reveal a tale etched in the shadows, weighing on my soul.

I was there when the Umbrage happened. I saw the might of the Obscura, a duskenwood creation for rival academies' Games. A competition where alliances crumbled, and individual brilliance faced reckoning. A spectral force that spared no mercy, yet chose not to deal in finality. Many lives were lost that day. The Obscura, a spectral overseer, bore witness, its magic navigating the chaos. As my ink wanes, I share this mosaic of mysteries—the Obscura, the Games, and the haunting echoes of a bloodbath that time can't fully obscure.

May The Word bless us all."

– ARCmage Linithus, 1867

Chapter 1 - Nyx

Ifling the door to my Grimm Academy dorm room open and stop midstep, my eyes narrowing as soon as they land on my bed. There’s the suitcase they’ve just brought up, but right next to it lies a black gift box with a luxurious gold ribbon. I frown before I feel a sudden, violent rush of excitement. Could it be the uniform?

It’s all it takes for me to slam the door closed and run over to the bed, already being swept up in the fantasy in which I’m the one who stays until the very end — preferably the only one — making my Academy the winner of the first Games in one hundred and fifty six years.

It’s only when I fail to open the box that I notice the seal on the little note sticking out from beneath the ribbon. It’s the crowned bear.

Mother.

I frown. She never sends me gifts. Despite all the servants keeping her calendars, she regularly forgets my birthday. So what’s this?

Hesitantly, I pull the note out. “It’s a big day for my little girl,” it says, in her elegant cursive.

As always, the nickname makes me want to fling myself off the nearest cliff. So I focus on the ‘big day’ part instead.

My eyebrows raise. I know it’s something I’ve been talking about ever since the preparations for the Selection last year, but for her to remember how much I’m looking forward to all this? Especially since I was one of those who barely made the cut, the weakest of all the vampires, only stronger than a few shifters and faes.

Excitement making me impatient, I let the note fall back on my bed and I focus on the box. Beautifully, richly wrapped as always. As befits a duchess whose sole focus in life is to project the image of the perfect noblewoman of House of Lilith.

When I open the box, in it, I find a lavish dress in the latest vampiric fashion. Lots of black tuile, onyx studs, a tailored waist. It’s not made to appear slutty, but it is made to accentuate every curve.

I make a face. Not exactly my kind of thing.

I take the dress out of the box, its hem falling to the carpeted floor in one graceful, flowy movement. I let my eyes drag down its length. I guess it never occurred to her that I’d have to actually walk around in this monstrosity.

Still, it’s a gift.

From my mother.

It’s only then that I notice another note that’s fallen out of the box.

“Max told me it’s your third anniversary tonight,” it says, making my excitement deflate. “So in the name of Lilith, I beg of you, Anastasya, refrain from your usual questionable fashion choices and just wear the dress I picked for you. You’ll thank me later.”

“P.S. Make sure your brother and cousin behave tonight.”

Even after I read the note, my eyes get drawn back to ‘Anastasya’. I feel myself start to fume. A million times. Haven’t I told her, a million times, to call me Nyx?

But this is Irina Nikolayevna Romanova we’re talking about.

Fighting not to lose my cool, I take the dress with me to the full-length ebony mirror by the window. I hold it up in front of myself, grimacing at the very thought of wearing it. I drag my eyes down what I was planning on wearing. Ripped black tights, forest-green cashmere sweater and a gray puffer vest. So comfy, I think with longing as I turn my eyes back onto the dress.

But the words echo in my head. “I beg of you.”

Grumbling, I take my clothes off, I put the dress on and I turn back to the mirror. It actually renders me kind of speechless, the way it makes me look. I’m still thin, but I no longer seem so angular. And normally, I’ve no tits to speak of, but this…

My mother would be very happy indeed, I think with bitterness in my internal voice. It’s all she ever wanted for me. To look pretty, as pretty as I can look, that is. To date a prince who’ll someday marry me. To be proud, just like she is, of our heritage, the holy Romanov dynasty that for three long centuries hid from the Scions that we were in fact vampires. And most of all, to focus all my attention on other people’s opinions instead of finding my purpose.

Little does she know that I already have one. That, when I become Princess, I intend to be nothing like her.

Wearing the dress she picked out for me, I let my eyes sweep over the room she insisted on decorating for me. I like that it’s all dark wood, but it’s so extravagant — the four-post bed, the closet lining an entire wall, the decorative mirrors and lamps everywhere. All wasted on me, someone who’d be happy with a futon and only cares about the desk below the window, that is, its secret drawers.

But that’s Mother, forever failing to see we’re not the same person. The night they came in the mail, the invitations to enter the Selection, we had a dinner guest who started talking about the connection between succeeding in competitions like the Games and making something of yourself on our political scene. And all I wanted was to pick his brain, while all she wanted was for me to smile and nod.

Still, it was that night that made me become truly determined to win this. I don’t know when exactly this will happen, but at some point in the near future, I’ll be the one ruling over people alongside my husband. And I’m only twenty two, but it’s never too early to start earning their respect.

That makes my lips curl into a smile and turn my focus back onto my reflection. I suspect Mother’s expecting me to put my choppy, shoulder-length raven hair into some elaborate hairstyle. So I know what I’ll do. I’ll just leave it down.

I turn to face the bed and rush to pick my boots up off the floor. As I sit on my bed, lacing them up, I can’t help but smile with excitement. Max is probably already in the Entrance Hall, waiting for me. We’ve been together for three years, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. And he always manages to bring some warmth into my day.

And he’ll be escorting me to the Opening Ceremony, I think as I finish lacing my boots up. I spring from the bed and grab my knife from the nightstand. With deft movements, I spin it around my fingers and slide it into my corset, moving to walk out of my room. Our guests’ Archon — the principal of the Academy we share a Heart Bond with, the one we’ll be hosting and competing with in the following year — she could already be here.

And right now, it seems as if my entire future is hanging in the balance, but tonight’s Grimm Academy Opening Ceremony, it’ll be like no other, in the last one hundred and fifty six years at least.

A breath of fresh air in this stale, stale life.

***

“Aren’t you breathtaking?” Max says, smiling, as he watches me get out of the Elevator and into the buzzing Entrance Hall, where he’s been waiting to take me to the Opening Ceremony.

He holds his forearm out for me, making my lips curl into a smile. He looks dashing, a little spindly but elegant, in his brand-new formal suit with black feathers on his shoulders, his silver hair slicked back in the latest fashion.

“Thank you,” I say, sweetly, as I take his arm. I give him a kiss and let him start leading me in the direction of the Dining Hall, where the Ceremony will be taking place. “But I thought you loved my usual outfits,” I poke at him.

He throws me a side glance. “You know I think they’re the height of fashion itself,” he replies with a little smirk.

I laugh and give him a little shove on the shoulder. He’s in a good mood tonight, I think as I throw him a sneaky glance. This will be fun.

Then, just as we pass the Brothers Grimm statue, he makes me stop so he can lean in and whisper, “Though, you might soon find yourself wearing dresses like that a bit more often.”

It makes my eyebrows pull down.

He lets out a little laugh, his eyes darting to my dress before he gives me a funny little look. “What, you thought this would be the only one I’d have her pick out for you?”

I roll my eyes as soon as it hits me. “And here I thought this was just Mother’s doing,” I say, pretending to scold him as I keep walking towards the archway into the Dining Hall. This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, but I don’t want to linger on that. With a smile on my face, I ask, “But what’s the occasion?”

Is it the anniversary, I think with a flutter in my stomach.

He just shrugs. “Do you always have to know everything?” he asks nonchalantly, but a little teasingly.

The butterflies in my stomach go crazy. “Of course I do,” I insist, wanting him to explain straight away, but he’s already taking me through the archway and into the Dining Hall.

It makes me forget what we were talking about and I nudge him to stop, my eyes sweeping over the enormous old hall.

I’ve never seen the place this packed and I’ve never heard a murmur this feverish. The long rows of carved-wood tables stretching from the entrance all the way to the podium with the professors’ table, you practically can’t see them from all the students and all the food already laid out before them. And the elaborate chandeliers hanging from intricately vaulted ceilings are casting a soft light onto all the richly woven tapestries, stained-glass window panes, checkered floor tiles… All green and gold, the colors of our Academy.

Tonight, it all seems to glow with a special light. But what excites me most is the flag I see hanging off the wall opposite me, above the professors’ table.

“Impatient?” I hear Max ask.

And I turn to look at him, smiling from ear to ear. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

He lets out a laugh, wraps his arm around my waist and nudges me to keep moving. I know he likes showing me off, and I can’t say I object too much. As we walk to the front, where they’ve laid out five special little round tables for our own notable families to the left and ten for our guests to the right, I sense Max basking in the kind of sycophant stares and smiles only a Prince could attract. I don’t quite enjoy the attention like he does, the stares, the fakeness of it all. But he says I’ll get used to it. I hope so.

Once we reach the front, we first do a round of greeting the royals sitting at the other four tables, but we don’t linger. Everyone seems to be too excited to engage in small talk.

So we walk over to our table, Max pulling a chair out for me. I give him a warm smile and I take my seat, lifting the hem of my dress off the polished tiles.

It’s just as Max settles in that I spot Nikolay and Hilde approaching. They’re chatting as they’re walking, my brother gesturing as excitedly as usual. He looks carelessly handsome in his dark suit with a white cravat, his unruly, wavy dark hair and usual stubble balancing the posh out. And Hilde’s once again squeezed her plump body into a dress that’s a size too small, which I simply don’t get. As if she’s ashamed of her curves. Still, her rich red hair she’s put up into an elaborate hairstyle, giving her whole outfit a more regal look.

Even after they stroll over to our table, my brother and cousin don’t sit right away. Hilde throws us both a wide smile.

“Hi Max, hi Nyx,” she says sweetly, her eyes lingering on mine for a second.

I tip my head at her, my attention getting drawn to my brother craning his neck, seemingly inspecting the flag above the still empty professor’s table.

Where last year and all the ones before there was only the Grimm Academy crest, a shield in an ornate gold frame featuring the sigils of all three bloodlines, now there are two of them. The other one shows the sigil of just the shifter bloodline, a full moon divided in half, one side light and one dark. Together with the couple of stars at its top, it represents our guests’ Academy.

“Is that theirs, Max?” Nikolay asks as he turns to my boyfriend.

“No, it’s the cleaners’,” Max replies with a warm yet condescending smile. “Just last night, they started their own Academy.” He turns to throw me a smug glance, but I just look away, rolling my eyes at the two of them. I don’t like the way he sometimes talks down to people, but that’s the price you pay for picking someone so full of confidence.

For a second, there’s silence. Then Nikolay lets out a rough bark-like laugh. “Oh, you crack me up, you old fool.” And he finally takes his seat, cousin Hilde immediately following suit.

“Isn’t this cool?” she asks. You can feel the need for approval in every sound she ever produces. “All thanks to you, Max.”

He throws her a lazy smile.

“Yes yes,” my brother cuts in, lit up as he grabs a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, “the spot is amazing, the best in the whole bloody Hall.”

I frown, turning to Max, expecting him to correct her. But he doesn’t acknowledge it, that we Romanovs would be at this table even if he weren’t.

“But what I really want to talk about is, like,” my brother goes on excitedly, now sliding his forearms down the table so he can get closer as he searches for the right words. I squint at him. When he finds them, he says them in a hushed voice. “What to expect.”

And he glances around the table as if he’s just come to us with something so intriguing yet impossible to even try answering.

I throw him an incredulous look. “You’re talking as if they’re from another planet,” I snap.

“Well, maybe they are,” he drawls like he does when he’s getting ready to try to rip me a new one. I fold my arms in anticipation. “Remind me,” he asks mockingly, “what was the name of the one you made up back when no one wanted to hang out with Your Sulkiness?”

I hear Max let out a chuckle. And I still feel my own nagging impatience to be given a glimpse into a world that’s not ours, but I just stare at my brother for a second. “They’re shifters,” I say flatly. “We have shifters here. What exactly is it that’s confusing you, oh brother darling?”

“I used to hang with the wolves here, Nick,” Hilde cuts in, her use of the word ‘hang’ making me wince a little. “I’m sure their shifters are a lot like them.”

“Really?” I hear Max say mockingly. “You hung with the wolves?”

Nikolay lets out another chuckle and Hilde’s pale skin goes beetroot red in an instant, but Max just goes on. “So in your vast and thorough experience, the fact our shifters and their shifters come from very different places means absolutely nothing? And history proves that?”

Still blushing, Hilde stutters, “Well, no—”

Nikolay barks out a laugh, mockingly echoing her with his own, “Well, no—”

I kick him in the shin under the table. “Hey,” he yells out, throwing me a frown.

Innocently, I mouth ‘What?’

“What I meant to say,” Hilde cuts in, demanding attention. When I turn to her, she seems to have collected herself. “In some ways, our shifters and their shifters are probably the same. We’ll just have to see what the differences are.”

And with that, she gives a content nod.

Now, that’s what I really hate about my cousin. How quickly she’ll change the tune at the first sign of someone disagreeing with her.

Max rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, but despite a brave face, I catch a hurt look in Hilde’s eyes.

It makes a pang of regret shoot through me. She always has a kind word for every single one of us, and all we ever do is give her trouble. I let out a sigh and I look around the table until I spot Jacquard’s blood gin among all the bottles. I grab it and I lean across to shove it into my cousin’s hands.

“Here, Hilde,” I say, fighting not to sound cold as I ease back into my chair. “Didn’t you say that’s your favorite?”

She throws me an appreciative smile, but it’s at that exact moment that the gong sounds and all eyes dart to the front of the Hall.

There, a procession of professors starts coming out of a hidden door to the left of their table. I see Uncle Ludwig among them, but it’s only when I spot our Pied Piper walking with a woman I’ve never seen before that I feel another pang of excitement.

It’s clear that all eyes in the room are on her. And she can be no other than the Fiáin Academy Archon, the famed Cerys Brogan. As the Pied Piper leads her to the center of the professors’ table, I watch her strong yet soft gaze sweep over the room, her wavy gray hair falling to a simple yet festive robe.

The Pied Piper stops in front of her own wood-and-bone high chair and motions for the guest to take a seat to her right. Brogan gives her a smile and lowers herself into the chair. It’s only when she does, that the Pied Piper turns to the crowd.

Johanna de Groot. I’ve never once managed to even look at her without this thrill spreading through me. And it’s not because she’s a ridiculously tall woman in a black robe, with a raven braid, piercing black eyes and a jawline that looks as if it could cut through anything. No. It’s her position, a truly high one, coupled with the way she holds herself, as uncompromisingly and authoritatively as any man I’ve seen. A rare jewel in the vampire community.

“Greetings, everyone,” she starts in her bored drawl. “Now, as you all know, I’m all for the briefest of toasts…”

I hear chuckles all around me. The Pied Piper smiles, but she just keeps going. “But tonight… Tonight we have our brothers and sisters to greet, the ones our Academy shares the Heart Bond with. And they’ve agreed to revive a tradition of old. The joining of our two academic families for an entire year, a year of strengthening our magic through cooperation and a bit of healthy competition.”

Someone lets out a wolf whistle and everyone laughs. Even my lips tug into a smile.

“Of course,” the Pied Piper continues, making everyone fall silent again, “we all know what history our two Academies share.” There’s nervous shifting before she says, “But let’s not allow what happened a hundred and fifty six years ago to taint the future.” She motions at the tables opposite the one we’re sitting in, the only ones that are left empty. “This year, we’ll be hosting a hundred students from the Fiáin Academy and we need to make them feel as welcome here as if none of that ever happened.”

To my surprise, she looks to our table. “I’m counting on you, the royal Aalders and Romanov families, the ones that were here the last time we did this, to help ease the transition.”

I see Max puff his chest out and nod.

“Now,” the Pied Piper says with a sharp nod and raises her voice so it echoes through the enormous Hall, “let’s give the honor to Professor Schwarz of Grimm Academy, our Guardian of the Obscura.”

The room breaks out into clapping and cheering as Uncle Ludwig gets out of his seat and comes to stand in front of the professors’ table, clad in a gold-stitched green robe with the Guardian’s pendant around his neck. There’s excited murmuring as he takes the Box out of some hidden pocket.

I zoom in to see better. I’ve never laid eyes on it before, the weird little contraption that the Brothers Grimm had Dame Gothel make to bring our two Academies closer together. The box that started it all. The Obscura. It actually looks quite plain, just a rectangular wooden item with some carvings on it.

“To think Nyx and I used to spend hours trying to talk Uncle into showing us that,” I hear my brother say to Hilde.

He lets out a chuckle, but I don’t even look at him. I keep my eyes fixed on the box. I’m eager to see, for the first time ever, the first of the three figurines hiding inside — Door, Hourglass and Judge, each serving its own purpose. Door for getting the students of the other Academy to the one where the Games are held. Hourglass for using magic to devise and execute each of the five Games.

And then there’s Judge, but that one’s a bit more complicated. It’s never been used before and no one really knows what it does, the Guardian of the Obscura keeping the purpose secret.

I see both Brogan and our Pied Piper getting up and coming to stand closer to the Box, shaking their hands and making it start glowing. It’s something everyone knows, that the Box requires at least one member from both Academies to be activated.

The two principals go back to their seats, Uncle Ludwig takes a step back, opens the Box and puts his hand inside.

Then he pauses, the silence in the room palpable, before he pulls out a small stone door and throws it in the air.

I hold my breath.

The very next second, the figurine turns into an enormous wooden door that comes to hover right above the floor.

There are excited gasps all around me, but I guess we won’t be lingering on this as some special moment, because the door almost instantly flings open and I see shapes starting to come through. Human shapes.

I watch a hundred Fiáin shifters step out and form a circle. And they’re as different from each other as they can be, but they’re all dressed a lot more casually than we are and they all have tribal tattoos. There’s silence as they join hands, almost instantly making the tattoos start to glow. The air in the circle starts spinning and the very next second, I see countless animals leaping and flying out of it, wolves hitting the ground running, ravens soaring high up above and bears lifting themselves on their hind legs to roar at us all.

There’s an excited murmur all around me as I crane my neck to watch one of the wolves keep running up a wall, doing a flip in the air and then charging straight back into the circle, where he gets swallowed by the whirlwind like the rest of the animals.

By the time the shifters let go of each other’s hands, turn to us and bow, there’s only a scattered applause, even though I can tell everyone is in awe.

But even as they walk to the tables reserved for them, the door doesn’t close.

What are we waiting for, I wonder with a flutter in my stomach.

The very next second, I see the tallest guy yet stroll out of the mirror and come to a stop, sliding his hands into his pockets.

And sure, he’s unusually hot, but he’s dressed very simply — T-shirt, jeans and boots. Even simpler than the rest of them. So it surprises me when the shifters all break out into thunderous clapping and whistling.

Maybe the clue is in the tattoos, I think as my eyes dart to the ones covering his arms.

I sense Max tense up, but even though I’m aware of the risk, I don’t look away from the Fiáin.

I watch him throw the cheering shifters this lazy grin. It almost makes me blow out a laugh, when he proceeds to counting them, looking all relaxed yet solemn as he does it, seemingly giving zero fucks about hundreds of students and professors waiting for him to be done with it.

Ah, I think to myself, he must be the alpha.

I zoom in on him a little. He’s definitely not what I’d expect. He is all muscle, like most alphas I’ve seen, but he’s elegant somehow. Elegant and careless at the same time, I think as I spot the light stubble and the way he keeps the straight, light brown hair that’s falling to his shoulders swept off his face.

It’s just at that moment that he finishes counting, gives a content nod and slides his hand back into his pocket. And he turns to scan the general crowd before him with an easy smile on his face, before he does a little bow and walks away.

It earns the greatest applause, the women in the crowd letting out wolf whistles.

I lean a little to the side to watch him take his seat, interested in seeing what kind of shifter he is. Here, it’s mostly wolves, but no. Not him.

“Not in the least impressive,” I hear my brother say, making me snap out of it. “You’d all have a lot more fun watching me use Mind Magic on all of them.”

“Thank gods it’s not allowed,” I say with a roll of my eyes. I really hate it when he’s showing off like this.

“I wish it were,” I hear Max say even as the Pied Piper gets up again to greet the newcomers and talk about the ensuing year of competitions between the two Academies. “Because this really was anticlimactic.”

“I thought it was a breath of fresh air,” I reply as I look around the table. “Someone giving zero fucks about all the pomp. And, well,” I say with a smile, motioning at the room, “at least the girls seem to have liked his performance.”

As soon as I say it, I realize I shouldn’t have. Max’s forehead scrunches up as he notices the giggles and the stares, including Hilde’s, in the direction of the alpha. “Maybe they were laughing at his clothes,” he snaps a little.

I let out a laugh, maybe a bit too loud, but he smirks and seems contented. Disaster averted.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” my brother chimes in as he throws Hilde and I a smile. “You’re all so obsessed with it.”

I roll my eyes, refusing to get into it, but now he’s frowning, turning to look at the shifters again. “But they are all dressed like they’ve just crawled out of the forest.”

I throw daggers at him. “Didn’t you apply to become a sort-of buddy for one of them?”

He makes a face at me, but Max doesn’t let him answer. “Doesn’t matter,” he cuts in, a little coldly, making me squint at him. “The only thing that does is the Games. And we’ll wipe the floor with their asses.”

I love this version of him — strong, smart, determined. “As long as we have you on our team,” I finally say, giving him a soft smile.

And I don’t even finish the sentence, but I can tell it did the job. He returns the smile and leans in for a kiss, then turns to my brother, the two of them jumping into a heated discussion on how exactly they’re going to kick those asses.

I know Max is strong and capable, but they’re just assuming we’re going to win. Not even questioning it. Me? I can’t help but notice the stark contrast between our two groups. Sure, it’s plain to see by the clothes which Academy is higher status, but there’s a toughness in the shifters’ demeanors that makes my fellow Grimm Academy colleagues seem so soft and sheltered all of a sudden. And that makes me a bit apprehensive about everything.

Including the party that’s supposed to happen right after dinner.

***

I inhale deeply, trying to enjoy the balmy night air, but the tension in it is just too palpable. Resting my head on my closed fist with my elbow propped up on the high table, I twirl the stem of my champagne flute in my fingers. I don’t listen to Max, Nikolay and Hilde’s conversation. My eyes are sweeping over the crowd gathered for our garden party, trying to figure out why it doesn’t feel like one.

The huge cobblestone ring around the Dame Gothel statue, which is at the very center of the castle grounds, has been scoured and the normally empty space strewn with countless tables like ours. The three towers, Lycan Tower with the forest looming behind, Ydril with the Sobbing Lake shimmering below and Lilith with the Graf Hill perched above, they’re barely more than silhouettes against the night sky, but there are strings of lights running from their tops all the way to the statue. And there’s music coming from enchanted instruments all around us.

But the usual merry chatter is missing, people are sipping their drinks with bored looks on their faces, and it only takes a single glance to see that Grimms are steering clear of Fiáins and vice versa.

The only one who seems to be having fun is that alpha, indiscriminately going from table to table with a grin on his face.

I throw a glance around my own table. The three of them don’t seem to either notice or care that the party’s not going too well. Hilde is scrolling on her phone while Max and Nikolay are arguing, albeit in low voices, about something having to do with the vampire King.

This was supposed to be fun, and Max hasn’t even tried to involve me in the conversation. I can already see all my excitement slowly fizzling out.

I know I should know better, but I decide to interrupt the conversation. I grab Max’s hand. He looks at me with a puzzled face. I lean in, like it’s a conspiracy.

“Why do they all seem to have an identical fox tattoo?” I ask, as I motion at the upper arm of one of the Fiáin girls walking by.

They all turn to look in the girl’s direction.

Nikolay lets out a wolf whistle and says, “I know why it is.”

I frown, but I do find myself intrigued.

He turns to me with a huge grin on his face. “It’s because all their women are so foxy.”

Hilde chuckles. I myself let out an exasperated sigh and turn to Max. “We’ve just seen some of them shift,” I say, “and they’re definitely not all foxes.” I want to draw out Max’s playful side, the one I love arguing with. But he stays silent.

“Does it really matter?” Nikolay drawls.

“What do you even mean?” I ask as I turn back to him. “Isn’t part of the point of all this for us to get to know each other?”

“I agree with Nikolay,” Max cuts in, all serious. “It’s completely irrelevant. They lost the last time we did this and that’s exactly what’s going to happen this time.”

Finally, I have his attention. I shake my head. “But they didn’t lose, did they?” I say, giving him an excited smile. “The Games never got to be finished that year. But up to the point when the Umbrage happened, they were winning, by a landslide, making everyone at our Academy butthurt.”

I look at him with smiling eyes, but he just rolls his. He knows how it annoys me when he does that. But I decide to let it go. I still want my fun night out. So I smile and wait for him to start talking.

“You’ve got your facts wrong,” he says. “They knew they were going to lose so they rigged the Games. It’s just that they weren’t as smart as they thought they were and we caught them red-handed. They were as pathetic and dishonorable as an Academy can possibly be.”

Pathetic? He can be so infuriating sometimes. I know where this is going, but I can’t seem to keep quiet. “And our Academy’s response wasn’t dishonorable?” I throw back.

“That’s just something they made up.”

“So what you’re saying,” I drawl, “is that they nearly destroyed their own Academy just to make it seem like we’re the bad guys.”

“Exactly.”

Now, that makes me let out a scoff. “So on one side, we have your conspiracy theories and on the other, my highly reputable sources, but it’s me who’s got her facts wrong?”

He rolls his eyes. But I don’t get a chance to react.

“Come on, Nyx,” I hear my brother protest and I turn to look at him. “Can’t you leave fighting for some other time? We were having fun here.”

“There’s a difference between a fight and a discussion, Nikolay,” I say flatly, but I immediately look away, all of a sudden feeling like I really am ruining their fun. I’m the one that’s all worked up. Max just shrugs his shoulders and smiles.

As for Nikolay, I know he’ll just keep talking to Max as if nothing happened.

He does.

They jump back into their conversation, speaking in hushed voices so as to make it clear they won’t be sharing anything with the two of us. For a second, I lock eyes with Hilde and it seems as if she’s going to say something, but she changes her mind and we just end up exchanging an awkward look.

That’s what life is like — you can’t always have your fun. I turn away from them all and go back to observing the party.

And there’s that alpha chatting up a table with Countess Koenig’s many daughters. But now, there’s also a group of people from both Academies standing below the Dame Gothel statue, most of them nodding away as they listen to one of ours explaining something, gesturing at the towers around us.

For a second, I smile. Then I see how uptight and condescending the guy is being, which makes me realize our guests are only nodding away in an attempt to be polite.

But maybe, just maybe, if I take matters into my own hands, we could actually respect the Pied Piper’s wishes and make this a lot more fun for everyone.

“Why don’t we play a game?” I say as I turn back to my little party, interrupting Max and Nikolay just as they’re done shaking on something.

“Oh,” Hilde jumps in, her eyes sparkling, “we could play Thieves and Bloodhounds.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. “I meant something all of us here at the party could enjoy. Shadowscape, for example. Everyone knows Shadowscape.”

Max raises his eyebrows at me. “Aren’t you having fun, cupcake?” he asks with a smile.

I ignore the question so as not to have to lie. There are more important things at stake here. “I don’t think anyone else is.”

Nikolay shrugs. “I don’t see what that’s got to do with us.”

I frown, taken aback by his attitude. But I choose to ignore him. I turn to Max instead, meaning to remind him he’s been asked to keep the peace, but I don’t get the chance.

He’s already coming to wrap his arms around my waist, saying to Nikolay, “I think I know what’s going on.”

It makes me smile with relief.

But then he continues, glancing from my brother to me and Hilde, “The girls are in need of a little attention.”

And my eyebrows are pulling down as he leans to give me a kiss, but it’s at the very next moment that there's a clinking of metal against glass coming from the Dame Gothel statue.

Max lets go of me, my head snaps to my right and I hear everyone go silent, but my eyes are already fixed on the alpha standing on top of the three stairs leading up to the statue. He has his glass in his hand and a huge grin on his face. “If I could have everyone’s attention, please.”

I turn a little to the side, interested to see what this is going to be.

“Now,” he says with a smile, his deep yet resonant voice commanding the entire garden, “I know you’re worried I’ll be boring you with a long-winded speech of some kind, but believe me, of all of you, I’m the one most easily bored.”

I smile, hearing laughter coming from all around me.

“I’ll just say how thrilled we are to get the opportunity to spend an entire year with you all. Now, in my case, that’s mostly because I’m counting on you to teach my brothers and sisters some basic manners.”

Another burst of laughter as a few of his own give him a playful shove on the shoulder.

“But until then,” he starts, making everyone go silent again.

He motions at one of his pack and the guy holds a ball out for him. “This,” he tells the crowd in front of him as he lifts it above his head, “is the first Shifter Ball Gallagher ever caught. Signed and everything.”

I myself have never been interested in the sport, but the murmur from the crowd tells me this is a big deal.

“And it’s our gift to you,” the alpha says with another grin.

And the next thing I know, he’s flinging the ball into the air and all hell is breaking loose, a bunch of students rushing to catch it while the others start mingling feverishly, most of them getting drawn to the alpha and his circle.

I zoom in on him again, finding him grinning at a Grimm saying something to him, the smile lighting up his gray eyes and revealing a set of perfect teeth. And I can’t help but notice the full lips and the strong jawline balanced out by the elegant, Roman features of his face.

“I think you can relax now, Nyx,” Hilde says and I turn to look at her. She’s giggling as she keeps throwing glances at the alpha. “He seems to have fixed it.”

I hear Max let out a scoff. “As if we couldn’t have done the same.” And my eyes snap to him and I see that his face is tense with hurt pride.

I know better than to ask “Why didn’t you then?”

But for a second, my eyes stay fixed on the alpha. And they narrow in irritation.

I scoff and I turn back to my table, grabbing Max’s hand and leaning in for a deep kiss. It’s my anniversary, and I won’t let anything ruin our night.

***

Now they want to play a game. Now that it wasn’t me who suggested it. But I have a really good buzz going on and I’ve always loved Shadowscape. Max had sent for my favorite drink, and it reignited the butterflies in my stomach. Sometimes he can be so attentive, I can’t help but feel special. Seen.

Max and Nikolay still being hush about something, they get up and start leading me and Hilde to the playing tables they’d set up to the right of the Dame Gothel statue.

“So,” Hilde starts, her face flushed and her words slurred, as I watch drunk, giddy students take their seats, “I hear it’s yours and Max’s third anniversary today.”

My eyebrows pulling down, I throw her a side glance. Being of the Schwarz line of the family, Hilde has spent most of her life across the country, rarely visiting and only last year arriving to study with us at Grimm Academy. She wasn’t here when Max and I first started dating.

“It is,” I tell her.

She looks positively giddy as she asks, throwing me a knowing little look, “Anything special planned to celebrate?”

I ignore the look. “I don’t really like celebrating those kinds of things,” I say, although it’s not the complete truth. But it will do for Hilde.

She stays silent for a second. “Of course,” she says, as if she’s just realized something. And she lets out this annoying little chuckle. “You’ve probably already done it, haven’t you?”

It’s only then that I realize she’s talking about the kiss. And it instantly makes blood rush to my cheeks. Doesn’t she realize that’s more intimate than talking about sex? But I guess she’s too drunk to care.

“I’d tell you all about it, but look, Hilde,” I tell her, trying to distract her by motioning at a vampire girl and a shifter guy sitting at the table closest to us, preparing their board, “our first players.”

“Sure sure. Will you be my partner?” she asks with giddiness in her voice.

“Why not,” I say. I seem to remember she’s not very good, but I’d pick her playing Shadowscape over her sniffing around my sex life any day of the year.

I choose our table wisely. As Nikolay and Max keep walking to the one at the center, I lead Hilde straight to the one to the far left. If I lose, I’ll just retreat into the audience, but if I win, I won’t have to switch seats to play with the winner closest to me.

I’m excited so I don’t waste time. I throw myself into one of the chairs, finishing putting all the pieces back in their places before Hilde’s even managed to settle in. I hear someone say that they’ll be bringing out the magic board for the finalists to play on.

Now that makes my excitement turn into a cutting resolve to win. It was when Nikolay came home for his first winter break that I first heard about the Grimm Academy Shadowscape board, and I’ve wanted to play on it ever since. I just thought I’d never get the chance. Magic items are rare and even more rarely used, simply because it takes a powerful magic wielder to burn the spell into an inanimate object and keep it active. And it never stays active forever.

I let my eyes sweep over the crowd, my opponents, that is. I see that Max and Nikolay have already started and that their table even has a couple of spectators.

My own partner is excruciatingly slow and a couple of moves into the game, I start doubting she even understands the game. But it doesn’t matter. I’m still having fun, enjoying the way everyone around me is totally immersed, cursing their opponents whenever they manage to take one of their strongholds and shouting in excitement whenever their strategy works and they get their hands on a particularly good piece of land, all represented by neat squares on the board.

So as not to make her feel bad, I take my sweet, sweet time beating my cousin. But once I do, I still have to spell it out to her that she lost. She chuckles, drunker than I’ve ever seen her and goes to find the bathroom.

I throw a glance at Max and Nikolay and see that there’s a whole crowd around their table. Nikolay seems to be winning.

I myself move on to a fae-blooded guy who looks so sure of himself, it gives me much greater pleasure to wipe the floor with his ass.

Then a shifter from our Academy and then one from theirs.

It’s only when I’m done with him that Max and Nikolay finish their own game. Max strolls over, gloating under the watchful eyes of the audience he’s built.

“Would you do me the honor?” he asks as he takes a seat at my table. He’s in a good mood, thank gods. This will be fun. His admirers just arrange themselves in a neat circle around us. “I’ve just beat your brother and I’m ready to take on another Romanov.”

“Not all Romanovs are made the same,” I tell him with a smirk.

He throws his head back, laughing. It’s my favorite version of him, a little tipsy and playfully competitive. It gets me excited, the prospect of showing him what I’ve got.

One of his admirers appears to his right and pulls a box from behind his back. The board, I think as tingles of excitement rush down my spine. I hear everyone draw in excited breaths. I myself I’m like a hawk as I watch the guy grab the lame board and switch it out for the magic one.

As soon as it’s lowered onto the table, the box produces a soft clicking sound and its four sides drop away. Now it’s a chequerboard with figurines rising out of its surface, the Tower, the Ship, the King.

I feel a tingle as I watch Max make his first move, tapping his finger on it to pick his starting stronghold, the chosen Tower floating up, spinning in the air for a second and then slamming itself back into the ground with a crumbling sound, its top growing a flag.

Ah, I think to myself as I survey the board. The Belyaev’s opening.

I look up to throw my boyfriend a smile as I make my own move. He and I don’t play as much as we used to, but I know he’s still got it. And that only makes the whole thing more fun.

Especially when I see what a good mood he’s in. He keeps trying to distract me and every time he succeeds, he yells out, “Come on, Romanov, be serious, for fuck’s sake.”

It doesn’t fail to make me laugh once.

Still, I don’t let it truly distract me. I only manage to occupy some of the territory on the board — the tundra of my family’s native land and the sweeping desert of the South Shifter Kingdoms.

But then, then I take my Queen and I slam it right next to his last stronghold. There’s a reaction from the audience, but I don’t care. I look up to my boyfriend, smirking, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he sees what I did.

He lets out a laugh, a bit tenser than before, he thinks for one long moment and then he slides his King over to my capital.

There’s a murmur all around me. My eyebrows shoot up. Then they pull down and stay down as my eyes fix on the board. Wrong move. Even though it looks like he’s in a winning position, I know better. He’s opened himself up to the Karachev’s swoop. A few moves, and it’s game over for him. No escape.

Smiling and clicking my tongue, I lift my hand to grab my Queen and start the attack on his Tower. He’ll have to move it straight away, since it’ll take him more moves to get out of his predicament than it’ll take me to get out of mine.

Smiling, I look up from the board. My hand never reaches my Queen. He catches my eye and there’s no smile in his eyes anymore. He stares at me intently, smiling but almost imperceptibly gritting his teeth.

It leaves me confused for a second. Is he mad?

I hear Nikolay join our audience and that makes me aware of all the people around us. Max still piercing holes in my eyes, I pause for another second and look down at the board. You just love humiliating me, he’ll say. And he does have a reputation to uphold. I know it by now. I grab my Knight instead of my Queen. And I move it to try and fail to defend my capital instead of try and succeed attacking his stronghold.

“Bad move, Romanov,” Max says, his mouth cracking into a smile as if nothing happened. The warmth is back in his eyes. I smile a reluctant smile. Disaster averted. And with much self-satisfied ceremony, he lifts his King off the board and slides it next to my capital.

The King takes out his sword and cuts my city in half.

There’s a moment of silence after the tiny rocks come crumbling to the board.

Then the crowd cheers.

“Not all Romanovs are made the same, you say?” Max asks with a smile.

“I guess I was wrong,” I force myself to say.

The crowd laughs, including my brother.

“Don’t worry, I love you all the same, cupcake,” Max says and holds out his hand to me.

I throw a forced smile at him and let him take me into a hug, but the smile slides off my face as soon as I see who’s standing behind my brother.

That fucking alpha, squinting at me with his head tilted to the side, as if he could tell exactly what happened.

Blood rushing to my cheeks, I look away, but my embarrassment doesn’t subside even after I catch him leave with the corner of my eye. No, it’s just my imagination. No one could tell.

I get up and come to nestle myself in Max’s embrace, letting all my embarrassment melt away. I step away and look into his warm eyes, and all I want to do is ask him to take me to my room, but before I can say anything, the clock strikes midnight and the expression on my boyfriend’s face changes.

He throws me a warm, mysterious smile as he steps a few feet away and glances over my shoulder.

I frown as I hear movement all around us. And footsteps, a lot of them, as if an entire procession is approaching our table.

What the…

When I look over my shoulder, I see that there is one. Exactly thirty six people in formal wear, all holding gorgeous black rose bouquets in their hands and heading straight towards me.

I get up off my seat, a thrill rushing down my spine. Is he actually going to do it? Now? As the crowd around us breaks out into an excited murmur, I look at Max, who’s still wearing that mysterious smile on his lips, and then back at the people. They form a half-circle around me.

“One for every month you’ve made my life brighter, cupcake.” I feel him hug me from behind and hear him whisper in my ear as my heart starts pounding in my ears.

He twirls me around, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy. I watch him pull away and get down on one knee. Fireworks explode inside me, leaving me tingling but tongue-tied.

He’s actually going to do it. Tonight will be the night we become engaged.

“Will you do me the honor,” he starts as he takes a little ring box out of his waistcoat pocket, “of becoming the next Princess of Aalstein?”

And he opens the box, revealing an elaborate aged-silver ring with a giant ruby at the center. I hear excited squeals all around me and I almost fail to stop myself from letting one out as well.

“Yes,” I say, my voice a little shaky with emotion as I start nodding vigorously, “yes, I will.”

Someone lets out a wolf whistle and Max jumps to his feet, his smile beaming as he looks around the cheering crowd and then puts the heavy ring on my finger. “I knew you’d say yes,” he tells me when he turns to give me a kiss.

I kiss him back, passionately, my heart starting to pound all over again.

It doesn’t stop even when Max pulls away, and I watch him turn to my brother and shake hands with him, both glowing with satisfaction.

And I want to join them, but I’m already getting swallowed by the host of people with Hilde at the front, all eager to get a better look at my ring and get on good terms with the next Princess.

And I’m smiling, still in shock and shaken up with the thrill of the start of an entirely new era in my life. But thrown into the mix, there’s something that makes me feel strangely suspended in the moment. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

Chapter 2 - Dahrian

Whistling, I turn the elaborate tap off and make my way out of the overly lavish bathroom on Ground Floor. It’s good, I tell myself as I start strolling down the hallway through which I came and back to the party. And it’ll be even better once they actually get to know us.

Who would’ve thought, boy, my fox’s deep, ethereal voice booms inside my head, that you’d let yourself be this delusional.

As always, he sounds playful and a little sinister at the very same time. I let out a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did manage to get the party going, and not thanks to your bitching and moaning.”

Can’t you see how pompous those tiny little pricks are?

I shrug my shoulders. “You think everyone’s pompous. Keep the peace and stay until the end, that’s what Brogan told me. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Suit yourself, he drawls, his tone filled to the brim with disgust and exasperation. But don’t come crying to me when it ultimately fails, your desperate little attempt to earn everyone’s respect.

I roll my eyes at him, but that’s all I give him before I feel him retreat back into his corners of my mind. Excited to finally get my buzz on, I keep whistling as I walk down the hallway, the Entrance Hall slowly growing larger at its end.

Until my fox lets out a low growl, I feel a tug behind my navel and the world spins around me. I have to fight to stay on my feet, but as quickly as it starts spinning, the hallway comes to a halt and everything settles down, as if nothing ever happened.

I squint, my muscles tense and ready to move. Instead of the Entrance Hall, I have the door to the bathroom in front of me once again.

What the…

I turn on my heel and see that that’s where I’m supposed to go. Not without hesitation, I start walking.

Everything seems normal, the soft red carpet not making a sound under my boots, the paintings on the walls looking at me with unmoving eyes.

It’s only when I almost reach the end of the hallway that it happens again. The hallway spins and I’m back to looking at the bathroom door.

For a second, I just stand there, calculating as my fox sniffs hungrily.

Whatever type of magic this is, he concludes, it’s nothing menacing.

I let out a soft laugh, shake my head a little and click my tongue. With a renewed spring in my step, I start walking again.

And just as I almost reach the end of the hallway, it starts spinning again.

But I’m ready.

I break into a sprint, kick myself off the ground, do a flip in the air and roll straight into the Entrance Hall, landing on one knee and my palms pressed firmly to the floor.

Well, my fox drawls, at least that was mildly interesting. And with that, he slinks back into the shadows.

It’s with a huge grin on my face that I spring up and dart into the Elevator to get out of the castle and back into the courtyard.

I let my eyes sweep over my surroundings, checking on the state of the party. Right now, the famed three towers are only mysterious silhouettes against the cloudless night sky, all the light and action concentrating in the cobblestone circle around the Dame Gothel statue. And there’s still that light music playing in the background, but there’s no more tense silence permeating the air. People seem to be mingling around the many festive high tables, tossing shots back as they exchange stories. I pick up the pace, scanning the crowd for Ricky, eager to tell him all about my Grimm Academy adventures.

I have to elbow my way through the crowd as I look for him.

At one point, this vampire guy barges out of one tightly knit group, a wide smile on his face. He almost knocks into me and I recognize the man Ricky told me is the prince in these parts.

“I just got engaged,” he tells me as soon as our eyes lock, still smiling.

“Really?” I ask, my mouth cracking into a grin. “Congrats, mate,” I say, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says and keeps moving.

It’s at that moment that I finally spot my friend.

He’s already rushing to me.

“Where were you?” he asks as soon as he stops in front of me, all flustered with worry. “I was just about to send the O’Malley brothers to go sniff you out.”

I laugh, patting him on the back.

But I’ve no time to tell him exactly how useless the brothers would be considering how many whiskeys they’ve had.

Ricky’s eyes dart to a spot behind my back and I look over my shoulder to find a stunning vampire girl giving me doe eyes. Another one, I think as I turn to her, my lips curling into a soft smile.

“Hi,” she says with an awkward wave, obviously fighting not to look away.

“Well hello,” I say in my gentlest, most encouraging voice as I take a step closer, sliding my hands into my pockets. I can sense Ricky’s roll-eye without even having to look at him. “The name’s Dahrian. What’s yours, gorgeous?”

“Marie,” she blurts out and I see the skin on her chest flush a little. Then she presses her arms to her sides and bites the bullet. “There’s going to be a bonfire later in the Lycan Forest. I thought you might want to go.”

Adorable. “With you?” I ask, playfully tilting my head as I drag my eyes down her body. “Try and stop me.”

Now, that makes blood rush to her cheeks.

“Perfect,” she stutters as she gestures to a group of vampires chatting by the Dame Gothel statue. “My friends are right over there.” She turns her eyes back on me. “And I’d really love to introduce you. Dahrian.” It’s more of a shy whisper, my name on her lips.

Fuck. I click my tongue, taking her by the upper arm and leading her a few steps away from Ricky.

“I’d hate to disappoint you, Marie…” I look deep into her eyes, watching her eyebrows pull down. “So I’m just gonna be upfront. I like to keep things casual, if you know what I mean.”

The disappointment in her eyes is my answer.

I lean to whisper in her ear, “But if you ever find yourself in need of someone who will worship the fuck out of you, albeit for one night only, you know where to find me.”

When I pull away, she’s staring at me intently, biting her lower lip. Her cheeks flush, she throws me a shy smile, gives a quick nod and rushes back into the crowd.

The crowd… My fox’s fur pricks up, keeping my eyes fixed on it. For a second, I think I feel tension emanating from one of my own, just out of eyesight.

“What is it, Boss?” I hear Ricky ask and I snap out of it, turning to face him.

He hands me a glass filled to the brim. Feeling my fox settle down again, I take it, thirstily downing the beer.

“Nothing,” I say with a shake of my head, seeing him relax.

“Still keeping it casual?” he asks, motioning to where the girl disappeared.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. But it’s in a teasing voice that I ask, “Still sniffing around things that are none of your business?”

He shrugs, but he’s being a little suspicious. “I just thought the change of scenery might result in a change in some of your attitudes.”

And I immediately catch onto what he’s doing, but I choose to ignore it. I let my eyes sweep over the people around me, lingering on the women. “They are something, these Grimm girls,” I say with a grin and then turn back to Ricky. “But I don’t see them changing anything. I only see them having a lot more fun this year than they did last.”

And I give him a wink.

He looks as if he’s fighting not to roll his eyes at me. “You’re a senior, Boss. That’s around the time they expect you to start putting down roots.”

I let out a sigh, the smile sliding off my face. “Look, Ricky,” I tell him, deciding we won’t be getting into it again, not tonight. “Being an alpha isn’t about checking boxes. It’s about respect and leadership.” I pause for effect. “If I’m not the type of guy to get attached that way, I’m not and that’s the end of the story. They need the best version of me, not some idea you can’t find in real life.”

And it looks as if I’ve hurt his feelings a bit, so I throw the smile back on and I say, “But listen to this, Ricky.”

He quirks his eyebrow at me.

“I left to go to the bathroom, yeah?” I tell him with a mysterious smile. “But it took me ages to even get inside the castle.”

“Really?”

“It wouldn’t let me in,” I keep going, growing excited. “I stood there, trying to summon the fucking Elevator for like half an hour, I swear to Lycan himself, but it kept hiding from me.” I let out a laugh, amused at the very thought of what other tricks it has up its sleeve, this underground castle.

Ricky’s mouth cracks into an excited grin. “Next time, if you’re sure you’re in the right spot,” he tells me, “prick your finger or do something else to draw blood.”

I frown. “Why the hell would I do that?”

My friend clears his throat the way he does when he’s about to go all nerdy on me. He turns to gesture at the spot where the Elevator is hiding, right at the edge of the round cobblestone square we’re standing in.

I let my eyes follow, listening to his soft-spoken, scrawny little self say, “The Academy was founded in 1847, the same year the first Games were held, yeah?”

I nod. “But the castle, the underground part at least, was built centuries earlier,” I add.

“Exactly. And back then, it was a secret shelter for Originals who had nowhere else to turn. And it was made to only reveal itself to those in need.”

I keep staring at the spot for a second, mulling it over. Then I turn to my friend and say, amazed, “Where do you get all this stuff, Ricky? I read like a bunch of books to prepare, but none of them mentioned anything like that.”

“There are things that Grimm Academy would prefer to stay unknown.” He throws me a sly smile. “But I have my ways.”

“Look at you,” I say as I give him another pat on the shoulder. “Who would’ve thought you’d be so cunning?”

“Know your enemy,” he recites with a proud grin.

“Enemy being the Academy you’re obsessed with? How convenient,” I drawl teasingly, though the concern is starting to seep back into my mind.

And the next thing I know, my fox is letting out a low growl. My head snaps to that same spot I lingered on a moment ago, though the crowd is still making it impossible to see what’s going on. If there’s something going on. My ears prick up and my muscles clench, but the more I stare, the less I think there is.

This is getting tiresome, my wolf’s voice booms again. Let’s pack all the pups up and leave.

“We can’t,” I reply through gritted teeth. “It would be rude to leave this early.” But it is getting tiresome and I’m wondering if it’ll really be easy, doing what Brogan asked me to do.

“Ricky?” I ask even before I turn to him.

“Yes, oh esteemed alpha?” he mocks me.

I throw him a grin, using my most casual voice. “What do you think of Brogan?”

Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um,” he starts, obviously not having expected the question, “she’s a good Archon, I guess. Strong, takes really good care of us.”

“A woman of her word?” I cut in.

He thinks for a second. Then he vigorously nods. “Yes. Yes, I believe she is. But why do you ask?”

I want to know, provided I did everything she told me to, if she’d really give me the professorship. But I can’t tell Ricky that. So I just say, “She promised she’d kick all our butts if we didn’t make it till the end,” I say jokingly.

My friend laughs. “I guess we’d deserve it.”

I let out a laugh, too, but it’s not cheerful. My eyes sweep over dozens of my one hundred little proteges. And just like that, I’m back to feeling the full weight of the pressure. Staying on good terms with our stuck-up hosts, keeping all my people alive, being strong and clever enough to make it to the end…

And I know exactly what I’m working towards, but there’s virtually no room for error here. It feels as if my shoulders are caving in.

But just as I decide to stop bitching and just push through it, my fox senses something again.

“Hold on a minute, Ricky,” I say as I decide enough’s enough.

And I feel him move to follow me, but I just dive into the crowd, pushing my chest out and pulling my eyebrows down. The closer I get, the stronger the feeling gets. Yeah, there’s definitely something going on.

The crowd starts parting, sensing an alpha’s displeasure. It’s then that I see it. A couple of my own standing in a half-circle with their backs turned to me.

“Let him go,” one of the O’Malley brothers yells out.

And just as he yells that, they sense me. Most of them at least. They turn to face me and in doing that, they reveal what’s going on within the circle.

I frown, my fox starting to growl. I see the other O’Malley brother and one of the Grimm students, a fae-blooded one by the looks of him, staring each other down, hands balled into fists vibrating with rage at their sides.

Kill the son of a bitch, my fox demands.

I feel my pack members nervously shift on their feet. I throw a wink in their general direction and I enter the circle, shifting my focus back onto O’Malley and his playdate.

I put my hands in my pockets. “What’s the story here?” I ask in a voice that doesn’t betray my anger. It comes off amused.

“No need for you to get involved, Boss,” O’Malley says, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from his opponent.

“No need for anyone to get involved,” the Grimm student spits out. “I’ll be taking this one down myself.”

“Rip his fucking throat out,” I hear my fox’s snarl.

For fuck’s sake, I think to myself as I let him know this won’t be one of those situations. Just as things were starting to go well. But at least my fox decides he’s bored and retreats.

“What’s your name, mate?” I ask as I shift my focus back onto the Grimm student.

“It’s none of your business.”

I sense Ricky get closer and I hear him whisper in my ear, “Jhaeros.”

I glance at the Runes hanging around Jhaeros’ neck and I say, “Why don’t you come here and we’ll get a drink, you and I.”

To that, Jhaeros spins around to face me. “Sure,” he drawls, “as soon as I get revenge for my great-great-grandfather being called a wuss.”

“I just said,” O’Malley rushes to explain, exhausted desperation in his voice, “that I believe my great-great-grandfather and his fought in the Games of 1860.”

“Defeated,” Jhaeros yells out, “you said he defeated him. But who won in the Umbrage, huh?”

I successfully fight the need to roll my eyes. Instead, I let out a laugh and I come to stand between them, looking down on both their sorry asses.

“So Jhaeros,” I start as I pat him on the back, “now we can have a drink in celebration of both your ancestors.”

For a second, he just looks at me, disgust twisting his features. “Over my dead fucking body,” he snarls, propelling spit at my face.

I ignore the way my pack draw in sharp breaths.

Not letting the little fucker look away, I let the smile slide right off my face. I see the expression in his eyes change. “Then you’ll be grabbing a drink by yourself, mate.” And it’s polite and calm, what I say, but my voice is low and my tone — final. “Far away from us.”

I watch Jhaerous squirm, almost imperceptibly, bitterly swallowing his every urge to fight back.

I feel everyone’s eyes on us as he lets out a scoff, turns on his heel and walks away. Rushes away, to be more exact.

My pack all start laughing and my lips curl into a smile as I watch them pick up where they left off, the care-free little bastards.

“You did it again,” I hear Ricky say, a touch of pride in his voice.

“No, I didn’t,” I spit out as I turn to him. “It got too close to a fight breaking out.”

But I do feel different than before the incident. I’ve been fretting over nothing, thinking about whether I can do all this. I’m strong, I’m the strongest one at our Academy. And not even they know all that I can do.

A smile creeping back on my face, I take a good look around. Everything seems to be going smoothly once again. I pat Ricky on the shoulder and I say, “I think I’ve had enough for today. I’ll see you at the camp, I was told they got everything ready for us.”

He gives me a smile, though he’s obviously disappointed.

And I turn on my heel and I start making my way to the Sobbing Lake, where the said camp is supposed to be located.

The night is balmy and my blood is running hot in my veins, making the stroll more than pleasant. I glance around, admiring the size of the Academy grounds, especially compared to how diminished ours became over the years. And soon, I spot the shimmer coming from the lake and I see the wooden piers behind which our own tents have been erected, strings of soft lights hanging in the air between them.

Maybe, just maybe, this will be much more pleasant than I thought, I think just as I start passing a fragrant orchard.

But almost instantly, my ears prick up and I hear something cut through the air, sharp and metallic. My head snaps to my right and I stop, scanning the moonlit gravel path winding through the trees. There’s someone there, a girl.

Squinting, I watch her make her way down the path, seeming immersed in her own thoughts. But what was that sound?

As soon as I think that, I watch her lift a hand with a knife and propel it into the night air. The knife returns almost instantly, like a boomerang, and she catches it with such skill and grace, I can’t help but want her to do it all over again. And she does, again and again, with such precision and determination that she doesn’t stop her stroll for a second, despite the elaborate dress swaying left right.

Slowly, I realize it’s the Shadowscape girl, the one I saw intentionally lose the game to that pompous vampire prince just before I went to the bathroom. Or at least I think she did it intentionally. Curious, I stroll over to the path she’s walking down.

As soon as I step on it, something nudges me to look down. And like some kind of crumbtrail, I see apple after apple lying on the ground, halves of apples to be more exact. Cut so cleanly in half, it makes my eyebrows shoot up.

I stop and I take another glance at the girl, concern growing inside me once again. They act larger than life, these Grimm Academy students. But it would be a grave mistake to underestimate them.

Chapter 3 - Nyx

Engaged. It’s actually happened. And so much sooner than I thought. Lost in my thoughts, I slowly start walking out of the orchard and back to the party. It came as a pleasant surprise, that no one objected to me taking a walk to process what’s happened. But now it’s time to go back to my fiance.

Still on the path winding through rows of fragrant apple trees, I pause to give a listen in the direction of the courtyard. The party seems to be winding down, low chatter, crickets and night breeze in the leaves the only sounds I can make out. I squint, scanning the rest of the people for Nikolay, Max and Hilde.

Not there. They must be at the after party in the Common Room.

I get out of the orchard and back on the path leading to Lilith Tower. I stop spinning my knife around my fingers to take a look at the ring Max gave me less than an hour ago.

So unreal, I think to myself as I come to a stop below my House’s tower. I crane my neck to look up its dizzying heights. It’s usually a calming sight, its smooth stone surface always glistening under moonlight. But now, all it makes me feel is that same excitement I felt the first night I spent in it. When Max, only having seen me three times before, filled my room with bouquets of my favorites — black roses.

But what really swept me off my feet, I remember as I enter the tower, is the way he stayed up all night with me, making me talk about things I hadn’t talked to anyone before. Making me feel safe, seen, desired. He was nothing like the others, all those men who'd only ever shown interest in me for either my title or my land. It’s the night I fell for him and the night he told me he wanted me to be his.

Engaged, I repeat to myself as I climb the winding staircase up to the Common Room. I’m engaged now. But of course, it won’t all be peaches and cream.

Two images pop into my mind. One is the image of Max and I in our future study, working on some issue of actual importance.

The other is of the two of us entering some lavish gala hall, me on his arm in one of those ridiculous dresses they bought me. And it’s everything my mother’s ever prepared me for, to know exactly when to speak, what to say and how much to laugh.

But I know it, simply because I’ve been paying close attention to the other eleven Princesses, I know exactly what kind of questions the journalists waiting for us there will have for me.

“Who are you wearing tonight?” the question echoes in my mind as I keep climbing the stairs.

That’s basically all they ever ask a princess. And if I chose to be truthful and say I neither know nor care, I’d be met with the look, either disapproving or distrustful, but a look nevertheless.

And I’m not naive. I’ve known it for a very long time, that sometimes, trying to make too many sudden changes results in a failure to change anything at all. So I’ll just have to memorize stuff like that and pretend I actually care.

But it still upsets me, knowing how easy it is to let people pressure you into changing your beliefs, your focus, your priorities. Especially when you’re Princess and everyone keeps focusing on the way you look and the way you laugh and the way you fold your fucking napkins.

And now, the danger of that happening is a more immediate one. More immediate than ever.

But just as I finish that thought, I feel the need to stop midstep.

My ears prick up and my nose gets filled with their scent just as I feel them charging at me at full speed.

I don’t hesitate. I turn around and I let out a sigh, planting my feet firmly on the ground. Then I pull my right fist back and I punch the air in front of me.

The next second, three figures come to a screeching halt, as if out of thin air. Max and Hilde are just standing to his sides, but my brother is holding his hands to his chest, caught in the act of trying to shove me but still having the audacity to frown at me.

“Come on, Nyx,” he moans as Hilde starts giggling, “why’d you always have to do that?”

I roll my eyes at him. “You mean, defend myself?” I ask flatly, my eyes locking with Max’s as I give him a wink. I start walking back up the stairs. “Yeah, I know, it’s such a bitch move.”

I hear Max let out a laugh and it makes me feel a little better, especially when they start talking amongst themselves, Hilde initiating the inevitable conversation on how drunk everyone got.

We reach the top of the stairs and walk into the buzzing Common Room. A little too buzzing for my taste, I think as my eyes sweep over the enormous yet cozy round space sprawling before me. There are so many people standing and flitting around that I can barely see the dimly lit alcoves, the tall burgundy armchairs and the low ebony tables.

Maybe Max and I could just excuse ourselves and go straight up to my room?

But as soon as they spot us, the people greet us with another bout of loud cheering and clapping, and Max turns to throw a happy grin at me. We did just get engaged after all, I think as I return a smile.

So I make myself suffer through another round of congratulating.

And once we’re done, we’re already walking to our spot, making our way down the plush burgundy carpet and across the vaulted room, the moonlight falling through the stained-glass windows creating mesmerizing geometric shapes beneath our feet.

Just as we’re almost there, I see some freshman move to take a seat at our table, in the most spacious alcove right opposite the entrance.

I glance at Max, but he doesn’t have to bother. I hear a hiss from my left and I look in the direction of the sound, only to see one of Countess Koenig’s many daughters throwing daggers at the freshman, fangs flashing.

He stops midstep, glances at the four of us walking straight towards him and doubles back in an almost comical way. I guess, as Princess, this is something I’ll have to get used to as well.

“Isn’t this nice?” Nikolay says with a content sigh as he throws himself into his plush velvet armchair. “And now that we’ve seen all the Fiáin students…”

He throws us all a grin as we get settled into our seats. “Tomorrow, when they bring the betting board out, what's it gonna be?”

“Exciting,” I hear Hilde exclaim.

“Final score,” Max asks, “or which players will make it to the last Game?”

“Let’s do the final score,” Nikolay says with a mischievous smile.

“I think our Academy will win,” Hilde rushes to answer. “Don’t you, Max?”

“Is that how you think this is done?” he asks, throwing an incredulous smile in my direction.

Nikolay leans closer to her to explain, “You need to say how many players will be left by the end of the Fifth Game.”

“Of course,” she says, smiling as she face-palms herself. But then she frowns. “Ours or theirs?”

I have to fight not to start laughing and I only end up blowing one subtle chuckle through my nose.

I see Max roll his eyes, but Nikolay stays with her. “Both, for crying out loud,” he tells her. “The winner is the Academy with more players left, right? So it wouldn’t mean anything if you just said we’d have three players left, not unless you say that the shifters will only have one.”

Hilde is still a little tipsy so she just lets out a little chuckle and says, “I see. Then I say it’ll be twenty to eighteen in our favor.”

“Perfect,” Nikolay replies. “My guess is thirty to eight. What about you, Nyx?”

I just shrug my shoulders. “How in the name of Lilith would we even be able to make a guess? There’s a hundred of us on each side.”

“I neither know nor care what your method will be, oh sister darling.”

“I say forty nine to three,” Max cuts in. “In favor of Grimm Academy, of course.”

I turn to look at him with my eyebrows raised and a slight smile on my lips. “Optimistic.”

“Well, their Academy is dirt poor, their players were all chosen by their wacky Pied Piper instead of a series of tests like we were, and…” He leans a little forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Let’s just say I have a hunch.”

“Wow,” I chuckle, “you’ve actually managed to list all the most irrelevant factors possible.”

“Make your own guess then,” Nikolay challenges me.

“I’m sticking to what I’ve already said.”

“Which is nothing,” Max protests.

“Well, excuse me, but have you ever looked up any of the previous Games? Because I have. In 1852, the Academies were so tied, it all came down to two people. The very next year, our Academy was so much stronger, we ended up having two Games instead of five. It’s all so unpredictable. What kind of game will the Box throw up tomorrow? We’ve no idea. How many of us will make it into the Second Game? We’ve no idea. Not to mention the most important factor of them all.” I pause for effect. “We may have seen them all, but we know nothing about our opponents.”

By the time I finish my rant, they’re all looking at me as if I’m some tiresome adult who’s just taken their toy away from them.

“Thanks, Mom,” Nikolay says mockingly. I look to Max for assurance, but he just shrugs his shoulders with a grin on his face.

“Fine,” I spit out. “If we’re basing this on nothing at all, then fifty one to forty nine, in favor of Grimm Academy.”

And I lean back in my chair, folding my arms and feeling myself start to fume, but Max catches that, leans a little forward and says, so Nikolay and Hilde can hear him as well, “I think you’ll be a little more excited about it all once you find out how much money I already put on you staying until the end.”

Now that makes me frown, a smile dancing on my lips. “You didn’t. And the betting hasn't even started yet.”

“I have my ways,” he adds with a smile from ear to ear, getting up and motioning for me to follow suit. “And you know how much I believe in you, cupcake,” he leans in to whisper.

I do, giving him a playful shove on his shoulder with a grin on my face. Hilde cheers and I catch a funny look that Nikolay throws me, but I’m feeling too good for it to bother me.

And I guess it’s time for us to go up to my room, but before we do, Hilde leans a little forward to tell me, all flustered with excitement, “Nikolay says Irina told him she’s expecting both of you to make her proud tomorrow.”

Fuck, I think as my own excitement deflates somewhat.

And I give her a forced smile and I let Max lead me away from our spot and through the crowd..

But all I can think about now is the pressure. Suffice to say, in the entire history of the Games, there hasn’t been a single Romanov that hasn’t made it into the Second Game.

And I sure as hell don’t want to be the first. I know I’d never hear the end of it.

***

When I wake up in the morning, Max is no longer in my bed. Instead of him, I find a single black rose with a note saying, “Last night was amazing, cupcake. I’ll be coming to get you in time for the Game. Love, Max.”

I roll around in bed, looking out the window as my mind swarms with impressions of yesterday’s events. The Opening Ceremony, the party, the engagement…

It surprises me, when, of all things, I choose to linger on Hilde’s words. “You’ve probably already done it, haven’t you?” she asked, referring to the kiss.

My eyebrows pull down. Why would she just assume? Giving someone the kiss is the most intimate thing of all, more serious than marriage itself.

Even Max, who, as it turns out, expected me to give it to him last night, saying we’re as good as married, didn’t insist after I told him I’m not ready for that yet.

And what’s wrong with waiting until marriage? Once we get married, we’ll get even closer than we are now. And sex in general will get better as well. I imagine it the way it was before my… troubles. Before all the fights and before I became so self-conscious about it all. No, better, I tell myself, it’ll be better than that. It will be about us, and the kiss will come then. I’ll be ready, I’m sure of it.

I spend the next couple of minutes reliving our conversation, the one right before we made love. And it was so tender, the way he consoled me about my future as Princess, reminding me that the two of us won’t be like the other Princes and their wives. I’m marrying a man who knows and gets me and will give me all the support I need in becoming exactly the kind of princess I want to be.

An image of the tundra pops into my mind, the bleak colors and the comforting inhospitality of my ancestral land.

“After we’re married, I want us to go spend like six months at my family’s Winter Palace,” I told him after we agreed we’d have the wedding in May, my favorite month of the year.

And it was so eager, the look he gave me when he said yes, that it all made me feel so much better about everything.

But right now, I’ve no time to be contemplating the future. I’ve got more pressing things to do. So I spring from my bed, I get dressed and I draw the curtains.

And it’s everyday that I do this, but today is no ordinary day.

It’s neither my regular clothes nor my training outfit I’m wearing. The uniform I’ve squeezed myself into is charcoal silversilk, fabric known for being the top choice of the deadliest Originals in our lands. And on my back, there is the luxuriously embroidered green and gold sigil of my Academy.

Frowning, I come to sit cross-legged in front of the altar in my room. There’s practically no light coming through the curtains and the only sound I hear is the ticking of the clock beside the open window. It’s almost noon and I don’t have a lot of time before I have to show up for the start of the First Game.

My eyes sweep over the low, carved table in front of me. In the center, there’s the fat, white candle. To the left, the miniature wooden spinning wheel. And to the right, the shallow brass bowl filled with blood.

Like every day since I was five years old, I prepare to do what every vampire needs to do to keep his powers from fading away. Renew the vow made to the gods that give them. But today it can’t be the automatic act it normally is.

An image pops into my head, an image evoked by a line I read in the History of Grimm Academy. The Games of 1861, when “the First Game was so brutal, the Grimm Academy hospital became so overcrowded, they had to start sending the injured to the nearest medical facility.”

Today, I’m to participate in one of those. And sure, it won’t kill me. But that’s basically all it’s not allowed to do.

So it’ll make all the difference, how I do in the Ring. To my life, whether I get to keep all my limbs. To my family, whether I disappoint them. And to myself, whether I prove worthy.

I take a deep, nervous breath and I start the first ritual. I light the candle and for the millionth time these past few days, I think of what to ask of God of Death, the first of the Holy Trinity. The fact pains me, but today, using my magic to conceal the scars on my forearm is out of the question.

Sadly, that doesn’t make it any easier to feel determined about the choice I’m about to make. Who knows what I’m going to need? The Obscura keeps its secrets until the very last moment, so the players never get to know what will be expected of them beforehand. And even once the Game starts, you still first have to figure out the rules.

I force myself to go with the power I’d already concluded was the best choice for me. General body stealth. I take a deep breath and I do it.

Give me a light step, oh God of Death, and one day, I’ll walk away with you into the unknown.

I open my eyes and I snuff out the candle. In that very moment, I feel a surge of power rush through my body, for a split second making it disappear into the folds between realities. It’s intoxicating because it’s there that all power ultimately resides, in the nothingness that the gods have chosen to retreat into.

I inhale deeply, settle back in and move on to the miniature wooden spindle to the left of the candle. I don’t have Mind Magic, but as my father used to say, it’s good to address the gods even when you’ve nothing to ask of them. Vampires are said to be greedy and I can see exactly how that came to be, but not my father. No one could ever have said that about my father, I think with a pang of grief shooting through me.

I snap out of it and with one swift movement, I make the spinning wheel go round and round. As soon as it stops, I lift my finger to it and I prick it on the little spindle to the front, addressing the God of Dream.

Thank you, God of Dream, for making me your child.

And there has been no transaction between us, so there’s no rush of power following my words. Just comforting silence that makes it clear to me that I’ve been heard.

But I’ve no time to waste, I think as my mind rushes back to the impending doom that is the start of the Games. And I still have the most important thing left to do.

So I turn my eyes to the blood-filled bowl. To ask the God of Flow to grant me further use of Blood Magic. Blood, to put it clumsily, is the lifeblood of all vampires. And it doesn’t renew or even pump on its own. After all, it’s not ours. Every single drop was gifted to us by the original vampire. And it’s this god vampires get their reputation from. Hungry for life, hungry for power. It’s the darkest, most seductive source of power we have.

I place the finger I’ve just pricked above the bowl and I squeeze a few drops of blood out.

Give me mastery of the Flow, oh God of Flow, and I vow to use your blood to rise above nations.

As soon as the third drop falls and I see the little concentric circles it creates, I feel their echo deep inside my body.

My fingers and toes tingling, I quickly get my knife out of its holster and slice into my forearm. The blade thirstily drinks up all the blood, the otherwise hidden carvings in it coming to life, glowing with a soft, blue hue.

I watch them, feeling warm blood drip down my skin. By doing this, I’m renewing my bond with my knife, so I can use my Blood Magic on the drops it has drunk.

For a second, I think how bad it would be for me to have to use this, for people to see me using it.

But I shrug it off. What will be, will be. No point fretting over it right now.

Having completed all my rituals, I let myself get lost in my own thoughts for a second. Thinking of the competition I’m about to go through and all the stakes that come with it.

Win, I want to win, now more than ever. It’ll be much sooner than I thought, me becoming Princess, and I want to enter that era of my life having earned my future people’s respect.

It’s at that exact moment that I hear a sharp knock at my door. Max, here to escort me to the Arena. With rushed movements, I grab the thick leather bracelet off the table and I use it to cover up my scars.

***

As soon as we walk out of Lilith Tower, we get swallowed by the crowd waiting to see the players off. It's thickest around the Dame Gothel statue, but even here, it's suffocating. There are students chanting my fiance’s name and I throw a little glance at him, my lips curling into a smile. He looks so serious and handsome in his own charcoal silversilk uniform, it almost makes me forget about the world around us.

Until I see a light frown scrunch up his forehead and he gestures for the spectators to get the fuck out of our way. They do, parting into two mostly neat rows by the sides of the gravel path that we’re starting on. I look up, my eyes scanning the sky.

There it is, in the distance. The top of the huge glass dome of the Arena we’re about to fight in.

“Excited?” I hear Max ask.

I turn to look at him and I give him a nod, smiling and taking a deep breath. Everything is falling into place.

We keep making our way through the crowd and past the Dame Gothel statue. It was only last night we had the little welcome party here. Today, it’s where the food and merch stalls start.

It makes me feel excited, seeing all the bright colors and interesting knick knacks. Literally every stall has the scarves, green and gold for Grimm, red and silver for Fiáin Academy.

Letting myself get distracted by the cacophony of sounds, smells and sights, I don’t look up from the trinkets until we’re almost in front of the Arena.

I have to crane my neck to properly take it all in. While the glass dome is a modern addition, one that rids the staff of the need to use magic to keep the elements out, the rest of the Arena is ancient. I slow to a stop, feeling Max side-eye me impatiently. But I normally never have time to come here, so I take a moment to admire the well-preserved but seemingly crumbling arches in the style of the Colosseum, trying to picture what it looked like to people centuries ago. Some say the Arena is older than the underground part of the castle, but I never believed that. If it weren’t for the castle’s magical heart, these grounds would never have caught the Originals’ eyes.

We keep walking, reaching the fork in the path right in front of the Arena. If we went right, we’d be led to the massive metal-studded double door that is the main entrance.

Instead, we take the path to the left and soon find ourselves to the back of the Arena, approaching one of the staff waiting to let us through the entrance reserved for the players.

“Go around the left and you’ll see the Grimm Academy entrance,” the petite girl tells us as she opens the much smaller door for us. “And good luck,” she says and throws Max a shy smile.

We make our way through the curving hallway until I see another staff member waving us over. “Hurry up, it’s about to begin,” he tells us.

We do as he says, seeing a whole crowd of Grimm students waiting at the end of the hallway. Right behind them is the door to what we call the waiting room, where players usually get ready for their competitions in the Arena. And to the right, there's the door into the Ring. I spot Nikolay watching us approach.

“Ready to kick some butts?” my brother asks with a smile.

“Always,” Max replies.

“Good luck, Nick,” I say in a serious voice, my attention still on his high spirits.

A little too high, they are. I look around, stealing glances of the other players. And we’re all skilled. After all, there’s thousands of students at Grimm Academy and the three of us have made it into the top one hundred. But some of the other people here, they look downright terrifying. Scars across their bodies, frowns that could turn you to stone, fists clenching in a way that makes you imagine eyes being squeezed out of their sockets.

And who knows what kind of powers the other team is about to showcase. I guess that’s why Nikolay’s attitude is rubbing me the wrong way.

But it’s at that exact moment that the door opens and the silence of the hallway immediately gets switched out for loud, unbridled chatting of thousands of people inside the Arena.

As if out of nowhere, de Groot appears in the doorway, throws a glance at us and motions for us to follow.

We do, starting to file out of the hallway in a perfect two by two.

As I walk through the door, I take the opportunity to look around the Ring. It’s an oval of beaten earth the size of three football fields, closed off by a high wall and empty except for the chair for the Guardian of the Obscura, which they've placed beneath the wall to the center.

Once we’re all out, for a second, there’s absolute silence, only magnified by the size of the Ring.

Then the crowd goes wild, its thunderous chanting pounding in my ears as I put one foot in front of the other, fighting the urge to lift my arm to shield my eyes from all the flashes.

My heart throbbing, I let my eyes sweep over the Ring we’re walking down and then the bleachers rising up from behind the wall and high, high into the air. I can't see them, but I know everyone who counts for anything is here today, watching. It’s dizzying and not exactly pleasant, being the center of this kind of attention.

So when the door on the other side of the Ring opens, I welcome the distraction. Just as our team comes to a stop near the center, the Fiáin one starts marching inside.

Once again, the crowd goes wild, and I see the opposing team’s Archon give a wave of her hand. But it’s not Archon, Cerys or Brogan that the crowd starts chanting.

It’s something else.

And I don’t manage to make out the name, but then I spot that alpha strolling next to her, throwing wide smiles at all the people sucking up to him. Mostly women, judging by the voices and the way everyone leered at him at the party. I sense Max tense up next to me.

What snaps me out of it is the opposing team coming to a stop and all eyes snapping to the man walking into the space between us.

It’s Uncle Ludwig, wearing his ceremonial robe and carrying the Box in his hands. It’s at the very center of the Ring that he stops and clears his throat.

“Welcome,” I hear his voice boom from the speakers as his eyes sweep over the bleachers. “Welcome to the first Games after a pause of one hundred and fifty six years.”

I hear loud cheering and clapping all around me.

Uncle raises a hand to silence them. “Now,” he says as he turns back to the audience. He motions at the Box in his hands. “We all know what it is I’m holding in my hands. For over a decade, it’s been an honor and a privilege to keep this safe. After all, it was made by Dame Gothel, one of the most famous faes of all time, all in the hopes of creating an alliance between our then newly founded Academies. Now, over a century later…” He pauses for effect. “We find ourselves in need of forging that alliance anew.”

There’s a murmur of approval from the audience.

“Luckily for all of us,” Uncle continues in a more cheerful yet a little forced tone, “the Brothers Grimm, as well as the rest of the founders of the Alliance, they all liked to have fun, so it will be by playing five Games throughout the course of the following year that we'll be doing that.”

I hear weak laughter here and there.

Uncle awkwardly clears his throat. “So,” he says as he turns his eyes to the principals standing there, the silence now deafening, “Pied Piper, Archon, will you do us the honor and activate the Box?”

The two smile, walk up to him and shake hands, making the Box glow.

I hear the crowd break out into thunderous cheering as we watch them leave the Ring to take their seats in the Pied Piper’s booth, but at the same time, the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

Uncle opens the Box, slides his hand inside, takes something out and flings it into the air, Hourglass coming to hover above us all.

“Before we begin,” Uncle says, making people around me let out impatient grumbles, “let me go over the rules for you all. What the Game is, you'll have to figure out for yourselves. But no matter where it takes place and no matter what the Box comes up with, you begin when the sand starts running and you finish when it stops running. You can do whatever you want, except for intentionally trying to injure others or trying to collaborate with them. The Box will know and will zap you out of the Game if you break either of those two rules. It will also zap you out if you tap your chest three times, signaling you want out, or if you get too close to getting killed.”

He pauses before he says with a nod, “That's all. Now, without further ado, I give you…” The last bit he yells out. “Your First Game.”

Instantly, two large, round goalposts appear on each side of the Ring and remain floating in the air, two scoreboards in gilded frames hovering above them. I sense thousands of heads snapping left right.

Then, the ground beneath us starts to shake, there’s this loud rumbling noise coming from it, and out burst dozens of stone shields of some kind, painted in our Academies’ colors. They remain levitating in the air, evenly spaced out throughout the Ring.

What the…

For a second, there’s silence, all eyes turning back to the Box.

Then, from its small rectangular opening, stuff comes flying out at record speed.

Glowing metal balls. And there are so many and they’re so fast, it sends my mind into overdrive.

I sense the players around me start to squirm, but before I can even process what’s going on, Uncle goes to take his seat, I see Hourglass flip and I hear the sand starting to run, marking the start of the Game.

***

For a second, I stay frozen in place, my mind buzzing. I’m only vaguely aware of the tense silence all around me as I watch the balls come to an abrupt stop and remain hovering in the air, peaceful and unmoving.

My heart skips a beat.

Then they move again and I flinch. But it’s slow and lazy, the way they start buzzing around.

Still, it makes everyone around me get a move on. I sense Max and Nikolay break off from our group, Max walking into my line of sight. His eyes are fixed above. He’s watching, frowning. But my attention is on the balls, my gaze drawn by the one making a left around one of the stone shields, then the one diving down a little and almost touching the ground, then the one buzzing past one of the Fiáins.

Buzzing… almost like bees.

It’s only when one of the Grimms, a vampire girl I don’t know, almost slams into me that I snap out of it. She throws me a frown and turns her attention back up, continuing to move like a predator.

I look around and realize I’m the only one from our team still standing where we found ourselves when the gong sounded. The rest have all dispersed across the Ring, along with the Fiáins. And no one has made the first move yet, but they all look as tense as if they’re about to.

Come on, Nyx, I tell myself.

My fingers hovering right above my knife holster, I start walking, slowly, fixing my eyes on one of the balls again. I take a deep breath, imagining the silence in the room I usually train in, and all the noise in my head finally subsides.

What remains is the Game and the Game only.

I assume I need to avoid the shields, I think as I watch the ball make a lazy U-turn around one of them. But what’s the point? What am I supposed to do here?

I frown. It can’t be about catching the balls. That would be too simple, right?

Just as I think that, I see one of the Fiáins approach the one I have my eyes on.

I stop midstep.

For a second, he hesitates, but then he leaps up into the air, his arm swung back.

Instinctively, I jump back.

Time slows down as I watch the ball stop, stay still for a second and then start spinning in place like crazy, producing a disgustingly loud machine-gun type of noise.

The next thing I know, the ball is merrily buzzing away while the shifter is lying on the ground, wailing as he clutches his thigh.

The silence that ensues is thunderous. For a second, it feels as if it’s finally gotten to everyone’s heads. This is real.

I gulp, my eyes rounding as they sweep over the guy’s body, seeing more puncture wounds than I can count, the one on the thigh heavily bleeding out.

There’s a murmur from the audience as he gets zapped out of the Game.

And I’m vaguely aware of the rest of the players having stopped to watch the incident in tense silence.

But once the wounded one is out of the Ring, there’s a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere.

Playtime is over, I think as I force myself to keep moving, my hand hovering above my knife holster as I scan my surroundings.

All of a sudden, there are one hundred and ninety nine individuals getting a move on. I hear cracking sounds and my head snaps to my left to watch a fae-blooded Grimm summon a shield to defend himself. I see a blur dart past him, my eyes following it to see a girl from my House starting to chase one of the balls. And my nose gets filled with a familiar musky scent as I watch a couple of Fiáins jump up, shift midair and hit the ground running, separating so as not to break the rules.

Apparently, the goal is to catch the balls, I think as I keep stalking across the Ring. It’s just that the balls themselves have magic and will attack you if you try.

Observe, I first need to observe some more.

I scan my surroundings for the girl from my House, eager to see what the plan is. I spot her just as the ball she’s chasing stops and turns to her, moving to attack. She deftly evades it, spins around and tries to catch it.

Hoping to do it quicker than the ball can react?

I stop, my eyebrows shooting up and anticipation making my breath shallow.

But before I can even process what’s going on, the ball is already vibrating and the next thing I know, it’s buzzing around her and she’s screaming.

The sound makes blood curdle in my veins, but I can’t tear my eyes away. The ball is getting a chain of light wrapped around the girl and the chain is cutting into her skin, threatening to slice her into pieces.

The scream gets louder, the only sound beside the throbbing of my own heart in my ears.

Fucking shit, isn’t this supposed to stop as soon as a student gets in mortal danger?

I sense other students stopping to watch and I glance around, wondering if I’m supposed to do something.

But it’s at that exact moment that the ball stops, the girl drops to the ground and the Box zaps her out of the Ring.

As I watch, terror seeps deep into my bones. I have to fight the urge to go look for Nikolay and Max. Instead, I keep stalking around the Ring, trying to come up with a plan.

So far, I know that the balls have magic and it’s not just one type, based on what’s just happened. I also know you can’t rely on catching them before they have time to react. They’re just too fast.

What if I used my stealth? Would that help me catch them off guard?

Time is running out, I remind myself as I scan my surroundings. I don't know how long we have left because Hourglass won't show that, but I have to get a move on.

So I take a deep breath and I zero in on one of the balls, but it’s just then that my eye gets drawn to one of ours, a fae-blooded guy who’s just managed to trap one of the balls using Air Magic.

I stop, watching the ball squirm inside the air balloon he’s created around it.

My eyebrows shoot up. Clever, making sure he doesn’t even need to touch it. And I can already see him driving the air balloon through one of the goalposts.

But the next second, the ball inside the balloon stops squirming, and it pushes down and through the barrier, slamming straight into the ground.

My heart skips a beat and I see the guy’s eyes round in surprise.

But before he can do anything, the ball comes charging up, releasing some foul gas that envelops the fae completely.

I jump back as soon as I see the cloud of smoke drawing closer, the guy inside coughing and trying to yell something as he runs.

Help, he’s calling for help.

Fuck this shit, I think to myself and I move to try to save him without even knowing how.

But as he whizzes past me, he gets too close to one of the other balls and the next thing I know, we have three of them flying straight at us.

The buzzing, their buzzing is so angry. Run, run the fuck away, I curse at myself.

Just as one of them gets too close for comfort, I do a flip, throwing myself on the ground and rolling away.

I land on one knee, push myself up and break into a sprint.

My heart pumping wildly, I throw a glance over my shoulder and I slam into something, hard.

The crash makes me stumble back and look up.

And there he is, the alpha, standing in front of a shield, as still as if the impact didn’t even make him budge. There’s a frown on his face. I open my mouth to say sorry, but I see his eyes dart to a spot behind my back and we both duck.

I hear one of the balls whiz past and then I see it, flying straight at the shield behind his back.

But before it can even touch it, it comes to a screeching halt, turns and flies away.

I hear the alpha say something. “You okay?” I think that’s what he’s asking me.

But I don’t take my eyes away from the shield behind him. I lift my finger to my lips, shushing him as my mind starts exploding with the realization.

And I jump to my feet and I get moving again.

Because it’s finally hit me, what the Game is.

***

I’m trying to focus, but the goddamn alpha is making it really hard. I’m in a low crouch on top of one of the shields, my legs spread as wide as they can be, my forearms resting on my knees lightly as I keep my eyes peeled on the strip of air between this one and the shield right across it. If I’m fast enough, I should be able to do it, easy.

There’s only the matter of the asshole messing with my concentration ever since I bumped into him. I felt him follow me until I found the next target. I saw him watch when I leapt up into the air and ran over the ball in as wide a circle as I could, to check whether it had a blind spot.

And now, once I’ve made sure it really can’t detect me when I’m positioned above it, now he’s standing there, waiting for my next move like a hawk. But to make things even worse, he’s leaned against the shield with his arms casually crossed, as if this is some kind of movie night for him.

Fucker.

I shrug it off and keep waiting, every muscle in my body tense with anticipation. I still can’t believe I thought the shields were just obstacles for the players. And I can’t keep track of what’s going around me, except register, now and then, a distant explosion or scream or whipping sound or the like. But I know I’m right, I just know it.

And not just because of what popped into my head when I saw the ball do everything in its power not to collide with the shield. The section in that book on Nature Magic about this special kind of metal that loses all magic charge when it comes into contact with the earth. It’s also because of, well, a gut feeling.

So when I finally see a ball buzzing towards me, I have to force myself to keep it together, to keep my breathing and my mind and my body steady.

And just as it’s about to whiz past, I move as if I’ll jump down, grab onto the top of the shield with my hands and catch the ball tightly between my thighs. It instantly starts thrashing like crazy, making me grit my teeth with effort, but I keep it pressed firmly and unforgivingly against the stone from which I’m hanging.

For one long moment, the ball keeps thrashing, putting such strain on my muscles, it feels as if they’re tearing.

But then it stops, suddenly and totally, and I exhale and I relax my muscles a little, letting the ball drop to the ground.

I do the same, already picturing sending it flying through the goal post.

But when my boots hit the ground and I push myself up, I find myself face to face with the goddamn alpha. He’s smiling, his arms still folded in that annoyingly casual way.

My eyes narrow. I throw the quickest glance down to the ground and see he’s got my ball trapped under his boot.

“That’s mine,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll let you have it,” he says in that smooth, easy voice of his.

I frown. “What’re you talking about?”

He motions back to where I slammed into him. “Don’t even remember?” he asks in a teasing voice. “Breaks my heart.”

“Fine, I’m sorry,” I drawl, the delay getting me more annoyed by the second. Then I shoot him a mocking look. “Sorry you’re such a snowflake.”

And I gesture for him to get the fuck away from my ball, but he just asks, “Something wrong with snowflakes?”

I let out a frustrating breath. “Not very challenging to beat. Now get off my fucking ball.”

Apart from his smile growing wider, he straight-up ignores that last bit. “Beat? Who says I wouldn’t beat you?”

“I do.”

His eyes narrow, and it’s with a knowing smile that he whispers, “What, you only let princes do that, Shadowscape girl?”

It feels like a slap across the face. And it means he knows who I am.

“Well,” he starts as he leans a little closer, but doesn’t let go of my ball, “I’m definitely not one, but I have a feeling I’d be more fun to be beaten by.”

His voice is seriously hot, but the tone is intentionally seductive as well. I frown. Is he fucking hitting on me? Right here in the Ring? And he’s convinced I won’t be able to resist him, I can tell by the look in his eyes. It makes me so pissed, I decide I won’t let this slide without at least a pinch of humiliation.

So I give him a slightly shy, but obviously flirty smile.

He pulls away a little, looking at me from an angle, saying, “Wow, you can do something other than frown after all.”

I take a step back and I make my voice as silky smooth as I can. “I guess you’re funny.”

Chapter 4 - Dahrian

Funny, Shadowscape girl says as she takes a tentative step back, throwing me a softer look from those big, dark eyes. I follow her. “Glad you think so,” I say, ignoring my fox nudging me to get even closer so he can get another whiff. “What’s your name?” I ask her.

She just looks at me for a second. “I think you know it,” she says. That makes me frown. “But you first,” she demands.

My lips curl into a smile. So thin and small, yet such a big presence she is, with that mane of tangled black hair framing her sharp face. “Dahrian,” I say as I look deeper into her eyes, “but you can call me whatever you want.”

I think I see her blush and it sends my heart racing a little, my fox grumbling to be let closer.

“Well, Dahrian,” she starts sweetly, my name on her lips sounding so good, but then, just like that, she disappears.

I don’t have time to react. The next thing I know, she’s slamming my body into the shield behind me, her forearm pressed tightly against my chest as something round and thrashing is trapped between my back and the cold stone.

It renders me speechless and unmoving, the close up of her eyes — narrowed and piercing, deep and cold. “Thanks for making this easy,” she whispers with a smirk just as the ball stops thrashing.

My eyebrows shooting up, I open my mouth, but she releases me and deftly catches the ball as it starts falling down to the ground, successfully neutralized.

Still speechless, I watch her zap herself away from me, seeing her reappear right in front of one of the goalposts. The very next moment, she’s leaping into the air, her arm swung back.

Everyone around me seems to stop what they’re doing.

The second she gets the ball through the hoop, a gong sounds and the scoreboard above shows a flashing number one.

I watch her land on her feet, as deftly as a little vixen, as the crowd breaks out into thunderous cheering. One zero for Grimm Academy.

The very next second, she’s zapped out of the Ring and onto the bleachers.

But it doesn’t snap me out of it, not fully.

The little vixen, she set me a little trap, and I walked straight into it.

Color me charmed.

“Hey,” I hear Ricky call out as he runs past me. He turns so he’s running backwards, shoots me a look and yells, “Come on,” right before he turns back around and keeps going.

He’s right, I think as I look down, thinking I'll find the ball she neutralizes first still lying on the ground. But it's gone, someone obviously having grabbed the opportunity. I go straight back to looking for more, scanning the Ring as I jog.

There aren’t a lot of players left. Out of the initial two hundred, maybe eighty or so. And some of them are in their animal form while some are casting magic at this very moment, but they all seem wrung out.

Still, now that she did it, it seems that everyone’s caught onto what we’re supposed to be doing in the first place. I can tell by the way most of them stop avoiding the shields, instead starting to crowd the center of the Ring.

Many of them got destroyed and there’s not that many balls left, so if I don’t hurry up, I won’t be catching anything at all, be it a night with a feisty little vixen or one of those fucking points.

Keep the peace and stay until the end, Brogan’s voice rings in my head.

And I finally do it. I get in the zone. And I choose to stick with the original decision, to not even try to shift due to the sheer size of my fox. But then I spot a ball and I come up with the perfect way to make it slam into one of those shields.

***

I’m in the bleachers, sitting in one of the spots reserved for Fiáins who’ve finished the Game. My focus is as sharp as a knife as my eyes dart from the Ring to one of the screens showing close-ups of the Game to the audience. It’s all going much faster now, players scoring points left and right, the scoreboards changing every couple of minutes.

I catch O’Malley Senior getting a ball through the hoop. My lips curl into a smile, my gaze automatically flitting over to where the little vixen is sitting.

A pang of disappointment shoots through me when I see she’s out of my line of sight.

That quickly changes into excitement when my men and women keep scoring points like crazy.

Now that they know what they’re doing, they’re unstoppable, their beasts manipulating the balls into slamming into the shields and keeping them pressed against them until they’re neutralized with such ease, it’s a delight to watch.

At one point, the screen shows Brogan’s face. To my surprise, she’s not smiling. She’s frowning, her lips pressed tight.

But the score on the board keeps changing from second to second, five to one, seven to two, twelve to two. All in our favor.

I watch Fiona catch a neutralized ball and I grin, waiting for her to throw it through the goalpost.

But this time, the ball explodes.

I frown, jumping from my chair. What the… They’re supposed to be harmless once they’ve been neutralized.

I keep standing there, waiting for someone to intervene. On the other hand, maybe it’s part of the game…

Then it happens again.

And again.

I clench my fists, all the muscles in my body tensing up as my fox starts emitting a growl.

If it’s part of the game, it would be a bitch move to stop it.

Reluctantly, I move to get back into my chair.

When it happens again. And this time, the scream of one of my pack is so piercing, I fail to stop myself. O’Malley Junior. It was O’Malley Junior.

No, this can’t be part of the Game. I make a snap decision. I jump over a few people nestled in their chairs, I land on the little path between the rows and I start running straight back into the Ring.

Just as I’m about to leap over the wall, a voice coming from the speakers makes me come to a screeching halt.

“Enough,” I hear Brogan order in a stern, determined and a little aggressive voice. I see all the players stop what they’re doing and start turning around, looking for the source of the sound.

“The Game is officially over,” she declares.

I hear a murmur coming from all around me, booing as well as loud agreement, but I don’t give a fuck. I change my course, starting to move to the booth where Brogan and their Pied Piper are sitting.

I see her walk out of there, a pissed-off look on her face. She catches my eye, growls, “I’ll take care of it,” and pushes past me.

I watch her march down to the Guardian’s spot. I see him sitting there, looking all innocent. Ludwig something. Ricky did tell me, I just didn’t commit it to memory. But now, I think as my eyes narrow into slits, now that I know there’s a game he’s playing, I’ll learn.

And I keep standing there, throwing daggers at the guy, wanting to see Brogan give him what he deserves.

But the very next moment, the people all around me start getting up, I hear more than one monotonous voice explaining where all the exits are, and I realize we’re being thrown out of the Arena.

Fuck. But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I start leaving, scanning the crowd for members of my pack.

As I leave, somewhere near the main entrance, I spot the little vixen. I squint to take a better look, but the very next second, someone takes her by the upper arm. A tall, dark figure with a frown on his face. That vampire prince. He leans in for a kiss.

My eyebrows pull down.

I guess it was the prince’s fiance I’ve just tried flirting with.

Chapter 5 - Nyx

My mind buzzing, I follow Max back to Lilith Tower. The sounds of all those people screaming are still echoing through my mind. But it’s the whispers I heard afterwards that are even more disturbing. Someone rigging the very first Game and that someone being no other than Uncle Ludwig.

My mind lingers on him. He’s one of those people I’ve known my entire life, but now that I think about it, I know practically nothing about him. He’s a Professor here, he teaches Blood Magic, he likes Schwarzwald cake and he’s the Guardian of the Obscura.

I barely notice it when we get to the Common Room. We have to elbow our way to our spot, that’s how many people have come to discuss the explosive, unexpected end of today’s event. But right now, I don’t mind. In fact, I’m grateful for the feverish chatter.

Because it’s kind of terrifying to think about, the possibility of the whispers being true. Uncle aside, that’s how it all started a hundred and fifty six years ago. And by the end, there were so many casualties, there was barely anyone left.

It’s Hilde who snaps me out of it. She wiggles her way out of the crowd gathered around the betting board and throws Max a tentative smile. But it’s me she comes to greet, looping her arm through mine and making me slow down a bit.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a low, worried voice, making my eyebrows pull down. “I saw that alpha giving you trouble.”

Blood instantly rushes to my face. I throw a glance at Max before I say in a voice barely above a whisper, “He wasn’t, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t know,” she insists, “seemed like he was intentionally getting in your way. Maybe you should think about reporting it. You never know what someone’s strategy is.”

I have to fight to keep myself from raising my voice. “He wasn’t doing anything that’s not allowed.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, making me grit my teeth. “I mean, for a second, it almost looked like you were flirting, but then I saw you needed to use force.”

My ears burning, I throw another glance at Max. Thank gods he didn’t hear this, I think when I see him greeting people passing by. Still, I snap at my cousin a little, wanting her to drop it as soon as possible. “Well, who doesn’t need to use force during the Games?”

There’s a second of silence before she says, “Alright alright. I was just worried about you.” And she lets go of my arm, sulkily, just as we finally manage to elbow our way to our table.

There, Nikolay is already waiting for us. As soon as he spots Max, he eagerly sits up straighter.

“Bloody hell, guys,” my brother expels as the three of us throw ourselves into our chairs. “What the fuck just happened?”

“It’s simple,” I hear Max say.

My muscles aching even more now that I’m sprawled like this, I turn to look at him. There’s such smug conviction on his face as he declares, “Their players got too cocky.” Anger flashes through his eyes as he motions in the direction of the Arena. “Did you see them out there?”

I frown, but I don’t sit up. This is just too comfy for me to renounce it.

“Yeah,” Nikolay drawls, slowly nodding away without taking his eyes off Max. “I see what you mean. Could be, could be.”

“What’re you talking about?” I chuckle, sitting up after all. My eyes sweep over all three of them, but lock on Max’s. “I was watching the entire time. There was absolutely no recklessness in the way they were catching those balls. They’re really good,” I say with conviction. “Like, really good.”

“So what is it then?” Max leans back and drawls. “Enlighten us.”

And I don’t really want to be repeating it, but it does sound like the only logical explanation. Not without hesitation, I find myself saying, “Someone rigged the whole thing.”

“Oh come on,” Max yells out, throwing his arms up and turning to throw me an incredulous stare. “You, too? Why the fuck would we need to rig the fucking Games?”

“The balls,” I start through gritted teeth, trying to keep my cool, “they only started exploding once the shifters started taking the lead. And—”

“Bloody hell,” my brother cuts me off, making me take a deep breath to calm myself. “I did hear one of the little Dukes say the same.”

“So fucking what?” Max asks with a scoff.

“I don’t know,” Nikolay mutters, suddenly all confused. “I mean, I guess it’s worth considering the idea.”

“I think Max is right,” Hilde chimes in. There’s fear written all over her face. “If not…” Her voice gets a little choked up as she looks around for reassurance. “What would that even mean? Like, everything starting all over again? Will they cancel the Games or?”

“If they’re smart—”

This time, it’s Max who cuts me off. “They won’t be cancelling the fucking Games, come on.”

Embarrassment renders me speechless. As blood rushes to my cheeks, I try to catch his eye to see if he’s going to acknowledge not letting me finish my sentence.

But then Nikolay spits out, “I think they should send those filthy shifters back to the hole they crawled out of.”

I just blink at him for a second. Then my eyebrows pull down in a sudden burst of anger. “What the… Shouldn’t you be more worried about your uncle?”

He frowns. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Remember, Nick,” Hilde cuts in, “I heard that girl say he must have tampered with the Box.”

“As if,” my brother replies with a scoff. “The Box can’t be tampered with.”

“Nikolay,” I start, catching his eye as I lean a little forward. “There are people in the hospital and everything’s been put on pause. This is serious.”

He just looks at me for a second. “Yeah,” he says in that voice he uses when he thinks I’m being thick, “but it’s Uncle.”

I just blink at him. I open my mouth to say something, but all of a sudden, it all sounds ridiculous.

“Actually,” Nikolay continues with a laugh, his eyes sweeping over all three of us, “it being Uncle, that would be the best possible scenario. We’d just get Mother to slap some sense into him.”

Hilde laughs and I see Max’s lips tug into a smile, but I just can’t bring myself to find any of it funny. They’re all getting on my nerves.

Strangely empty and disoriented, I just get up and wave my hand in a tired greeting.

“Where’re you going?” I hear Max ask, sounding surprised.

I turn to look at him, finding his eyebrows raised at me slightly, almost instantly realizing I’ve gotten mad at him for no reason whatsoever. It’s Nikolay who always interrupts me. I can’t be taking it out on Max.

Feeling myself softening, I lean a little forward to whisper in his ear, “Give me an hour and come up to my room. We’ll order food from the kitchens and I’ll do that thing with my mouth that you love.”

And I give him a peck on the cheek and I pull away to look at him.

Smiling and with one eyebrow quirked at me, he says, “I think we have a deal,” grabs my hand and squeezes it tight, only letting go once I completely pull away.

***

That disorienting emptiness keeps following me out of the Common Room and up the stairs to my bedroom.

So when I find myself in front of my door, despite privacy and silence waiting on the other side, I realize it’s another room I’m in need of.

Without a moment of hesitation, I walk back to the stairs and keep climbing, the tower becoming less crowded the higher I go.

Right at the top is my favorite room of all time. And it’s all because of the painting. Becoming relaxed just thinking about it, I make my way past windows with lattice arches, the view of the world outside becoming more and more isolating. People out on the grounds turning into mere dots, trees into colorful, highly realistic toys, the Wall surrounding the castle a white snake winding its way through the deep, dark forest.

And just as the height becomes dizzying, I find myself at the very top. It looks like a regular rookery of ages past, back when the shifters still used the ravens they bonded with for sending letters.

I guess that’s why students nowadays only ever use it to have sex, old condoms littering the weathered wooden floorboards.

But if you know what you’re looking for…

I approach the space between two arched windows and I knock three times, lightly. There’s a soft, but sudden sound of something unlocking within the stone and a door appears, retreating back to let me into a room the size of a shoebox.

It always makes me remember how I first discovered this. Back when my father died and my mother sent me to visit my aunt here at the Academy. I spent my days running around the grounds and getting in trouble, furious at the world without even knowing it.

Thinking of myself being so lost and vulnerable, I let out a soft scoff and I step inside. I close the door behind me and I let my body slide down its length, all the way to the floor.

And I fix my eyes on the painting, the very sight making my breathing calmer. It’s just a very old portrait of a plain-looking vampire noblewoman posing in a lush green garden. Lady X, I call her. If it were now that I saw it for the very first time, I know I would’ve hated it. The way she’s cinched into the tightest corset ever, making me wonder how she could even breathe. The way she has one hand outstretched and a handkerchief falling from it, as if she’s about to ask for her smelling salts. But it’s the way she looks at me that bothers me the most. That meek, subservient look in her eyes.

Although, sometimes, I do feel as if that’s the way she is only when I’m looking. As if, sometimes, I can catch a fleeting change in her expression that makes me stop and wonder if I’m losing my mind.

But despite it all, she still has that effect on me. It was the first thing, after my father’s death, that I came across that could make me stop and just… be.

For a second, I just remain sitting there, staring at the portrait as the emptiness grows inside me. And then, as soon as my mind rushes to the conversation I just had with the three of them, it turns sharp and red hot.

An image of my brother flickers before my eyes. “Yeah, but it’s Uncle,” his words echo in my mind. But it wasn’t the words, it was the look in his eyes that rendered me speechless. Making me feel, once again, like a heartless, disloyal bitch for daring to think anything less than the very best of any of the million fucking members of our family.

Knowing no one can hear me, I let out a loud, angry cry, my hand automatically darting to my knife. Gritting my teeth, I whip it out of its holster and I start twirling it around my fingers.

I mean, is he stupid? It’s not like I was accusing Uncle. But it’d be far from the first time someone from our family did something devious, treacherous or both just to settle an old grudge. And we all know that this might be one of them. After all, in the Umbrage, the Romanovs were among the more involved and more brutal families.

Still spinning my knife, I try to calm down, but it’s just so infuriating. The Games have only just begun, this incident will probably turn out to be a mere coincidence, and even if it didn’t, it’s too soon to place blame on anyone.

But we’re not a regular family, we Romanovs, especially now that I’m about to marry the prince. We have more power and therefore more responsibility than most other families. And that’s exactly why it pisses me off so much, that they’d dismiss me like that, laugh at me, make me out to be the problem, when I’m the only one taking the responsibility seriously.

Gritting my teeth, I stop twirling my knife, I pull my hand back and I jab the tip into the skin on my left wrist.

It hurts, but not nearly enough. I drop the knife and I slam my forehead into my palms, swallowing an angry scream.

I miss him so much, my father, I think as tears start welling in my eyes and my anger turns into frustrated, inconsolable sadness. He was the only one who ever got me. And for a while, after he died, I thought I’d die as well. Then life went on and I found myself in this perpetually anxious, suspended state, all alone in the world, but I was going to school, doing my rituals, playing Thieves and Bloodhounds with the stable boys in the Summer Palace West Wing.

But never again did I feel as seen as I did when he’d appear out of nowhere in the middle of my tutoring session, steal me away from my begrudging governess and take me practicing my knife skills.

“I can’t wait, Anastasya,” he’d sometimes tell me, “to see what you’re going to achieve.”

And there was such conviction in his deep, dark eyes. Such warm, warm conviction.

I lower my hands and I look up, my face sticky with tears. And there’s Lady X gazing at me with that meek look in her eyes.

But there’s also the voice of that alpha echoing in my head. “What, you only let princes do that, Shadowscape girl?”

And then he flashes me that hot grin and I feel a twinge in my stomach.

Blood comes rushing to my cheeks, my hands balling into fists. What the fuck does he care about my fucking choices?

I let out a scoff.

But it’s Hilde I’m pissed at. She’s a smart girl, tougher than she looks, one of the best Mind Magic wielders I’ve ever come across. But instead of working on realizing her potential, she’s willingly choosing to be the fucking mother hen, constantly sticking her nose in other people’s business. No wonder she ends up drawing stupid conclusions like the one she drew today. It’s sheer desperation.

Still, it’s maddening, for her to have thought, even for a second, that that was actual flirting, what she saw out there in the Ring. A, I have my Max, or have you forgotten all about that, Hilde? That alpha can’t even compare. B, I was in the middle of a fucking Game. And even if it weren’t for A and B, even if His Hotness would ever show any actual interest in me outside trying to win, that’s definitely not someone I can see myself falling for. I mean, he’s obviously one of those not-a-care-in-the-world, my-nose-up-every-woman’s-skirt kind of guy.

Me? I grit my teeth, I grab my knife off the floor and I jump to my feet. I’m Anastasya Konstantinova Romanova. And I have better things to do than worry about my stupid cousin and some Fiáin rando.

Yes, I have Games to win and a reputation to build. And I don’t give a fuck what my brother thinks. While he’s out eating and fucking himself to death, I’ll be making sure we’re covered in case the today’s incident doesn’t turn out to be a coincidence. And I’ll start by doing some digging on our family’s ties to the Games.

Chapter 6 - Dahrian

Struggling to keep my focus as my mind refuses to stop conjuring images of members of my pack dying in that fucking hospital wing, I’m rushing after Ricky, our footfalls muffled by the thick red carpet beneath our feet. We’re walking down some seemingly random hallway in the Academy and I can’t help but wonder where he’s taking me.

But when I asked him to help me figure out what really happened at the Games, he said not to worry, he knew exactly where to look for answers. And besides, it’s with good reason I’ve all but anointed him as my right hand. He’s without a doubt the smartest, most reliable person I’ve ever met.

So I just keep walking after him. And we only take a couple of more turns before I find myself stepping into a huge vaulted anteroom with one silent, motionless person keeping guard at each side of an enormous wooden double door. Except for the door, everything around me is white marble, the man and woman dressed in plain but rich green uniforms with long button-down coats.

I slow to a stop, my eyes snapping up to see a large stone shield hanging right above the door. It’s got the Grimm Academy crest carved into it and there’s a scroll floating below with the words “Know yourself” written on it.

It’s only then that I realize where we are and it makes my lips curl into a smile just as my friend stops to motion for me to keep following him. Of course he’d be taking me to the Library. This is Ricky we’re talking about, after all.

As soon as we approach the door, both guards move to meet us. We end up getting frisked in complete silence.

“We’re going straight to the History section,” Ricky whispers as soon as they open the door for us and we enter a huge, softly lit space with elaborately carved wooden bookshelves and a glass wall overlooking some kind of cave.

And there’s a reception to our right, with a couple of Librarians in flowy green and gold robes, chatting away in hushed voices, but Ricky doesn’t even glance in their direction. He just keeps walking as if he knows exactly where he’s going.

I catch up with him to whisper, “How do you already know this place so well?”

He shoots me an amused smile. “This is where I spent most of last night.” And he keeps walking.

I frown, but I welcome this little distraction. “You mean to tell me, the very night before the First Game, you chose to stay up so you could wander around a library you’ll have a whole year to explore?”

He stops and clicks his tongue at me. I stop as well, smiling even before he playfully snaps, “Not ‘a library’. The Library.”

“What’s so great about it?” I ask as we keep walking.

“Do you know what the Lexarcanum is?”

I think for a second. “Isn’t that, like, a library where books choose people, not the other way around?”

“A library section, to be more exact,” Ricky says as he turns his head to the side to throw me a grin. “But yes. And guess which Library it’s part of.”

I nod as it hits me. “I see.”

“So is it surprising, really, that I had to start checking this place out as soon as we got here?” Ricky asks.

I let out a laugh as I clap him on the back, loudly. “So? What book did you get picked by? ‘One Hundred Ways to Be Even Nerdier’?”

“Quiet,” I hear someone’s soft, slow voice sound from hidden speakers around us.

Ricky shoots me a frown. I raise my hands in defense and it turns into a stifled chuckle as he whispers, “Sadly, no. That part is restricted. But it just goes to show how cool this Library is.”

And he waves for me to follow him into a row between two bookshelves marked History E-G and History G-H.

There, he grabs an incredibly large, dusty book off a shelf and keeps walking in the direction of the glass wall.

It’s only once we step out from between the shelves that I realize there are students sitting all along the wall. They’re sprawled in soft couches and armchairs placed around low coffee tables, some of them immersed in their work, others blatantly procrastinating.

It makes me want to linger, when I see one of the guys, fae-blooded by the looks of him, lying on the couch and using his Air Magic to keep his book floating before his eyes, turning pages as slowly and deftly as if he were using his fingers.

Ricky grabs us a spot at a table all the way to the left, carefully placing the dusty volume on its polished wooden surface as he lowers himself into the couch. I take the armchair opposite him, leaning forward to check out the book.

“History of Grimm Academy?” I ask with a frown. I catch his eyes. “Ricky, we’ve got seven brothers and sisters in that hospital wing, O’Malley Junior’s fucking arms blown off. That book doesn’t seem to be the ideal choice for what I’m interested in.”

Ricky clicks his tongue and cracks the book open, its heavy cover falling to the table with a soft thud. “You’d be wrong in thinking that.”

I let out a tired albeit slightly amused scoff. “Alright then. First things first, ask the book if the Games could really be rigged?”

He just blinks at me for a moment. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t know what history says about that?”

I just shrug my shoulders, knowing exactly where I stand. “I know what people say about it, but no. No, I don’t.”

But Ricky seems genuinely puzzled. “We’re still suffering the consequences of the Umbrage and you were never in the least interested to find out how it came to it?”

I throw him a smile but there’s a bitter taste in my mouth as images flash through my mind, images of life around our Academy as I’ve always known it. Dying a slow, painful death.

And what am I supposed to do? Obsess over how it came to be, or try to fix it for everyone by getting a position at the Academy?

I lock eyes with my little friend and I tell him, “Sometimes, Ricky, the best thing a man can do about a thing like that is to refuse to give it power.”

“Past is there to be learned from,” he snaps.

“And now is here to be lived,” I insist, leaning a little forward and not letting him look away, “not poisoned by what can never be changed.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he gives me a funny little smile and says, “Alright then.”

He turns his attention to the book and starts quickly leafing through it.

“So here,” he says when he stops and pokes his finger right where it says The End of the Games, “you’ll find the Grimm Academy version of the events.”

I squint to where he’s pointing, but he just looks up and gives me a summary. “The Games of 1867, the last Games to ever happen until now, never got to be finished. Our two Academies started off on equal footing, somewhere around the Winter Solstice Ball the Fiáin Academy started winning and then, just as they were about to start the last Game, the Grimm Academy’s Pied Piper called it off, accusing the Fiáin Academy’s Archon for rigging everything in his team’s favor.”

My eyes narrow. “So it really is possible?” I ask.

“This is the Grimm Academy version, as I’ve already said. Right here,” he says as he points to another section of the text, “we have the information on the Box. There’s not a lot, as its secrets are being kept, well, secret. Basically, all we know for sure is that it was made by Dame Gothel and that she used duskenwood to create it.”

“Does that tell us anything useful?”

He shakes his head a little. “It’s an extremely rare material and it’s got powerful magic of its own. So far, no one’s managed to do any research on it without getting seriously injured or straight out dying.”

I just nod thoughtfully.

“On the other hand,” Ricky keeps going, matter-of-factly, “there’s no proof, none, that any kind of tampering has ever been tried on the Box. It was petty jealousy on part of Grimm Academy, as well as an excuse to attack ours and try to get ahold of its power.”

“They do seem power-thirsty, even now,” I say as my mind rushes back to the players I saw in the Ring today.

“That’s because they are.”

An image pops into my head, the image of the Shadowscape girl. I try to resist the urge — I don’t want to give Ricky a reason to pry — but before I can do anything to stop it, I find myself using a deliberately flat voice to ask, “That prince you mentioned, the one who got engaged…”

Ricky gives me a couple of sharp nods. “Yeah. That’s Maximillian Aalders the Second.” His eyes lighting up, he whispers, “Look what kind of cool stuff they have here.”

And he presses some button on the table and its surface starts moving, the wood seeming to come to life. I frown, fixing my eyes on it to see what’s going to happen. First, little valleys and peaks start being formed, then roads and rivers get cut into them, along with their names. And before I know it, the table has turned into a relief map of Europe.

“That’s fucking cool,” I say as I look up at Ricky.

“I know, right.” It’s with a lit up face that he snaps out of it and goes on to explain, “Maximillian Aalders the Second, he’s the prince of this territory right here.” He points to a large valley encompassing the lake we’re currently camping on, the Sobbing Lake. “The Academy’s in his jurisdiction and the vampire King seems to be putting a lot of faith in him, despite the other princes having more territory.”

And it’s interesting and relevant, what he’s telling me, but it’s not the prince I want him to talk about right now. I make an effort to be as nonchalant about it as possible. “And the girl who played Shadowscape with him yesterday? Is that his fiance?”

“Yeah. Anastasya Konstantinova Romanova,” he rushes to reply. “But I’ve read that those close to her call her Nyx.”

It makes me blow a laugh through my nose. “You’ve read it?”

He nods. “Yes, she's a duchess from the famed three-century old Romanov dynasty,” he says matter-of-factly.

It makes my eyebrows shoot up. “Fucking hell,” I say as I run my hand through my hair. “A duchess, you say?” I ask as another image of her pops into my mind.

But my friend’s eyes are already scanning the map before him, excitement once again clearly written on his face.

I watch his finger as it lands far north, circling a huge chunk of territory all in white, with the sea stretching along its seemingly deserted coast. “Now, that’s all hers.” He looks up at me and says, dropping his voice to a whisper and giving me a conspiratorial smile, “People say the Prince is only marrying her for the land.”

“Really?” I ask. But I don’t wait for an answer. “So the two of them,” I start, “Aalders and Romanov, they're the ones to keep an eye on here.”

“Him, yes. Her, not so much.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Despite all that land? And isn’t she about to become Princess?”

Ricky lets out a little chuckle. “It’s not like where we come from. In the vampire territories, the King chooses his Princes wisely because they’re the ones keeping the realm together. But Princesses… I mean, they often have property of their own and they do technically have power, but they don’t actually exercise it.”

Now that makes my eyebrows shoot up, and not just because I myself come from a very different land. It’s got more to do with the look in those big, dark eyes, so intelligent and determined. “I don’t know if that’s true,” I find myself saying.

“What do you mean?”

“Nevermind,” I say with a wave of my hand. “So basically, they’re there to secure the line and look pretty.”

“I mean, it’s not all that bad, especially if you’re not a princess. Take de Groot for instance. She’s very powerful and she’s a woman. But she does take shit for it.”

I pause for a second, thinking. “Ricky?”

He nudges me to spit it out.

“You think I’m overreacting, right? You think I’m seeing a conspiracy where there isn’t one.”

He seems confused. “What made you think that?”

I let out a laugh. “All this talk of Grimm Academy lying about the Games of 1867, the Box being resistant to tampering et cetera.”

He shakes his head. “I’m just giving you facts. It’s got nothing to do with my opinions. In my opinion, we all know what happened that year and how many people ended up dead. I think you’re only being a good leader, taking everything into consideration instead of just ruling out the possibility of someone trying to hurt your pack.”

I nod thoughtfully.

But Ricky’s not done. “And that leads me to what we came here for,” he says as he flips over a couple of more pages in the book before him. “This information about the last Games, I could’ve just told you that. But this…”

He stops to scan the page he’s on. “Ah yes,” he says when he finds what he’s looking for. “When you found me after the Game, you mentioned the Guardian of the Obscura,” he tells me, at the same time skimming over the text in front of him.

Frowning, I just wait for him to finish.

“Well,” he says when he looks up, “the spell that binds the Guardian to the Box is a tricky one.” And he points to the text. “It’s of the dynamic type, the highly unstable one.” He presses his lips tight, making my ears prick up in anticipation. “And it says right here that sometimes those spells can be altered over time.”

“Like?” I ask.

“The possibilities are probably endless.”

“Including the possibility that Ludwig Schwarz changed the way the Game treated players?”

“If anyone could do it, it would be him.”

“You know they’re talking about canceling the Games?” I ask him. “I don’t know which would be worse. Them being canceled, or all of us continuing but having to worry about them being rigged.”

For a second, there’s only silence as we look at each other with concern in our eyes.

Then my fox smells one of our own. I crane my neck to see O’Malley Senior approaching us.

He leans to tell me in a respectfully low voice, “My brother is back at the camp.”

Tension swells in me, making my eyebrows pull down as I nod to O’Malley Senior to lead me to him.

***

He’s okay. Relieved, I’m so fucking relieved, I think as I pull my head down to walk out of O’Malley Junior’s tent. I don’t know how, but they’ve even managed to get his arms to grow back.

Once I’m outside, I stand straight and I slowly take in a lungful of the sweet autumn breeze. It’s coming from the shimmering lake that’s sprawling before me in all its late-afternoon glory, I can smell mouth-watering cooking all around me, I see some Grimms hanging out with our own…

And it seems no one will be losing any limbs today. To make it even better, judging by O’Malley Junior’s words, there was no foul play between the teams whatsoever. His wolf smelled nothing different about the magic coming from the balls while it was all happening.

His theory? It was just part of the Game. And the Games are known to be brutal.

I let the joy wash over me, my mouth cracking into a grin as I say hi to all my pack members buzzing around the camp.

“Hey, Boss,” Gleason calls out from his cozy chair by a campfire, “why don’t you join us for dinner tonight?”

“Going for a little walk first.”

It’s been stressful and I really need some alone time, I think as I head over to the lakeshore. It’s my solemn intention to forget about it all, at least for a second.

And the closer I get to the line of reefs bordering the clear, blue water, the more convinced I am I’ll be able to get exactly what I want.

But when I reach them and look down into the water, it’s not my own eyes I see. It’s someone else’s. A little vixen’s.

And just like that, I find myself flooded with echoes of impressions — her creamy white skin, that sexy fucking voice, the way she moved…

And it’s the first time this entire afternoon that my fox makes his presence known. You know, he starts in this strange voice, if you went walking around the grounds right now, you’d probably bump into her.

It feels like a cold shower, him shedding light on what I’m thinking about. “So what?” I demand.

I just want a whiff, that’s all.

I roll my eyes. “You already got one.”

Dahrian, he warns, making my ears prick up. He almost never addresses me using my actual name. It’s mostly ‘boy’ he calls me.

“Yes?” I ask.

Don’t play dumb with me.

“You’re not getting to smell the girl again.”

It’s a complex scent, he urges. Taking a single whiff is just not enough. Some things you need to savor a little. He pauses for a second. But that’s where you come in, he says in this conspiratorial tone. You chat her up a little, you know, like you do, I get a few more whiffs and that’s it.

“Nope,” I tell him.

He stays silent for a second. When he speaks again, his voice is vibrating with a low growl. You’re actually insisting on refusing me, boy?

I don’t let him get to me. I stay determined. “Yes, I am, and with good reason.”

You need me.

“I do, yes,” I say with a sigh. “But she’s a fucking princess, she’s engaged, and we have more important stuff to do than go around trying to fucking smell her.”

There’s a long moment of silence before he tells me through gritted teeth. Then we’ll just have to see how you fare at the Second Game.

I let out a scoff, fighting an urge to throw my hands up. “Threatening me, really?”

But he doesn’t say anything. He slinks back into the shadows, throwing his sulking in my face.

My blood suddenly boiling with frustration, I throw myself on a soft patch of grass between two reef bushes, so I can still watch the lake.

What the fuck is going on with my fox? I’m usually so in control of him.

There are things people generally misunderstand about shifters, alphas especially. Hell, even shifters tend to misunderstand them. Trying to become stronger, they focus on building muscle and making themselves as deadly as possible.

But that’s not it, where a shifter’s power resides. We’re like two halves of the Moon, one light and one dark, just like our sigil. It makes us… powerful but unpredictable, I think as my eyes sweep over the calm surface of the deep lake before me.

That’s why it’s the control that matters. And perhaps counterintuitively, the more in control an alpha is, the fiercer he can be in his shifted form. Aggression alone gets you nowhere.

And usually, I ruminate as I pluck blades of grass from the moist ground below me, I’m in control. Besides Brogan and my mother, I’ve never met anyone more in control. Life has offered me quite a few valuable lessons and I’ve made sure to sear them all into my brain. And that is why I was chosen to be the alpha of my pack despite my age generally being considered too young, not because of my muscles.

That’s more for the ladies, I think with a smile.

But that’s exactly my concern. The ladies. I frown and I accidentally rip an entire clump of grass from the ground.

Sure, Shadowscape girl is a curious one.

But I’ve been with so many women in my life.

So why’s he acting as if he’s never smelled one?

Especially now that we have my family’s future hanging in the balance. I don’t want anyone else get unnecessarily hurt, but what happens if they really cancel the Games? If I don’t get the Professorship, I won’t be able to move them to the Academy. And then what, I think with a frown. Will they be forced to watch their land die right in front of their eyes? And where will they go once it does?

“Dahrian,” I hear someone call out. “Hey, Dahrian.” My head snaps back and I see Fiona rushing to where I’m sitting. I jump up and I turn around to face her.

She’s a little breathless when she grins at me. “It’s done,” she says in an excited voice.

I nudge her to speak.

“They won’t be canceling the Games.” She flashes me a smile. They’re unpausing them.”

My mouth cracks into a grin. “Well, isn’t that grand?” I say as I come clap her on the back.

And it is. It gives me the chance to fix everything. Right now, there are sixty four players left in the Games. Forty two of ours and twenty two of theirs.

I only have to make sure we keep winning like that.

Chapter 7 - Nyx

“Miss Romanov,” Uncle’s raspy voice calls out, making my eyes snap up from the book I’m reading.

He’s standing in front of the pulpit in the classroom lit solely by the fading afternoon sun, the shadows making his frown appear even deeper. “It’s the first class of the year and you’re already not paying attention?”

Quickly, I close the book shut and pop it on the shelf under the table. “I apologize, Professor Schwarz,” I say, suddenly aware of everyone’s eyes on me. Sadly, Uncle’s class, Blood Magic Level Three, is a popular one so there are a lot of them.

I press my lips tight and I take my pen in my hand to pretend to take notes in the open notebook before me.

“That’s more like it,” Uncle says and goes back to pacing the room, talking about the influence of the purity of a vampire’s blood on the efficacy of Blood Magic.

I shrug the momentary embarrassment off and I smile, my eyes lingering on him for a second. It’s something I’ve always liked about him. How he doesn’t let our blood bond deter him from treating me like everyone else. And he’s right. Yesterday, we had the Game, but today, the actual classwork is starting.

But my mind stays on Uncle. it makes me frown, wondering what he’d say if he knew why I wasn’t paying attention. If he knew what book I had under the table and why. Would I be able to explain to him that it’s nothing personal? That I just have to be careful, especially considering no one else in the family seems to be willing to put in the effort?

And I know this is neither the time nor the place for this, but I’m having such a busy day. Max will be picking me up almost right after class and we’ll be forced to spend the evening with the Viscount and his sons in some blatant attempt at sucking up.

Which means I really have to do this now, I think as I very subtly slide my hand under the table and crack the book open again, resting it on my thighs.

The book has one of those long, dry titles, The Romanov Dynasty from the 19th to the 20th century, but it’s anything but boring.

It tells the tale of our family from the time of Catherine the Great to Mother’s time and it’s full of stories of coups, incest, assassinations, mental illness and religious fanaticism.

But it’s Uncle I’m focusing on right now. And there’s nothing tying him to the Games or the Fiáin Academy in any meaningful way other than him being the Guardian of the Obscura. He seems to have devoted his life to teaching Blood Magic here, corresponding with professors from across the world. Not exactly the profile of someone preparing to destroy said Academy’s attempts to renew old alliances.

I frown as soon as it occurs to me. Could it be the issue of ‘real’ Romanovs?

I look up from the book and straight at him, observing him as he keeps teaching his class.

I was told the story many, many times. The story of Katerina Romanova and her love marriage. It was the seventeenth century and families, ours in particular, were a lot more conservative than they are today. Her decision to marry for love angered the family so much, they ended up trying to kill her. They failed, but they did succeed in disinheriting her. It was only in the late 18th century that they took her family under their wing again.

The Schwarzes.

And over the centuries, they did end up getting recognized as part of the extended family. But you only need to see Hilde’s face when the topic gets broached to realize how fickle that status is.

She’s never said anything, but I could always tell she’s not indifferent to not being a ‘real’ Romanov.

I frown as I watch Uncle walk up to the blackboard to write something in his elegant, but entirely illegible handwriting.

He’s never shown any signs of being butthurt about it all, but who knows what hides inside a person’s heart?

Maybe now that he’s getting older, it’s starting to bother him. Maybe he wants to write another page in our history books so that he may seal his legacy as a ‘real’ Romanov.

I frown. But why choose this? It seems so random and not all that significant, messing with the outcome of the Games. Besides, even if he is up to something and even if it works, it’s not like he’d be going around boasting about it.

Maybe it’s the old grudge after all?

I let out a frustrated sigh and keep reading about what happened during the Umbrage, focused on spotting anything to do with the Schwarzes.

But the book, like every single one I’ve ever read on the topic, practically only mentions the two Kings at the time — our Peter the Great and their Cathal O’Connor — going into tiresome detail on how they led their armies against each other after the clash at the Games.

And it was a brutal war that impacted most royal families of the time, but still, not a single mention of the Schwarzes.

Desperate, I even go online to get more information on the sources used in writing the book.

It’s then that I spot something unusual. But before I let myself get excited, I rush to check if my impression is correct.

It is.

There are tons of sources for all years leading up to the war and following it. Except for the years 1865 and 1866.

Odd, I think to myself. Very, very odd.

And I look up, frowning as I fix my eyes ahead, but it’s at that exact moment that the bell sounds from the hallway.

And just like that, there’s the usual chaos all around me, Uncle giving us our next week’s assignment while everyone rushes to get their bags ready so they can dart out as soon as they can.

I write the assignment down, I throw the book in my bag, sling it over my shoulder and start marching.

I only have half an hour before Max said he’d pick me up. And he’s a busy man so he’s generally at least an hour late, but once I’m dressed, that’ll give me some more time to do my research.

I rush out of the classroom, down to the Elevator and up to my room in Lilith Tower. I don’t waste any time choosing which of the twenty one fucking dresses I’ll be putting on today. I just pick one at random and squeeze myself into it as quickly as I can.

And there’s so many buttons, l end up cursing the damn thing out loud, but I do it.

And I rush down the stairs and into the Common Room, happy to see I’ll have at least fifteen minutes to do some more reading.

But as soon as my boots hit the Common Room floor, I spot my brother seemingly waiting for someone.

And as soon as he smells me and turns around to face me, I realize that that person is me.

He throws me a huge, plaintive smile as he rushes to meet me, just like he always does when he has a ‘little favor’ to ask.

“What is it?” I ask with a frown.

“Just a little favor I need you to do for me.”

“Spit it out.”

“Meet up with my new shifter buddy and show him around a little.”

For a second, I just look at him. Then I throw my hands up in the air and say, “Bloody hell, Nikolay. Why did you sign up for the damn thing if you don’t want to do it?”

“I do,” he insists. “It’s a real honor to be picked.”

I shake my head at him. “You can’t volunteer to do something and then pressure someone else into doing it for you.”

“I have a date, Nyx,” he keeps trying to win me over with a sad voice. “And she’s the most perfect girl you’ve ever seen.”

I let out a scoff. I know exactly how things go with his ‘most perfect girls.’

But it’s puppy eyes he’s fucking giving me. Puppy eyes.

“Ugh,” I groan. And I roll my eyes and I shake my head, but then I nod. “But I’m only doing it this once. The rest of the year, it’s just you and your Fiáin Academy buddy.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he exclaims. And he literally bounces up and down with delight, making me blow a laugh through my nose.

“Okay, fucker, leave then,” I tell him with a smile.

“Will do,” he replies and starts rushing away, only craning his neck to throw, “His name is Howe and he’ll be waiting for you by the Brothers Grimm statue.”

Alright then, I think as he disappears out of the Common Room. If I’m efficient, I’ll probably be able to get this over with even before Max shows up.

***

As I leave the Common Room for the Entrance Hall — where the Brothers Grimm statue is — I walk by the tall, gilded mirror hanging on the wall just before the archway leading to the staircase.

And I normally don’t throw a single glance in its direction, but today is different. Because it just now occurs to me that this will be the first time I’m going somewhere with Max in the official fiance capacity.

So before I start making my way down the stairs, I pause in front of the mirror, just for a second. I don’t let myself linger on my reflection. It’s good enough, I think as I drag my eyes down my dress.

It’s good enough, I keep trying to convince myself as I tear myself away from the mirror and force myself to keep walking.

And step by step, I’m making my way down to the Elevator Door waiting on the ground floor of the tower. But the image of me as I saw myself in the mirror keeps haunting me.

Even the perfectly tailored burgundy dress with the detailing in Robin-egg blue can’t hide how little I resemble your usual princess. My body is hopelessly curveless and my face persistently tomboyish.

I reach the Elevator and I go in, pressing the button for the Entrance Hall. And I do manage to fight the urge to conjure up images to torture myself with, images of all the other Princesses, each more beautiful and feminine than the last.

But what I don’t manage to fight off is the image of Max, drunk at some party I can no longer remember properly, talking about one of them as if she were the embodiment of fucking perfection. Her and her huge tits. I asked him, once the party was over, if he liked them more than he liked mine. And he said of course not, but he hesitated a little.

So when the Elevator Door opens, I’m still self-conscious and a little grumpy.

I step out, the sound of my boots clicking against the polished stone floor getting drowned out by many others. I keep walking towards my destination, scanning the faces all around me as I go.

I slow to a stop as soon as I spot him.

That alpha standing among the buzzing students, leaned against the statue with one boot casually lifted to the lowest step. He’s typing on his phone, the muscles in those big tattooed arms flexed in a way that evokes images of deadly weapons.

But there’s a tag on his shirt that my eyes get drawn to. I zero in on it. Howe, it says Howe.

Of course that Nikolay would get the alpha assigned to him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I curse as I suddenly become even more self-conscious, with the stupid dress and the stupid body and the stupid face.

For a second, I consider turning on my heel and walking away.

But then he looks up, as if he’s sensed me watching, and he tears himself away from the statue, his head tilting as he slides his phone in his pocket and keeps standing there, looking at me.

I find myself moving toward him again. And this might not be pleasant for either of us, I think as I see his eyebrows pull down in what has to be irritation. After all, we haven’t exactly started off on the right foot.

But what’s done is done, I guess. And he’s a guest here and I need to make him feel welcome, I think to myself as I keep approaching him. So I force myself to shake it off and smile, however tensely.

***

When I come to stand in front of him, I see his frown disappear, but it doesn’t make me feel any less nervous because he’s still observing me too intently, his head tilted in a silent question.

Without ever consciously making the decision, I choose to ignore our first interaction ever even happened. “Hi,” I say, “I’ve been sent to show you around.” And I hold my hand out for a shake. “I’m Anastasya, nice to meet you.”

Why did I do that? I hate that name.

For a second, I think he’s going to say, “Yeah, we’ve already met.”

And his eyes narrow, but then a smile tugs at his lips and he takes my hand, saying, “Dahrian Howe. The pleasure’s all mine.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. And it’s firm and gentle at the same time, his shake. Still smiling, he keeps looking at me as I pull my hand out. Then his eyes dart to the ring.

He clears his throat, turning serious. There’s a second of silence before he says, “I was told there’d be a Nikolay coming to meet me.”

“My brother,” I reply with a nod. “He’s busy so he sent me.” Then it occurs to me. “And sorry if I’m late, this was a last-minute change of plans.” I glance around the crowded Hall, shrugging my shoulders as I turn my eyes back onto him. “Also, my fiance will be picking me up soon, so I might not have as much time as I normally would.”

“Ah yeah,” he says with a tip of his head, “I’ve heard about the royal engagement. Congratulations,” he adds, giving me a smile. Then he looks around as well, turning serious again. “But I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I can just go chill somewhere and get to know the place at my own pace.”

“No,” I tell him, shaking my head, “someone has to show you around.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he says with a slight smile.

I just look at him for a second. “It’s the rules.”

His eyes narrow. “Ah,” he says softly. “Well, if that’s the case...” Smiling, he gestures for me to lead the way.

And for some reason, they make me self-conscious, the look and the smile, as if there was something unspoken there.

But I just nod, saying, “Yeah, let’s get started.” And I turn on my heel and start walking across the Entrance Hall and in the direction of Level One, avoiding the students passing by and sensing him fall into step with me.

It’s only once we’ve almost passed the archway that it occurs to me he might not even know the basics. And I slow down to motion at it. “So, that right there is the cafeteria,” I tell him.

I move to pick up the pace again, motioning ahead, “And right over there—”

It surprises me, when he walks around me, blocking my way with his large frame. “Wait,” he starts with a smile, “aren’t we taking a look inside?”

I frown. “What for? It’s a standard cafeteria.”

He throws me a funny little look, his eyebrows shooting up. “Really?” he asks as this smile dances on his lips. He motions at the fountains. “And what’re those?”

It makes me press my lips tight. “Soda fountains,” I admit, however begrudgingly. “They’re soda fountains.”

He blows a laugh through his nose. And it makes my cheeks burn, having my privilege checked like that.

But then he just says, “It’s fine, we don’t have to go in.” He gives me a smile, “I’m putting myself in your hands.”

For a second, I just look at him. “Perfect,” I finally say, feeling myself turn a bit colder.

And I continue moving across the Entrance Hall, him coming to walk beside me again. Feeling this need to cut the tour as short as possible, I start calculating the most effective route to get it done.

“So,” I say as soon as we reach the stairs to the gallery and start climbing them, “we have four levels here at the Academy. Right now, we’re climbing to Level One.”

It’s at that exact moment that my vampiric hearing registers something. I stop and I don’t turn to look at him, but I hold my right hand out so he’ll stop as well, saying, “Watch out.”

He does, and the next thing I know, I see this mini water torrent coming straight at us from Level One.

We both rush to glue ourselves to the left side of the staircase railing as this fae guy barges out of one of the hallways above, rushing down as he uses his Runes to turn the water into vapor, shouting, “Sorry sorry sorry.”

There are snickers all around us, and I’m lifting my dress, the hem of which has been soaked through, but then my eyes get drawn to my right, where Howe is standing on a lower step, his eyes on the soaked hem.

He looks up, that smile dancing on his lips again, the one that makes me feel as if he’s holding something back.

I tear my eyes away, going back to climbing.

“What year are you in?” I hear him ask as he catches up with me.

It makes me frown. “Third.”

But we’re stepping onto the gallery and I don’t want to be engaging in any unnecessary chit-chat, so I change the subject, motioning at the web of hallways to the right. “I don’t know which classes in particular you’re taking this year, but most of them will be held somewhere in these hallways.”

“Are you taking Theory of Magic?” he asks. “I’m in Level Three this year.”

“Level Four,” I say as I keep leading us down the gallery.

I feel the need to glance at him, finding his eyebrows raised at me.

“They let me advance so I could take some extra courses my final year,” I explain, but then I turn my focus back onto the task at hand. I motion to my right. “Now, your professors’ offices are mostly located in Grimm Tower…”

I stop to peer into one of the hallways, a little helplessly. “But right here, somewhere, you’ll find Professor Dunne.”

I turn my eyes back onto him, explaining, “He likes to move around.”

But I find him inspecting one of the empty suits of armor displayed along the walls.

“What’s this?” he asks as he throws me a glance, pointing at the crest. “It says Romanov. Is this your family’s?”

“It is,” I say, and I move to keep walking.

I stop as soon as I realize he’s not following.

I frown as I turn to look at him, finding him inspecting the painting next to the suit. “This, too?”

I have to fight not to let out a sigh. “Look,” I say as I walk back up to him, trying not to sound annoyed, “I’m glad to see you’re finding the Academy interesting, but if we stop to take a look at every little thing, we’ll never be done.”

His eyebrows shoot up. Then his lips curl into a smirk. “Alright, I’ll behave.” And he pauses for a second before he drags his eyes down my dress. “Your Highness.”

It makes me want to gouge his eyes out. Instead, I ignore his little stab, I take a deep breath, I say, “Good,” and I keep going down the gallery, headed straight for the elevator that’ll lead us to Level Minus Three.

I sense him try to catch up with me, but my mind is still buzzing from the way he just blatantly mocked the way I look in this fucking outfit, so I pick up the pace so we’re not walking side by side.

I listen to him fall into step somewhere behind me, a little to the right. As we walk, I try to focus on taking the most efficient route. But every couple of fucking seconds, I see some girl eyeing him, a lot of them either shyly or openly seductively saying hi to him. I roll my eyes and I keep walking, choosing to ignore everything but the task at hand.

Then, after a couple of long moments of silence, I start to hear this soft, playful sound from behind my back.

Whistling.

Frowning, I slow down a little, my head snapping back to him.

He keeps walking, but he stops whistling, his eyebrows shooting up and his lips curling into a smile as he mouths, “What?”

“Nothing,” I snap and I turn my eyes back ahead.

But now my ears are burning.

It’s just as we’re almost in front of the elevator that I sense him get closer, his arm brushing mine for a split second when he leans to ask, “Where’re we going, if you don’t mind me asking?

I only throw him a side-eye glance. “A former classroom on Level Minus Three.”

He darts around me to block my way again, making me stop midstep. He has his hands in his pockets, his head tilted at me. “Why there?”

It makes me frown, his question, as well as the fact I notice how broad his shoulders are. “What we need to do next,” I tell him in my most official voice, “is cover all the Restricted Areas. Then I’m going to show you around the administrative offices, so you know where to go in case of any problems—”

“How ‘bout this?” he asks with an amused smile. “If I ever find myself in administrative trouble, I’ll just ask someone to point me in the right direction. Would that work?”

I feel a need to protest, but this kind of thing is something every student around here would know about. “I guess.”

And just as I’m about to open my mouth to say that that doesn’t solve the issue of Restricted Areas, he says, “As for Restricted Areas, there are currently three of them, right?

Squinting, I open my mouth to answer him, but his question turns out to be a rhetorical one.

“The Level Minus Three classroom,” he starts listing, “which is being purged of Malefica plant, the basement in Ydril Tower that’s still under investigation, and the Sobbing Lake itself — at least past the shallow, right?”

“How do you know all that?” I ask.

He just looks at me for a second, then lets out a little scoff. “Our Academy has bad blood with yours, not a single member of my pack has ever been here, and we’ve committed to spending an entire year with you. You didn’t think I’d do my research?” He pauses for a second, his eyebrows raising at me. “You do know that I’m the Fiáin alpha?

And he flashes me this hot, a little incredulous but hot smile.

For a moment, I just keep staring back at him, feeling myself starting to blush.

“I do, and point taken,” I say, fighting to keep my voice flat. “But then, I guess you don’t really need me.”

And I prepare to start saying bye, feeling a little relieved at the thought of this being over.

But he just clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Oh I wouldn’t go that far. There’s still plenty for you to show me.”

“Like what?”

He glances around then turns to lock eyes with me again, the smile back on his face. It’s just that this time, it’s a daring one. “Anything fun.”

The way he says it, it just makes my heart flutter a little.

I guess it can’t hurt, I think to myself.

“Alright,” I reply with a straight face. “Follow me.”

I don’t wait for his reaction. I turn on my heel and I start leading him to the hallways on the other side of the Entrance Hall, where some of the more interesting gyms are located. But now, it’s even harder to pay no attention to the steady, confident sound of his boots hitting the floor, or that skilled, soft whistling behind my back.

Gods, I think as I walk into the first hallway, still feeling that flutter in my chest, he’s seriously charming. Like, in a way that’s really hard to ignore.

Player, I remind myself, he’s a player and he’s good because this is the kind of effect he has on people. It’s as simple as that.

I just didn’t think he’d have it on me.

I clear my throat, making myself snap out of it just as we turn the corner and enter the hallway I’m bringing him to. There are sounds of muffled footfalls, blows and cursing echoing against the walls. I turn to face Howe and I gesture for him to take a peek through the first archway.

He walks up to it and looks inside. And he almost instantly turns to beam at me. “Fucking hell.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. He walks through the archway and I follow him, the fading sunlight hitting my face as soon as I step into the room. It’s wide, that’s for sure, but the width is a fifth of its length. And all along its left and right walls, there are tall windows enchanted to show the sky outside, the walls between them hidden from sight by the trees spurting out of the ground.

I turn my eyes back onto Howe, who’s already on his way to the first obstacle in the obstacle course stretching before us — the enchanted climbing wall.

I rush after him, but before I can stop him, he’s already grabbing onto one of the climbing holds and pushing himself up.

I step to the side, opening my mouth to warn him, but before I can say a word, the wall shoots out the first stake. Then another one. And another one. And it’s at random, but it only takes one to hit you.

My eyebrows shooting up, I watch him waste no time in adjusting, seemingly sensing which spot the next stake will shoot out of and letting himself hang using one arm every time the wall attacks again.

Somewhere halfway up the wall, he even takes the time to throw me a grin as he hangs, his shirt riding up to reveal the defined, delicious lines of his abs.

I let out an annoyed scoff, but then something occurs to me. And I have to suppress a smile, but I walk straight up to the wall to my right and I pull on the lever controlling the difficulty level.

And I turn back to His Hotness, seeing his eyebrows shoot up right before he lets himself drop to the ground, a bunch of stakes shooting out at once as soon as his boots hit the floor.

Fuck, maybe I went overboard. Maybe he won’t find it funny.

He pushes himself up, pulls his shirt down and starts walking up to me, but to my surprise, he’s not pissed. He’s grinning.

“Hey,” he starts in a teasing voice as he slows to a stop in front of me, his eyes narrowing, “I see how it is.”

“It’s just what you get for showing off,” I tell him, feeling this flutter and fighting the urge to smile.

Chapter 8 - Dahrian

There’s a flutter in my stomach when I see that little smile tug at her lips.

“Why don’t you try it?” I dare her. “Or better yet, why don’t we both do the entire obstacle course? See who’s better.”

Her eyes narrowing, she folds her arms. “It would only discourage you,” she says in a snarky voice, “me wiping the floor with you for the second time in two days.”

It makes my smile wider.

Give her a little shove on the shoulder, my fox urges.

I ignore him. Instead, I get a little closer, leaning in to say in a low, teasing voice, “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

For a second, she just looks at me. Then, like the flip of a switch, she turns cold. “That’s not what we’re here for,” she snaps, like a prickly little ball of fire. “Come on, I’ll show you the Main Hall and then you’re free to go.”

She turns around and starts walking out of the gym.

I move to follow her, needing more of what I just got. Struggling to keep my distance as we go back the same way we got here, I allow myself to throw a little glance at her here and there. Giving some student a barely noticeable nod in greeting, swaying left to evade a professor appearing out of thin air, throwing a look over her shoulder to check whether I’m still here. Or just show she’s not forgotten about me as we go back down yet another staircase in silence.

Who manages to look just as good in a plain uniform and a ridiculously elaborate dress like that?

Call her Your Highness again, that seems to get her worked up.

“Will you shut the fuck up,” I warn him.

I really can’t have him make a fool out of me right now. So I raise the barrier between us a little higher.

But if I just keep letting her lead, she’ll show me the Main Hall and that’ll be it.

Then it occurs to me, and I find myself falling into step with her. And I notice her tense up so I back away a little before I say, “You know, I’ve heard about this room in the Academy that’s not restricted, but has some forbidden magic cast on it.”

She doesn’t stop marching. She just throws me a look. It’s in a cordial but stern voice that she says, “There are a million places like that. And I’m not taking you to any of them.”

And she keeps marching. But I can’t seem to stop myself from poking at her, trying to get another reaction out of the little vixen in the elaborate dress marching in front of me. So I get a little closer to say, “Sorry, forgot I was talking to a princess.”

She stops and turns to face me, frowning. “I’m not a princess yet.”

I drag my eyes down her dress, no longer suppressing the snicker as I say, “I only know what I see.”

My eyebrows shoot up when she gets in my face. “You know, this is not how I normally dress,” she tells me in a voice much less flat than a second ago. “I have a formal dinner and this is just the kind of thing you wear to a formal dinner.”

Wow. Sure touched a nerve there. But looking at the flush on her cheeks… ‘Twas worth it, I think with a smile.

I rush to follow her as soon as she starts walking again. “So a formal dinner, you say?” I ask, finding myself in desperate need of more information. “What do you do at one of those? Is it as fun as it sounds?” I ask sarcastically.

She turns to shoot me an annoyed glance. “Not everything is about fun.”

“Are you always this prickly?” I ask as I follow her down the last flight of stairs and back into the Entrance Hall.

“Only when I’m being asked stupid questions. Otherwise, I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

And she throws me a look that makes my blood rush around a little, my fox poking his nose through my barriers.

And just as he’s about to get a whiff of her, she turns left and I follow her through an archway into a massive common room.

“There,” she says, in a flat yet a little pissed-off voice, as my eyes sweep across the huge yet somehow cozy space, “the Main Hall.”

Slowly, I spin around to take it all in, the old stone walls covered in ancient tapestries, the tall stained glass windows, the comfy, colorful armchairs and couches all around me.

“It’s where we come to waste time between classes,” I hear her say, less pissed-off this time. “There’s always people here ready to play a game and sometimes we throw parties, mostly on Fridays.”

I turn my eyes back to her just as this soft ping sounds from her clutch. She opens it to look inside, the screen of her phone glowing as she checks her messages.

I probably won’t see her again, except at the Games.

“You know,” I start as soon as she looks up at me again, not giving her a chance to say she has to leave, “I’ll forgive you for calling my questions stupid…” I pause, watching a little frown start creasing her forehead. I motion in the direction of the gym. “But you also didn’t want to give me the rematch that you owe me. And that I do take offense to.”

Her frown grows deeper as she shakes her head. “The rematch that I owe you? What’re you even talking about?”

I take a step closer, my lips curling into a smile. And I drop my voice a little. “Well, it was a great performance, the one you put on for me yesterday.” I pause for effect. “But you did manipulate me, so you couldn’t call it fair, the way you played.”

“Well, who fucking started it?” she says with an angry scoff.

I just shrug my shoulders, my smile growing wider at the sight of her big, dark eyes narrowing at me. “I never said I didn’t. I just said we needed a rematch.”

“Show up for the Second Game,” she snaps, albeit a bit less grumpily, “and you’ll get one.”

“That’s, like, months from now,” I protest.

It’s just at that moment that I hear someone clear their throat and my head snaps to my left, to the man standing next to one of the armchairs, his eyes narrowed as they dart between the two of us.

The prince. The fiance.

“Max,” I hear her call out, softly and sweetly, and he fixes his eyes on her as she walks over to him with a smile lighting up her face.

The voice and the smile, the likes of which I haven’t heard or seen so far, make this bitterness flood my mouth.

“I’m not late, am I?” she asks as she loops her arm through his.

But it’s me he turns to look at as he says, coldly, “It’s fine.”

It’s then that she clears her throat and gestures at me. “Max, this is Howe, Nikolay’s Fiáin buddy.”

We shake hands, locking eyes and exchanging one cold look as she says, “Howe, this is Max, one of our best players.”

“And your fiance,” he cuts in, throwing her this look.

I see the confusion on her face and I feel myself nudged to say, “Yeah, I know.”

The fiance locks eyes with me and just looks at me for a second, and it makes my jaw clench, the effort I have to put in to stop myself from showing exactly how much I don’t like him.

“Well,” I hear her say and I turn to look at her, seeing her get all awkward and a little pissed as she throws a glance at him, “I guess we’ll be going.”

She turns her eyes back onto me as I keep standing there, my mind buzzing.

“My brother,” she starts, still awkward though neither pissed nor cold, “he’ll be there to take you to every Game, and if you have any questions for him, just shoot him a text.”

I nod and I wave, feeling the fiance’s eyes on me, and there’s a tentative smile on her lips as she adds, “Good luck with everything.”

I watch them turn around and walk away. With every step she takes, my spirits get lower. And I can’t help thinking, especially considering that enormous rock on her finger, how the hell did I manage to forget about the fucking fiance?

Chapter 9 - Nyx

It seems this will be a typical November day, at least judging by the view out the windows enchanted to show the castle grounds — a blend of muted grays and greens, bare branches and wind tugging at everything it can lay its ghostly fingers on.

But it’s going to be a good one, I think as I turn my focus back onto the comforting sounds, smells and sights of the cafeteria — metal against ceramic, garlic on bread, students buzzing around with trays in their hands.

Right now, I’ve no intention of joining Nikolay and Hilde’s conversation. Still, their low but lively chatter provides such a pleasant background and allows me to observe the people around me in peace. I watch two groups, one Grimm and one Fiáin, push two tables together so they can hang out while eating.

It makes me smile. It’s been almost a month since the First Game and the Academy is buzzing with people who’ve already put the unpleasantness behind them. At least judging by the way they’re mingling, I think as I fix my eyes on one of the Fiáins leaning to say something to one of the Grimms. She throws her head back in laughter.

Oh I wish the Second Game was now, I think to myself, excitement flooding my body at the very thought. Right now, at least judging by the bets, people are rooting for either Max or Howe. But I'll be changing their minds if it's the last thing I do.

As I think that, my eye gets drawn to one of the Fiáins, a tall, muscled guy, getting up to go grab something. And for a second, I think it’s Howe. And my heart skips a beat and then keeps violently pounding in my chest, leaving me confused by the intensity of the reaction.

In the past two months, I’ve learned it’s his fox all the Fiáins have tattooed. I’ve been hearing girls talk about him in hushed voices. I’ve even seen his name on a bathroom wall. Dahrian Howe is the best lay ever, said the writing with hearts dotting the Is.

But I’ve only seen him a couple of times, from a distance. He doesn’t seem to have any classes with me and we haven’t exchanged a single word since I showed him around the Academy.

So why do I keep fearing I’ll bump into him?

I shake my head and force myself to shift my attention back onto brother and Hilde. The two of them seem to be talking about the next challenge.

“I think there will have to be monsters in the next one,” Nikolay says with conviction on his face and grease around his mouth. “Like that giant sea snake they found on Lord Hartmann’s estate.” And he takes another bite of his chicken leg.

Hilde glances between the two of us, unease written all over her face. “I don’t know about that.” Must be terrified at the very thought, considering she’s not being as eager to agree as usual. “It’s hard to get a license to use a creature like that nowadays. What do you think, Nyx?” she asks with a plea in her eyes.

“I think,” I say as I push my plate away and start getting up, “my guess won’t get you any closer to the right answer whatsoever. But I really need to get going.”

“Where are you running off to?” Nikolay asks with a frown. “I thought we’d play Shufflesnake.”

“I’m helping Max train and then I have some work to do.”

“Isn’t this your first day off in like forever?” he insists.

I roll my eyes and then throw him a sour smile. “Not having classes or formal dinners to attend doesn’t mean I can just spend the rest of the day getting stoned and playing video games.”

“Fuck,” he says in a mocking voice, “you’re so funny, sis. Please, would you do another bit for us?”

I just shake my head, wave to Hilde and walk out of the cafeteria.

It is my day off, I think as I start making my way to Max’s quarters in Lilith Tower. It’s part of the reason I’m excited, having an entire afternoon for myself. As soon as I’m done training with Max, I’ll go back to the Library and pick up where I left off with my research.

Tingles rush up my spine as I think about the last thing I realized, that day in Uncle’s class.

Hell yes, I think as I walk down the Entrance Hall. Today, I’ll be checking if it’s really true. That our family didn’t have a leader for two whole years after the Umbrage.

Fucking can’t wait.

But just as I come to a stop in front of the Elevator, my phone pings.

A text from Nikolay. “Forgot what day it is today. Would you mind going to the party without me?”

I frown. “What party?”

As soon as I start reading the reply, my blood pressure goes through the roof. “Howe’s having a party at their camp tonight. I told him we’d come.”

For a second, I have trouble articulating everything that’s wrong with this. But then I start furiously typing a reply. “You can’t sign me up for something without asking me first, Nikolay. Besides, this buddy thing is your responsibility, not mine.”

“Fine, then we won’t go,” he types back. “Some of the guys from Lefevre are coming to Bloodholm tonight. I need to be there.”

That makes me blow out a frustrated breath. “No, you need to be at that party because there needs to be at least one Romanov there. We were asked by the fucking Pied Piper herself to help keep the peace, Nikolay.”

“I’m aware, thanks, but why can’t it be you, Nyx?” he types. “You know where their camp is and you know how I feel about the lake, don’t you?”

“The mermaids have signed a binding contract. There won’t be a single peep from them.”

“I’m already stoned. I’ll only embarrass us.”

Now, what I really want to reply is, “And that thought never crossed your mind before you got stoned?” But I don’t. I just say, “No, I’m not going and that’s that.”

Why am I this adamant, I think to myself. But I just shrug it off.

It’ll be fine. I’ll ask Max to go, I think to myself. Max is worth at least two Romanovs.

My brother doesn’t reply. Sulking, he’s fucking sulking. For one long moment, I just stare at our chat. Then I force myself to look up, letting out a frustrated breath.

The Elevator door opens and it snaps me out of it, when I see a couple of students walk out.

I step inside and I push the button for Max’s quarters, the one he got specially made.

My teeth are gritting even after the door opens and I see Max standing in his hallway, waiting for me in his training clothes, a smile on his lips.

At least this will be fun, I tell myself as I let out a pent-up breath.

***

“Ten minutes early this time,” he says as I step out of the hallway. “Good girl,” he adds as I give him a peck on the cheek.

It makes my eyebrows pull down.

Ever since I was late meeting him for that dinner — when I had to show Howe around — he’s been prickly about this.

“I’m always as punctual as I can be,” I reply with tension in my voice. And I push past him and through the door into his modern-looking gym.

I hear him let out an amused laugh as he follows me. “Who got you so worked up, cupcake?”

“Brother darling, who else,” I tell him as I stand at the very center of the mostly empty but expertly furnished room. Rubber flooring, perfect lighting, all the tools and equipment you could ever need.

Smiling, Max shakes his head, throws me my vest and walks up to the weapons rack leaned against the wall to my right. “What did he do now?” he asks as he picks up the usual, a light but deadly javelin.

“Oh,” I grumble as I absent-mindedly fiddle with the vest, “just shift all his duties onto me, including the buddy thing.” I pause for a second before I look up to ask, “Max, are you going to the Fiáin’s party tonight?”

He squints at me. “No.”

“Could you? We really need someone from the old families there and Nikolay’s being the usual irresponsible ass.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.” There’s that finality in his tone making it clear I shouldn’t ask again. “I thought the two of you would be there, and I have something more important to deal with.” He walks up to me with an even funnier little squint. “What, you don’t want to go?”

“I don’t,” I say with determination in my voice. “I also have something more important to deal with.”

He gives me a smile. “That makes me happy.”

And the words confuse me, but then he shakes his head again, thinking. “Still, someone needs to be there.” And he locks eyes with me again. “You should go. In and out, you know?”

I think for a second, frowning. He does have a point, so why does it still feel like I shouldn’t?

“But take Hilde with you,” Max adds with that frown on his face, making me snap out of it. “I don’t want you alone there.”

And what I want to say is, “I don’t need a fucking chaperone.”

But that frown, it means his mind is made up. If I protested, we’d probably just end up going in circles over it for gods know how long.

So I just say, “You’re right, Hilde and I will go.”

He nods, throwing me a smile, and I proceed to finally put my vest on. And once I get my head through, I see Max standing in his own spot on the other side of the gym.

And the next thing I know, his eyes are narrowing, making my ears prick up and my muscles clench.

He’s pulling his arm back and he’s launching the javelin straight at me.

I do a back-flip, narrowly avoiding the weapon as it whizzes right above my stomach.

As soon as I land on my feet, he throws another one, rows and rows of them waiting on the weapons rack.

I keep avoiding them, one by one. And as usual, I need to actually work for it, serving as the moving target for one of the top javelin masters in our lands. So I find myself panting heavily within less than thirty minutes.

He suggests a break. I welcome it. I take the bottle of water he throws me and I down it thirstily, my mind instantly wandering to the party I’m being forced to attend.

The very thought gives me nervous flutters. Why am I nervous?

“Can’t we get a move on, cupcake?” Max calls out, javelin in his hand again.

I shake my head. “Yes, of course.”

And I get into the stance and he throws the weapon at me. I dodge. Then I dodge once again.

But as soon as it occurs to me, that I’ll have to go greet the host, I lose sight of the weapon as I run and it ends up hitting me straight in the chest.

The vest just blocks it and the javelin comes falling to the floor with a clear thud, but the impact still sends me crashing to the ground.

“Gotcha,” I hear Max yell out.

I look up from the floor to see the victorious grin on his face.

But when I get up, he’s approaching me with a slight frown on his face. “I said ‘gotcha’. Why are you so distracted?” he asks as he comes to stand in front of me.

For a second, I just look at him. And I don’t want to lie, so my mind goes straight to my former plans for the afternoon. “This research I’m doing,” I finally blurt out.

“What research?” He tilts his head as he wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

I smile and give one back, putting my arms around his neck. “I’m looking into my family’s ties to the Games.”

He frowns, pulling his head back a little. “What for?”

“Well,” I start, thinking, “at first, I did it for precaution. After what happened at the First Game, I just thought it’d be smart. But now, now it’s more about curiosity.”

“That’s nice,” he says, the look on his face growing softer as he leans in for a kiss.

I return it, but my mind is still on the party I’ll be going to later.

“Now,” he mutters, his breathing turning ragged as he closes his hands around my ass, “let’s get you out of those tights.”

I shake my head, not feeling in the mood for sex.

“Come on, cupcake,” he pleads. “How long has it been?”

A week at least, I think to myself.

And he starts pulling my tights down, along with my panties, so I kiss him back and I let him walk me backwards and against the mirrored wall.

His pants down, he lifts me up and keeps kissing me, and I start getting into it, but what takes me by surprise is this sudden desperation for this to be the time I finally get there with him.

And once he gets inside me, it feels so good, but as he grunts into my ear, I know I won’t get the release. I never do. But his thrusts get more intense, making me crave it even more. My mind a blur, I start sliding my hand down my body, like I do when I’m alone.

The very next second, the usual anxiousness floods me, anxiousness at the very thought of him getting upset over it, like he did that once, ages ago.

So instead of indulging my urge, I search for his mouth to kiss him, telling myself we’re in no rush. After all, we’ll have the rest of our lives to figure this out.

***

It’s with my lips pressed tight that I walk with my cousin down to the Sobbing Lake. It’s just past seven o’clock and the sunlight is slowly fading, leaving growing shadows behind.

Hilde tries to start a conversation, but all I give her are one-word answers. There’s a knot in my throat and I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, let alone her. I keep imagining coming to greet him and my tongue getting so tied, I end up not saying anything.

We pass the courtyard and catch the first glimpse of the Sobbing Lake, the very sight making my heart plummet into my stomach.

Oh, fucking stop being so nervous, I tell myself as I force one foot in front of the other. He’s invited everyone at the Academy. You’ll say hi, you’ll slink into the shadows and you’ll disappear the first chance you get.

“Look,” Hilde calls, slowing to a stop a few steps before me.

I welcome the distraction, when I follow her finger and see what they’ve done with the place.

The Sobbing Lake is usually a mournful part of the grounds, seldom visited despite House of Ydril nestling on its shore. When they go out for a breath of fresh air, the faes completely ignore it, just like the rest of us. The mermaids that live in it don’t always sing their song, but you don’t want to find yourself within earshot when they do.

So any other year, the lake would be silent and deserted, with just the wind rustling in the reefs and the mist hanging low above the grass, the plateau and the docks that the Academy built for this specific purpose, back in 1847.

But now, now there’s so much life around it, I think as my eyes sweep over the camp. It was the day our guests arrived that the staff got the plateau set up for them. I went to see it, with the rest of the students, and it sure didn’t look bad, especially with the roomy tents placed in circles around the fire pits. But it wasn’t as welcoming as it feels now, with the students buzzing in and out of the tents and hanging out around the fire pits, cooking, drinking and laughing as the sounds of the crickets mix with the soft sounds of music.

“Let’s go,” Hilde says in an excited whisper as she jabs me in the waist with her elbow and keeps walking.

I force myself to focus and I go after her.

Even before we reach the plateau, students from the camp start whizzing past us, yelling out incomprehensible stuff, playing games I don’t know the rules for.

We keep going, Hilde leading us to where the crowd is loudest and thickest, up the rickety stairs and down the plateau to the biggest fire pit.

It’s there that we stop, my eyes scanning the students’ merry, firelit faces. It looks like they’re all waiting for something, but I don’t know what.

The very next second, I hear some of the people opposite me, on the other side of the empty circle around the fire, start to chant, someone letting out a low wolf whistle. And then I see them shuffle, letting someone through.

Howe. I watch him step out of the crowd and onto the empty circle around the fire with a mischievous smile on his face, two members of his pack trailing him with trays of glasses in their hands.

My stomach drops as he starts going around, handing the alcohol out to students who seem thrilled to receive it.

“Oh I like what’s going on here,” I hear Hilde say from my right, but I keep looking at Howe, my heart pounding in my chest.

“No no,” I hear his voice boom, playful but commanding, when one of the Fiáins moves to throw the alcohol back, “not just yet.”

The guy immediately lowers his glass, obediently but happily so.

“I really hope it’s not whiskey,” Hilde says, but I just let out a soft, “Um-hum,” because he’s served everyone to our left and is now headed straight towards us.

Look away, I tell myself, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his face, that grin lighting up his eyes.

So when they finally land on me, as he stops right in front of us, he finds me staring.

Goddamn it, Nyx, get it together.

“Who do we have here?” he drawls as he throws me a little squint. He hands me a glass and says, “Where’s my buddy?”

“Something came up, but he sends his apologies,” I reply flatly, painfully aware of the fact I still haven’t looked away.

“I’ll start to think he doesn’t exist,” he says with a smile that makes my blood run hotter. “But I’m glad you could come.”

And he turns his attention to Hilde, gives her a glass, gets her giggling with his stupid “I just know you’re going to love this,” and keeps going.

“Where the hell is Ricky?” I hear him ask one of his own.

“Don’t know, Boss.”

Boss? Ugh.

I turn to Hilde, squeezing the glass in my hand and gritting my teeth. What the fuck did he mean by that? I’ll start to think he doesn’t exist. He’s making it sound as if I’m stalking his arrogant ass.

But I guess when you’re His Hotness, you expect everyone to constantly be in fucking awe of you.

“It smells good,” I hear Hilde say, but I’m not really listening.

“Welcome, everyone,” his voice snaps me out of it.

I watch him come to stand near the fire with his own glass in his hand, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. “And a special welcome to all the Grimms we’ve managed to drag out here tonight, despite everything.”

There are sounds of laughing and clapping coming from all around me.

“Now, before we start enjoying ourselves, there’s something I’d like to say. I won’t be long, don’t worry. But the drink you’re about to have…”

He looks around, making sure he has everyone’s attention. He does.

“It’s from one of the last batches my mother ever made,” he finally says, making a low murmur rise from all around the circle and my eyebrows pull down. “Why am I bringing it out tonight?”

I’m still annoyed, but my ears still prick up.

Howe smiles and starts pacing around the fire. “In less than three months, on the day of the Winter Solstice, we’ll have our Second Game. It’ll also be the twelfth anniversary of my mother’s death.”

A pang of sympathy shoots through me and I start watching him even more intently.

“Now, her being one of the most powerful matriarchs in the history of our pack, most of you here have known this story since you were kids. But none of you Grimms do.”

True.

“So twelve years ago,” he keeps going, turning a bit more serious, “back where we come from, things were bad, really really bad. I mean, not as bad as they are now, but worse than they’d ever been before. You probably all know what the Umbrage did to our Academy so I won’t bore you with details. Suffice to say, its Heart never stopped deteriorating and it was making magic in our land scarce, unpredictable and vengeful. But now, now it was starting to make people turn on each other as well.”

Holy shit, I never knew it was that bad.

“Now, my mother wasn’t a softie,” he says with a laugh. “She’s still the toughest, strongest woman I’ve ever known. In the Council Room, she was able to wipe the floor with any man or woman who dared challenge her. On the battle ground, she was able to single-handedly change the course of the events.”

My eyes dart left right, seeing he’s still keeping everyone on their toes. “But these spats and pointless murders… For a while, she just didn’t know what to do about them.”

He pauses for a second, lifting a finger. “Until one day, twelve years ago, she used her mother’s tricks and made a dozen barrels of this. And she ordered all the towns and villages under the Academy’s wing to host at least one dance a month, so there’d be a party going on every single week. And for a really long time, life didn’t get any easier and we still haven’t managed to stop the curse, but you’ll see…”

Smiling, he slows to a stop and raises his glass, making all of us follow his lead.

“A couple of glasses of this and you’ll not only fall in love with the taste, you’ll put all our remaining differences aside and just. Have. Fun.”

A smile tugs at my lips and at the same moment as everyone else, I down the alcohol, the liquid burning my throat and sending a wave of pleasant heat down my body.

“Well,” Hilde says as she clears her throat, “it is whiskey, but I actually like it.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say in a soft, pensive voice as I watch students, both Fiáins and Grimms, start approaching Howe.

Glad I could come, he said.

It surprises me, when he just keeps talking to the people he’s found himself surrounded by.

And all of a sudden, I feel so stupid, thinking he’d come back to talk to us. As if we’re anything to him.

“Look, Nyx,” I hear Hilde say, “they’re playing Shufflesnake over there.”

I make myself turn to where she’s pointing, but my mind is wholly on His Hotness and how infuriating it all is, this game he’s playing. Making everyone think he’s this super attentive guy when he’s in fact just like everyone else. A self-serving, manipulative people pleaser.

“Nyx?” Hilde’s voice snaps me out of it.

I turn to look at her, wondering if maybe I should just leave.

“What’s the matter with you?” my cousin asks with a little frown.

“Nothing, Hilde,” I tell her, deciding to stop with the pouty nonsense. “Shufflesnake, you say?” I ask as I let my eyes sweep over my surroundings. And there they are, to my left, the Grimms sitting cross-legged in a circle around one of the fires, laughing as they play the Mind Magic game.

But it’s not just them, it’s everyone around me that seems to be having fun — chatting, dancing, playing other games.

I’m at a party, I remind myself, and it might seem rude for me to leave this soon, so I may as well have some fun while I’m here.

So when I turn my eyes back onto Hilde, there’s a devious little smile on my lips. I motion at the Shufflesnake circle. “Why don’t we join them?”

Her face instantly lights up and I roll my eyes at her, but I don’t stop smiling as I start leading the way.

***

Still chuckling at how I kept making Hilde lose her focus, I excuse myself and I start walking down the plateau in the direction of the castle.

I sense him even before I hear him. “Leaving so soon?”

I stop midstep, turning to look at him and feeling a flood of relief when I realize the alcohol is doing its thing. I seem to be able to look into his eyes without feeling my brain desert me. “You did a great job, you know,” I say with a smile. “Everyone seems to be having fun. But yeah, I have to go now.”

And I give him a little wave and turn to walk away.

“Won’t even stick around for the bonfire?” he asks as he comes to block my way, one hand in his pocket and one holding a glass.

I just look at him for a second. “Look,” I start, blowing a soft laugh through my nose. “I see what you’re doing and I respect it. It’s just not something you have to do with me.”

Smiling, he squints at me. “And what am I doing exactly?”

I motion at the party all around us. “Trying to sell the whole unity thing to everyone. But I’m already sold,” I tell him earnestly. “I want this whole thing to work out just as much as you do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I despise cliches, but I don’t let that stop me from understanding how important it is for us all to finally start sticking together.”

He just looks at me for a second. Then he takes a step closer. “Then stick around for a while longer. Judging by today’s outfit,” he says, his eyes darting to my ripped tights and baggy sweater, “it can’t be some formal dinner you’re rushing off to.”

It makes me notice these little creases around his eyes that make them even more attractive when he squints at me.

“How would you know?” I demand, motioning at Lilith Tower in the distance behind me. “I have over twenty dresses waiting for me up there, like soldiers ready for battle.”

“That only makes it sting more, that you didn’t show up in one,” he says as he takes another step closer, his eyes diving deeper into mine.

And there’s that annoying flutter in my chest again. “Really?” I ask, staring to feel a little defensive. “Do you and my closet need some alone time perhaps? I’d never think so, but hey, I sure as hell won’t be judging.”

“Oh I doubt that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I think I know you better by now, princess.”

And it’s obvious he’s teasing me, but the way he mouths the word princess makes my mind linger on how sensual his lips are, and then there’s this ping from my phone, and all of a sudden, I’m finding myself taking a step back, my eyebrows pulling down when I realize I’m letting this asshole charm me into buying into his act like he’s charmed everyone else.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t know what you think you know about any of us here,” I mutter, “but you don’t. Got it?”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes before he raises his hands in defense and says, “Hey, sorry if I offended you somehow.”

It makes a pang of regret shoot through me, but it’s at the very next second that I sense someone else’s presence.

“Step away from her,” I hear my fiance’s voice even before my head snaps to my left to see him standing an arm-length away.

“Whoa, mate,” Howe protests as he puts distance between us, “what’s going on?”

“Get over here, Anastasya,” Max snaps at me.

And I do, throwing a glance at Howe, who’s frowning. “You’re being rude, Max.”

“Rude?” he demands with bitterness in his voice. “I was in a very important meeting tonight, when I got summoned to the Pied Piper’s office.” He pauses for a second, watching my eyebrows pull down. “Do you know what I learned there?”

I shake my head.

“I learned that there’s been a fucking murder.”

What the… My eyes dart to Howe, who takes a step closer to us, his frown growing deeper.

“But do you know what makes it even more interesting?” my fiance asks.

“What?”

He points at Howe. “That they have one of them locked up. Caught red-handed, both literally and figuratively.”

“Ricky?” I hear Howe ask in a tense, commanding voice that sends shivers running up my spine. “The one they have locked up, is his name Eryndor?”

“I neither know nor care what his name is,” Max snaps as he turns to him, “but mark my words, there will be repercussions. Right now, you’re wanted in the Grimm Tower.” And he shifts his focus onto me, grabbing my upper arm. “Come on, Anastasya, we’re leaving.”

It makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I should take him where he has to go,” I protest.

He shoots me a warning look. “No fiance of mine will ever find herself in the same room as a common criminal.”

I hesitate for a second, my eyes darting back to Howe only to find him already looking, standing there, his eyes piercing holes in me. Fuck. “Hilde,” I tell him, apologetically. “Hilde will take you there.”

“I can go myself,” he replies flatly but through gritted teeth. And he looks at me for a second longer before he adds, mockingly, “Your Highness.”

And with that, he pushes past us and starts climbing up the slope and straight for Grimm Tower.

“Anastasya,” Max calls out, impatience in his voice, but I keep my eyes fixed on the alpha’s back for a second longer. It makes my heart sink deep into my stomach, watching the now solitary shadow getting swallowed by the tower’s silhouette piercing the starless night sky.

Chapter 10 - Dahrian

Local Authority Office, sentencing, common criminal… The words keep echoing through my mind and I have to fight not to snarl at the guard to make him go faster. I’m fuming, barely keeping my fox contained. Whenever one of our own is threatened, he gets even less reasonable than usual. And right now, if I let him do what he wanted, we’d all end up in pools of our own blood.

So I grit my teeth and I just keep following the guard, step by step, down from the Pied Piper’s office at the top of somber, minimalist Grimm Tower. In my head, I’m going through the conversation I just had with her assistant. Apparently, the forensics have already done their jobs and the Academy knows exactly what happened and how.

And sometime tomorrow, they’ll be sending Ricky to the local Authority Office.

Ricky, the gentle nerd who wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone murder someone in cold blood.

“Be sure to keep in mind,” the assistant told me in her mousy voice, “that this visit has only been granted because of your impeccable reputation.”

It makes me grit my teeth, how heartless all the people here are. But that only gets an image of a certain Romanov flashing through my head.

I shake it off and I blow out an angry breath, turning my attention back to the guard. “Where exactly are you keeping him? In the fucking dungeon?”

And the guard stops right when we land on floor number five, at least judging by the gold digit to the left of the Elevator.

He turns to me, frowning. “Exactly where we found him, mate,” he says, mocking me.

My eyebrows pull down as I watch him walk across the large round landing, all in expensive wood, and up to one of the five doors along the wall. There’s bright yellow Authority tape barring entry, but he just opens the door and cranes his neck to throw me one of those I-don’t-have-all-day kinds of looks.

I rush over to him, moving to walk through the door, but he blocks me with his arm. “You have exactly fifteen minutes,” he says flatly. “And don’t bother trying to mess with anything, all evidence has already been gathered.”

For a second, I just look at him. Then, despite all my efforts, my fox comes out enough to let out a low growl.

Fear flashes through the man’s face. He clears his throat and removes his arm. “Just saying,” he adds in a voice that’s no longer all that indifferent.

“You know what’s funny?” I demand as I lock eyes with him. “There didn’t even have to be a murder for you people to brand us as criminals. You did that before we ever even got here.”

I keep staring straight into his eyes until he looks away, unease written all over his face. Then he spits out, “Fifteen minutes and then I’m coming in.”

And he walks away, going to stand by the door opposite the one I’m about to walk through.

I force myself to shake it off. I take a deep breath and I walk inside, closing the door behind me. The only light is coming through a small paneled window to my left.

“Dahrian?” I hear Ricky’s feeble voice sound from somewhere to my right.

But I’m busy trying to process the sight before me. I’m in an office with stone walls lined with bookshelves and a large desk dominating the space, but that’s where the normalcy stops.

There’s the body still lying there, in the middle of the floor, a pool of blood spreading from its torso.

And there’s my friend crouching in the far right corner, his entire body covered in blood, including the hands he has clutching his upper arms. It’s scared, the look he’s throwing me.

Speechless, I come rushing over, holding out a hand for him. “In the name of Lycan, Ricky,” I mutter, “it’s at the scene of the crime they’re keeping you?”

He doesn’t take my hand. He looks away. “It’s just the procedure here,” he replies in a brave but a little shaky voice.

I push my anger aside and I sit down in front of him. “Hey, tell me what happened.”

He looks up at me, his eyes murky and still with shock. “I wanted to have a chat with Professor Onas. I only wanted to get information about the different types of magic foliage around the castle grounds, that’s all,” he explains in a pleading voice.

And his gaze darts to the body lying behind me and his breathing instantly becomes heavier. It all makes my heart drop into my stomach.

But I summon all the determination I can, and I make him look at me. “And?”

He shakes his head. “I came by his office and I knocked.” Grimacing as he tries to fight back the tears, he says, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You shouldn’t have done what?” I demand.

“No one responded to my knocking, but the door was open…”

“And?”

“And I went inside and I found him lying there. He was dead already,” he insists, desperation in both his eyes and voice. “I swear to you, Boss. I swear on my family’s graves.”

I have to fight not to give into temptation, to just start consoling him. My eyes dart to his bloodied hands and clothes. “What about the blood, Ricky?”

He looks down and there’s a flash of surprise in his eyes as he holds out his hands. “I slipped. It was so dark in here. I didn’t see the blood and I walked straight into it.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I curse.

“You don’t believe me?” Ricky asks with a fearful look in his eyes.

“Of course I believe you, mate,” I tell him with determination in my voice. “But you know what they’re saying?”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can practically see him hold his breath.

“They’re saying they’ve managed to get inside the man’s head and get his last memory.”

“And?”

I shake my head, fighting not to show how concerned I am. “He didn’t see a face. Someone attacked him from behind, threatening to kill him if he didn’t provide information on getting the mermaids to break their contract.”

I see Ricky frown. “The contract they signed not to attack any of the students while we’re here?”

I nod, watching his face fall. And I don’t want to add to his troubles, but this might mean the difference between life and death to all of us.

“Don’t get me wrong, Ricky,” I tell him in the gentlest voice I can muster, “but before we arrived, when I found out about the Sobbing Lake, you explicitly told me the mermaids wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I thought the contract would be enough for them not to be,” he says, a little pensively.

“You no longer think that?”

He gives me something between a shake and a nod, obviously too rattled for me to expect him to think like he usually does.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about mermaids in general and I’ll take it from there,” I ask.

I watch him breathe a sigh of relief. “Sure, Boss.” He pauses for a second before he asks, “You’re familiar with the fairy tale?”

I nod. “The mermaid who fell in love with a Scion prince and made a deal with a fae to give her legs instead of fins.”

He shakes his head, but it makes me happy to see his lips curl into a sad little smile. “That’s just what the Scions tell their kids, even now. She wasn’t originally a mermaid.” He pauses a little. “Mermaids aren’t born, they’re made.”

I frown, which nudges him to go on.

“Just like the rest of them,” he says, “the Little Mermaid was a fae woman captured by Scion sailors and thrown overboard for good luck.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah. It’s just that back then, the Scions didn’t know what they were actually doing.”

“What were they doing?”

“They were forcing faes to use their magic to adjust to a completely different environment. Instead of dying, they grew fins and kept living underwater, exacting vengeance with their song whenever they’d come across sailors.”

I feel myself losing the thread of the conversation. “That sounds nothing like the fairy tale I know of.”

He shakes his head. “The Little Mermaid… She wasn’t trying to get closer to some stranger that just happened to catch her eye.” He pauses before he explains, “She was trying to get back to her original form so she could be reunited with her fiance.”

For a second, I stay silent. “Shit, that’s depressing.”

He lets out a sad little smile.

“But what’s their nature?” I ask. “The contract… Would they go back on their word like that?”

He shakes his head. “I’d been persuaded into thinking they wouldn’t. But I don’t know anymore, Boss. They don’t like attention and there’s not a lot we know about them.”

I nod thoughtfully, my concern only growing bigger.

“Does that mean the killer didn’t learn anything useful?” Ricky asks.

I have to fight not to let out a sigh. Instead, I just shake my head. “Apparently not. The professor wouldn’t say a word so he or she made good on their threat. And then, then they found you here.” And I look deeper into his eyes.

He just returns the stare for a second.

“Boss,” he finally asks, in a lower, more anxious voice, “how are we going to get out of this?”

I hesitate, gritting my teeth just thinking about it all. How stupid was I, throwing this party in the hopes of making friends with the Grimms when I should’ve been watching my pack more closely?

An image of her pops into my head. The future princess whose role in life will be to perpetuate injustice like this, perched atop her high horse.

What snaps me out of my ruminations is the series of sharp knocks on the office door behind my back. It seems my fifteen minutes have run out.

Feeling myself starting to fume again, I jump to my feet and I tell my friend, “I don’t know how exactly we’ll get out of this. I just know there’s no one here we can count on.”

And even before I see fear flash through his eyes, I make myself say, in a much more determined, upbeat voice, “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, Ricky.”

I pause to look around the room, gritting my teeth. “And my first order of business is getting you out of this sick fucking joke they put you in.”

Chapter 11 - Nyx

Riddled with guilt, I toss and I turn in my bed. They keeps echoing through my mind, all the things I heard when we got summoned to the Dining Hall, right after the party.

Professor Onas getting stabbed to death in his office.

Someone at the Academy looking for information on how to piss off the mermaids.

Eryndor, a Fiain without a last name and Dahrian Howe’s right hand, waiting for the Authority to come hurl him into jail.

But what troubles me most is something I’ve seen with my own two eyes. Once the Pied Piper finished divulging all this information and we started filing out of the Dining Hall, I spotted one of the Authority Officers march up to Uncle and give him something. A book.

Then they said bye and that was that.

But right now, there’s a student sitting in a cell, thinking he’ll be thrown in jail, when there’s a chance he did nothing at all.

It’s only when the first rays of cold morning light enter my room that I decide I’ve had enough of trying to fall asleep.

It’s time to take action.

I spring from my bed and start getting dressed. As I look at myself in the mirror, my mind rushes back to Max. How unnecessarily rude he was when he came to the party. How embarrassed it made me, him ordering me around like that.

I tried to talk to him about it, but he just stayed silent, ignoring my protests. So I went to the Dining Hall to hear what they had to say and then straight to bed.

But now he’s texting me, all sweet, asking to see me. And I’ll have to do it at some point today, but I’m not ready to confront him yet. I’m not sure how I feel. He was the asshole, so why do I feel guilty? In any case, I have more pressing things to do.

So I finish getting dressed and I rush down into the Common Room, stopping on the lowest step.

There are small groups of students here and there, but they’re unusually quiet, huddled around their tables, whispering, showing each other stuff on their phones.

It’s when I hear a quiet sniffle that my head snaps to my left and I see an older fae-blooded woman approach me, carrying a bunch of papers with her eyes fixed on the staircase pillar right next to me.

***

Without giving me so much as a glance, the woman takes one paper and starts taping it to the pillar.

Frowning, I walk around her to see what it is.

“Missing,” the flier says, in large block letters, “a green journal embossed with initials RO. Reward: 1,000 aureons.

And then the contact number.

My eye gets drawn to the woman again. She must be Professor Onas’ wife or something. A pang of sympathy shoots through me.

Once she’s finished taping it, the woman turns on her heel and finds herself face to face with me. “The Authority are saying it’s not important,” she tells me, in a distant, mournful voice of someone who’s just been through a shock, “but it’s missing. How can it not be important?”

And she’s not really asking. I don’t think she even sees me, not really. She staggers off, sniffling, disappearing through the archway and down the stairs, leaving me standing there in dumbfounded silence.

I force myself to snap out of it. I turn on my heel and start walking to my usual table.

And there she is, Hilde, sitting in our spot, a cup of piping-hot coffee in her hand and her eyes on her phone screen.

I forget she’s an early riser.

“Morning,” she says as she looks up from whatever she’s reading. Her face is lit up. “You won’t believe the things people are saying about this. It’s like some mystery novel.”

“A cheap one, I’m guessing,” I say flatly as I throw myself in my own chair. And I really don’t like the type of enthusiasm my cousin is bringing to this, but I’m all ears all the same. “Could I get a summary of some kind?”

She beams at me. “Sure,” she says. And then she leans a little forward and starts in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, “So, this Fiain girl says Eryndor, the main suspect, used to be invisible, back at their Academy. Right up until a year ago, when all of a sudden he started making friends and became their alpha’s right hand.”

I just blink at her for a second. “Hilde,” I start, in a voice that’s as patient as I can make it, “you’re describing an introvert who overcame his shyness.”

“Hm,” she says, thinking for a second. “I guess you’re right, but listen to this. One of ours managed to get his hands on the memory they got from Professor’s head.”

My eyebrows shoot up, but instead of going into more detail, Hilde shoves her phone under my nose.

It’s a comment on one of the posts on the main Academy board.

“Holy shit, everyone, I just saw the memory and it’s so fucking creepy. You can see when the professor gets grabbed by the way he stops putting his bag away and looks up, staring at some spot on the empty wall before him. And then this raspy voice threatening him. Whatever I do, I can’t shake it off! We have a killer at the Academy. Just hope they take him to prison as soon as possible.”

It gives me the creeps, reading about it. But what my mind chooses to linger on is the word ‘raspy.’ I know I heard him talk once, in passing.

“Hilde?” I ask, still staring at the screen. “Have you ever spoken to Eryndor?”

“No, but I did see him a couple of times. He’s actually kind of cute.”

I look up. “Would you say he’d have a raspy voice?”

She thinks for a second. Then she frowns. “No,” she says. “No, I wouldn’t. But I knew this one girl in high school who…”

I stop paying attention to her. It’s still the crack of dawn, but the Pied Piper did say the Authority Officers will be here first thing in the morning.

And right now, all I can think about is Uncle Ludwig calling my name in his raspy, raspy voice.

But more importantly, the flush on his cheeks when he took the book out of that Officer’s hand.

The book that may as well have been a journal.

So I get up and I start marching out of the Common Room, only one thing on my mind. But before I even reach the steps, Max comes to block my way.

***

“Still mad at me?” he asks, throwing me his most apologetic look.

I take a deep breath and I force myself to say, “Actually, I am.”

“Anastasya,” he urges as he comes to take my hand in his, “I’d just found out there’d been a murder and I found you standing there, chatting with one of them.” He throws me an incredulous look. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t in immediate fucking danger?” And he waves a finger in front of me. “You know, there are plenty of women out there who’d appreciate it, their future husbands caring about their safety. Even if they weren’t princes.”

I let out a frustrated breath, but I don’t pull my hand out of his. “Max, I’m not mad that you got scared for me.” I shake my head. “I’m not even mad that you let yourself be incredibly insensitive to an unsuspecting guest.”

“Unsuspecting guest my ass,” he cuts in, snatching his hand away.

“Will you stop it already?” I urge him.

He just looks at me for a second. Then he smiles and says, “Fine.” And he takes a step closer, taking my hand again. “But if it’s not that which bothers you, what’s the problem then?”

For one long moment, I stay silent, feeling such reluctance to even mention it. When I finally speak, it’s a plea in a hushed voice, “You can’t order me to come with you, Max. You can ask, but you can’t order.”

He gives me a little frown. “I didn’t order you to do anything.”

“Yes you did, you ordered me,” I insist, feeling myself fuming. “You said ‘Get over here, Anastasya.’ That sounds like an order to me.”

He sighs and throws his hands out. “Come on, Anastasya, this again? You imagine these slights, and then blame me? Did I say I order you? Did I push you? Hit you?”

“But you can’t talk to me that way,” I say, a little unsure now that maybe he didn’t really order me, but it was still not okay, what happened. “You should respect me, and act like it,” I say, feeling myself choking up.

“Here we go with the tears again,” he steps closer and takes me by the hand. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, cupcake? You know I respect you. You know I love you.”

My heart softens as he pulls me into a hug. He does love me, and he does show it.

His voice is tender in my ear when he says, “Why can’t we just be happy?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling him into a tighter hug.

“That’s okay, cupcake. I love you anyway.” He pulls away and looks at me lovingly, but there’s something else in his eyes.

Raising my eyebrows, I nudge him to talk.

“I was hoping to talk to you about something, but…” And he moves to pull away, but I don’t let him.

“Tell me,” I say, determination in my eyes. I have to do better. Be better.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s too much for you right now,” he says, the words stinging deep inside.

“Tell me,” I urge, pulling away and grabbing his hand.

“Well, if you insist,” he says as he comes to wrap his arms around me again. “Two things,” he leans to say into my ear. “At least until the investigation is over, I want to know where you are at all times.”

The request makes me frown. I’m a big girl, I think to myself. But then again, how can I refuse him in a situation like this? So I nod and put my arms around his shoulders.

“And I want to move the wedding date up,” he adds. “I’m thinking winter break.”

It makes me pull away a little, so I can look into his eyes. “Why?” I finally ask, squinting at him.

“It’s made me realize things,” he says with a warm smile, “all this shit happening.” He gives me a kiss. “I don’t want to delay our happiness any longer than necessary.”

The words make me warm around the heart. Still, I can’t help but panic. That’s, like, three months from now instead of six. And there’s this resistance to it and my mind is buzzing just thinking about all the work changing the date would entail, and besides, I don’t think three more months would kill us.

But he’s raising his eyebrows at me in a silent plea and I decide not to let myself ruin this moment.

So I dismiss it all and I nod, giving him a wide smile. “Yes, let’s do it.”

He beams at me. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, cupcake.”

And he gives me a kiss.

I pull away, throwing him another smile as I move to walk past him.

It’s with a click of his tongue that he stops me, reminding me of our newest deal.

“I’ll just be stopping by Uncle’s,” I tell him.

And he smiles, turns on his heel and starts making his way across the Common Room.

He’d have no reason to do it. Still, I’m glad he didn’t ask what I wanted with Uncle this morning. I’m not too eager for the family to find out about my plan.

***

Feeling lightheaded at the very thought of what I’m about to do, I make my way up the Grimm Tower’s wide stone steps. It’s still so early in the morning, the light that’s falling through narrow windows is casting long shadows down the cold, meticulously brushed stone walls.

The Tower seems to be completely deserted, the only sound being the faded flags flapping in the otherwise barely perceptible breeze. They’re all staying away from their offices today, as I believe I would if I were in their shoes.

When I find myself on the sixth floor landing and I stop in front of his door, for a second, I hesitate.

What if he’s in there? What am I going to tell him?

Hi Uncle, I’ve come to interrogate you about the murder that happened last night. Wondering if you had anything to do with it? Oh, is that a scone you have there? Mind if I help myself?

No, I tell myself. If he’s innocent, he probably won’t even be in. And if he’s not… Well, I don’t have to jump straight to the point, right?

So I force myself to knock.

Silence.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

And just as I’m about to move away from the door, I hear footsteps from the other side.

Fuck. I watch the door slowly open, but only enough to reveal my uncle’s pale, bony face and the anxiousness in his eyes.

“Morning, Uncle,” I say.

The anxiousness disappears as soon as he realizes it’s me. “Anastasya,” he whispers and then swings the door fully open, motioning for me to come in. “How good it is to see you.”

I walk inside, wasting no time in scanning his office. It’s just as silent and cramped as usual, like some medieval hermit’s. The centerpiece is the carved ebony desk, the only surface in the room that’s not completely covered in books and scrolls. Behind it, there’s a fireplace filled with ash, old and heavily used.

“Are you here for a consultation?” I hear Uncle ask and I make myself turn to face him.

“Not exactly,” I say as I lower myself in an armchair opposite the desk.

“Don’t tell me you and Nikolay are fighting again,” he says with a tired smile and sits in his regular chair, an oddly plain and uncomfortable one.

This makes my lips curl into a sad smile. I don’t know what he’s talking about because I’ve never come to complain to him about my brother. Maybe he’s remembering something from our childhood.

“Nikolay and I are fighting the same amount as usual, nothing to worry about.”

Now, that makes Uncle frown a little, as if he’s finally catching up on the fact this is no regular student or family visit.

“Uncle,” I start, forcing determination into my voice, “I’m here because of what happened last night.”

There it is again, the flash of anxiousness in his eyes. “Oh, you mean the murder,” he says flatly. He clears his throat, looking away for a second. “Don’t worry about it, my dear. As the Pied Piper said last night, the culprit has already been caught.”

I just look at him for a second. The Ludwig Schwarz that I know would be eager to gossip, just like his other niece, Hilde. “Um,” I stutter, but I quickly collect myself. “Sure, that’s what they’re saying. But I don’t know if it’s true. It just doesn’t hold up.”

And I lock eyes with him, not letting him look away.

He stays silent for a second. “Doesn’t hold up?” he finally echoes with a weak smile. He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands. “A vengeful Fiain comes to Grimm Academy with a plan to exact revenge. He does what he does, gets caught and ends up in jail. It seems pretty straightforward to me.”

“Yes, until you actually think about it, that is.”

His eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“A Fiain exacting revenge by pissing off creatures that would first hurt his own?”

“So?” he demands, leaning to rest his forearms on his desk. And his gaze is unwavering now, but his voice is not entirely flat when he says, “There are people in this world who would do a lot worse to get what they want.”

“I guess that’s true,” I concede. “But that doesn’t answer the most pressing question of all.”

“Which is?”

“Why he just stayed there after he did it. Why didn’t he leave, try to run, shift, whatever?”

Uncle shakes his head, pressing his lips tight. “Who knows what goes on in a sick person’s mind.”

“So you think it’s sick, what he did?”

“Of course I do,” he rushes to say. “Which is why I think we should discuss it no more. It’s not a topic suited for a young, impressionable mind.” He looks around his desk, his eyes fixing on a stack of papers to his right. “Now,” he says as he starts leafing through them, “your work in Blood Magic this year…”

My own eyes dart to the fireplace behind him. I spot a tiny flash of green amidst all the grays and blacks.

What did he do and why?

“You’re making some great progress, you know?” I hear him go on, but I decide to bite the bullet.

I look back at him and I say, my voice determined but slightly shaky, “I saw it.”

He freezes in place, his eyes darting to mine.

“I saw the Authority Officer give it to you last night.”

My heart skips a beat. He drops the papers and just keeps staring at me for a second, his breathing becoming shallower. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear,” he finally says, his voice low but warning.

I gulp. Too late to turn back now. My eyebrows pulling down in sympathy, I lean a little forward. “Please just tell me what happened, Uncle,” I beg him in the softest, most familiar voice I can muster. “We can make it so no one ends up in jail. I can help you.”

For one long moment, he just stares at me. I hold my breath, fully expecting him to start talking, for real.

Then, to my surprise, his jaw clenches and his cheeks flush.

“Help me?” he yells out as he rises out of his chair so suddenly, he knocks it over.

On instinct, I get up as well.

“You should stop playing detective,” he spits out, anger distorting his facial features, “that’s what you should do, you foolish girl. In case you forgot,” he says as he pokes the desk with his finger, “I’m a professor at Grimm Academy and an esteemed member of the vampire community. It was me they chose as the Guardian of the Obscura, a highest honor that is only given to persons of trust.”

It leaves me straight-up dumbfounded, his reaction. And it makes me believe I was right in thinking there was something fishy going on. This is not the uncle I know.

Fuck, I think as I keep staring at him. I don’t think I want this, to mess with family like this. So I give Uncle a curt nod and I turn to walk away.

“I won’t let them take this away from me,” he practically yells after me, making me stop midstep. “I’ve done nothing wrong, Anastasya, I’m a person of trust if ever there was one.”

I take a deep breath and I turn back to him, my voice low and cold, “If you’re so trustworthy, why don’t you tell me what it is you last burned in that fireplace?”

“Your mother will be hearing about this,” he snaps, still red in the face.

My blood boils. “There’s a boy being taken to jail for something he might not have done.”

“Okay,” he rushes to convince me, taking a step closer and wringing his hands, “you saw what you saw, but it was only about a meeting with Professor Onas that was penciled in at the wrong time. I assure you, you would’ve done the same.”

A meeting, really, I think to myself. I just look at him for a second, disappointed, pissed-off and scared all at once. “No, I wouldn’t,” I say through gritted teeth and I turn to walk out of his office.

He rushes to block my way. “What’re you going to do?”

I can barely stand to look at him. “I’m just going to tell the Authority where they can find the victim’s journal.”

“Please, don’t do this because of a stupid meeting.”

I just shake my head.

“In the name of Lilith, Anastasya,” he pleads, clasping his hands as he stares deeper into my eyes. “I’m your family. I’m a Romanov just like you are.”

Exactly my problem. I push past him and I open the door. I have to fight to keep my voice flat when I look over my shoulder to say, “Rest assured, Uncle. If you’re innocent, you’ve got nothing to fear.”

***

Shaking with emotion, I march all the way downstairs, where I heard they moved Eryndor. And just as I arrive at the landing of Level Minus One, which is the dungeons, the Elevator door opens and out step two somber-looking Authority Officers clad in their usual forest green uniforms.

My heart sinks deep into my stomach. Am I too late?

I am, I think as I watch them head straight for the stairs leading down and into the cells, their black boots loud against the stone floor.

“Wait a minute,” I call out, making them stop midstep and turn to me.

And it takes a bit of convincing and I only succeed because of who I am, but they do let me see him, to get fifteen minutes with him before they take him away.

I just need to make sure, I think as I rush down the stairs and into darkness broken only by torch light. I just need to make sure I won’t be potentially harming Uncle for someone who is the killer after all.

But when the guard opens the door for me and I step into the cold damp of the dungeon, it’s not just Eryndor I see there, huddled on a stone bench along the wall.

Sitting right next to him is his alpha, Dahrian.

And he’s staring straight at me.

My heart breaks into a gallop, my mind scrambling for an explanation as my eyes scan his face.

So serious, he looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

It’s been twelve hours and he still hasn’t left Eryndor’s side?

Chapter 12 - Dahrian

She barges in like she owns the place, making my eyes narrow and my jaw clench. My fox immediately stirs from his sleep, sticking his nose out to take a whiff of her.

Even now... I push him away, harsher than I normally do. She stops at the door and it gives me a smidge of satisfaction, seeing the surprise on her face when she spots me sitting next to my friend.

But it doesn’t last long. It just turns into another sign of how shitty everything’s turning out to be. It was a mistake, coming here, I think as I throw daggers at her.

“If you’re looking for your boudoir, Your Highness,” I tell her in a mocking voice, “this is not it.”

Now that gets her worked up, her cheeks flushing with anger.

For fuck’s sake, stop it, I tell myself, stop trying to get a reaction out of her.

She presses her lips tight and turns to look at Ricky. “I came to talk to him.”

“Ricky?” I demand. “What’s your business with him?”

“Dahrian,” Ricky starts, but I don’t let him finish. I don’t take my eyes away from her, not for a second.

I get up, suddenly, making her flinch a little. And I walk up to her, slowly, this sinking feeling in my stomach as I burn holes in her eyes. “I don’t think you have any, so you may as well go back to Prince Charming,” I tell her in a low, warning voice. An image of her flashes through my mind, that look she threw me when she got me pinned during the First Game. And the jolt of electricity it gave me.

Right now, it’s a defiant one she’s giving me. “The Authority Officers are already upstairs. Trust me,” she says, “you’re not doing him any good by turning me out.”

I let out a bitter scoff. “Trust you?” And I look at her for a second longer, wondering how my instincts could’ve fooled me so badly. “You know what day we’ve had, Ricky and I?”

I have to ignore the way her eyes stay on mine, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to go on. “I won’t bore you describing the kind of accommodation your Academy provided until I intervened. I’ll just say I highly doubt the investigation was carried out by the books. In fact,” I say, pausing to throw daggers at her, “there seems to be a woman going around looking for an item the Authority claim they didn’t find, even though Ricky clearly saw them throw it in the evidence box, didn’t you, Ricky?”

And I turn to look at him, for the first time since she entered the room. My friend throws me a funny look and then glances at our esteemed visitor, giving her a nod.

I turn to look at her again, finding her pressing her lips even tighter, as if she’s trying to control herself. “So no,” I say, as flatly as I can, “I won’t trust you. That’s a mistake I’ve already made.”

“Dahrian,” I hear my friend call out and I look over my shoulder to throw daggers at him as well. “She’s got nothing to do with that whatsoever.”

I turn to face him, surprised that he’d be taking her side. “It’s becoming obvious it’s all corruption and power grabs here, Ricky.” I throw a glance at her, her obvious silent fuming making me keep my eyes fixed on her. “And she’s part of the problem, believe me.”

She opens her mouth to say something, making me hold my breath in anticipation, but Ricky beats her to it.

“Still,” he says, “with all due respect, it’s my decision, whether she gets to talk to me.”

I can tell she’s surprised, too. I turn to look at my friend and when I see he’s being serious, I force myself to come sit next to him. Still fuming, I fix my eyes on her, both of us waiting for her to speak.

She stays silent for a second, shifting on her feet. Then she looks straight at Ricky and says, “I know we’ve never met—”

“I know who you are,” Ricky cuts in.

She glances away awkwardly, making my anger die down a little. “I guess you would. But now I know who you are, too, Eryndor.”

“You can call me Ricky,” my friend tells her.

I shoot him an angry look, but he just shakes his head with a sad look in his eyes. I shrug it off.

“Ricky,” she repeats. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

“Likewise.”

“Anyway,” she starts hesitantly, “I guess I wanted to ask if you could give me your version of the events from last night.”

I let out a scoff. “Didn’t know you were an Authority Officer.”

But that just earns me two annoyed glances.

“Sure,” Ricky starts, pretty warmly, considering. “As I already said, I went to ask Professor Onas some questions, I knocked and I went in, probably shouldn’t have, but I did, and then…” He pauses, making her shift on her feet with unease, and me grit my teeth because I know he’s in pain about this.

It makes old, unwanted memories surface, memories of my brother’s eyes closing never to open again.

“You don’t have to keep going,” I growl at him.

I feel her eyes dart to me. Fuck, this is all making it very hard for me to stay in control.

“I know,” Ricky says, “but I want to.” He pauses for a second, making her turn her attention back onto him. “Basically, what happened was this. It was dark, I slipped and I fell into a pool of blood. And then that student found me.”

I watch her watch him. And I can see the wheels turning in her head, judging. What right does she have to judge?

“I see,” she finally says. “Well, I guess the reason I’m asking is… I know there’s something weird going on and I can get you out.”

That makes my eyebrows pull down.

“What do you mean?” I hear Ricky ask, but I don’t take my eyes away from her.

She’s avoiding looking in my direction, and she seems extremely uncomfortable with what she’s about to say. It’s all making me hold my breath.

“The item you mentioned,” she continues hesitantly, “the one the Authority claim they didn’t find, well, I did.”

What the… I feel Ricky shift in his seat. But she’s still refusing to look at me, making me even more persistent in staring at her.

And I can tell she feels me looking. Blood rushes to her cheeks as she says, “In my uncle’s office.”

There’s a moment of silence before Ricky asks, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know exactly, but I do know they’ll have to let you go as soon as I tell them.”

My eyebrows pull down. Then I let out a scoff. “Yeah, right,” I tell her, finally making her look at me. “Last night, you wouldn’t even accompany a common criminal’s friend to Grimm Tower, but today, you’re willing to save said common criminal by throwing your esteemed uncle in jail instead.”

You couldn’t expect that from anyone, I think to myself.

She just looks at me for a second. “Maybe you can’t judge a person by a single thing she does.” She takes a step closer to me, making all my muscles tense up. “And maybe, just maybe,” she drawls as she keeps her eyes on me, “I was right, yesterday, when I told you you don’t know the first thing about me.”

And she tears her eyes away from me and turns her focus back onto Ricky, leaving me too dumbfounded to say anything in response.

“I’ll go now, but you can expect to be released soon,” she tells him. “I only need to tell the officer upstairs I know exactly which one of their own regulations they broke in handling this case.”

“Thank you, Miss Romanov,” I hear Ricky say.

“Nyx, you can call me Nyx,” she replies, throws him a tense but soft smile and turns to walk away.

I sit straighter, my fox poking his nose out to see if she’ll say bye to me as well.

She only throws me a glance over her shoulder.

***

My mind buzzing, I try to focus on putting one foot in front of the other so we can get the fuck out of the castle and back at the camp as soon as possible. So it’s only once the Elevator spits us out into the garden that I register Ricky throwing me glances.

“What is it?” I growl at him, immediately regretting the harsh tone. “Tell me,” I say, more softly, as I give him the side-eye.

My friend is still pale and obviously worn-out, but now, there’s a smile dancing on his lips. “I didn’t know you knew Nyx so intimately.”

“Intimately?” I echo, stopping to frown at him. He slows to a stop as well and tilts his head at me. “And who are you to talk, calling her Nyx like you’re fucking besties.” To me, she introduced herself as Anastasya. “I mean, I do understand she helped get you out, but it was probably her uncle who put you there in the first place.”

He gives me another funny smile. “You apparently already had time to have a fight about who you are or aren’t as people,” he says, completely ignoring everything I just said.

“That was just bullshit,” I protest.

And I go back to putting one foot in front of the other, headed straight for the slope leading down to the lake and wondering if it’ll be worth it, trying to save this day.

“I don’t know,” I hear Ricky say. “To be honest, when you two were talking in there, there was this vibe—”

“You’re in shock, Ricky,” I cut him off. Then I pause to ruffle his hair a little. “Maybe we should get your head checked out,” I say with a smile.

He rolls his eyes at me. “It just surprised me, is all. She’s nothing like the girls I normally see you with.”

My fox lets out a growl. What is he trying to say?

“Shut up,” I tell him.

“First smart thing to come out of your mouth, Ricky,” I tell my friend, making my voice as nonchalant as possible. “She’s grumpy as fuck.”

“Real character though,” my friend comments in a pensive voice.

I don’t say anything. I just imagine her, once again, standing there with an unwavering gaze as she told us what she learned.

I shake my head, forcing myself to shrug it off.

And it’s just then that I spot them, our pack, climbing up the slope to meet us. They rush to surround Ricky, inspecting him, patting him on the back and asking him questions, most of which I don’t catch because they’re talking over each other.

And it does make my lips curl into a soft smile, but it doesn’t really make me warm around the heart.

“So,” O’Malley Senior starts when we finally start walking back to the camp, “what’s the plan, Boss?”

“The plan?” I ask as I watch the rest of my ‘council’ fall into step with me.

“Yeah,” O’Malley Junior says. “They released him, but based on what you reported, in my humble opinion, this was open hostility.”

That makes me frown. Keep the peace, the Archon’s words echo in my mind. The last thing I need right now is for my entire team to think we’re at war with these people.

I stop and turn to look at Junior. With the corner of my eyes, I see Ricky throw me a glance, but then he just keeps going with the rest of them, leaving me to deal with this impromptu meeting.

“There’s been a fucking murder,” I drawl, my fox rising to the surface and making all my captains nervously shift on their feet. “A professor was murdered in his own fucking office and you think it’s open hostility for the administration to lock up the person found at the very crime scene?”

Judging by the way they’re avoiding my eye, I’ve successfully completed my mission.

“Whatever you say, Boss,” O’Malley brother says, trying to break the tension. “It’s just this thing with the mermaids and someone trying to get them to break their contract.”

For a second, I just look at them. Then I let out a sigh and I throw them a smile. “Look, everyone,” I say, realizing I have to turn this around somehow, “I’m not trying to say there are no bad people at this Academy. But this is an isolated incident, the act of some madman who probably has nothing to do with us or the Games.”

My eyes sweep over their faces and I see relief flooding them. It makes my muscles relax, when O’Malley Junior cracks a smile. I pat him on the back and we keep going down the slope.

They trust you, you know, my fox says. Be careful not to betray that trust.

“That’s not something I need to be told,” I reply with bitterness in my mouth.

He clicks his tongue. I’m not sure, considering the way you behaved throughout this.

“I didn’t lose control,” I insist.

You started thinking about your brother, he says, making me start to fume, and that’s never good.

“She made me mad. They all made me mad.”

But mostly her. She went with that asshole of a prince and you let it get to you too much. Which only goes to prove my theory. You need to find a way to get her out of your system and you won’t do that by avoiding her.

I almost laugh out loud. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Well, even if I’m wrong, there’s one thing that’s true…

“Really?”

Really. You’re bringing home a member of the pack that was just accused of murder and I’ll bet there’s not a single person there that’s looking forward to the next Game.

Now that makes me think.

He’s right, I tell myself. The Second Game is in more than two months, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to react as soon as possible. Things could easily take the wrong turn if I don’t.

Luckily, I think to myself, it was the truth, what I told my captains a moment ago. An image of the future princess, a surprisingly principled princess, flashes through my mind. Not all people at this Academy are bad people.

And sure, maybe if she weren’t engaged, maybe my thoughts would be elsewhere. But considering she is, at least I can look forward to watching her kick ass.

I decide to use the thrill that the thought sends coursing through me, and just as we reach the camp, I make everyone stop and I say, letting my voice boom, “Who wants to bet on what the next Game will be?”

And it gives me joy, to see all their faces light up with excitement.

Chapter 13 - Nyx

Normally, I’d find the snow covering the grounds outside comforting. But right now, I can’t fucking stand it, the way the cold December sun is slanting through the stained glass windows in E13, making everything look so bleak.

Maybe it was a mistake to be so quick about this. I glance around the classroom only to find everyone still immersed in finishing the Blood Magic assignment, brewing a potion to purify their respective infected blood samples. Even Uncle looks as if he hasn’t moved at all, sitting behind his desk to the front, scribbling in his notebook in complete silence.

I turn to the window once again. The light. The silence. A whole afternoon of tedious wedding preparations rounding the corner. It’s all making me so desolate, I have to fight not to let out a sigh.

The clock strikes twelve.

“Your time has run out,” I hear Uncle declare and I turn to watch him as he gets out of his chair for an inspection.

Even as he approaches the first row of desks, the students around me all scramble to get another ingredient in.

“Mr Fritz,” he calls in a warning voice, making said guy freeze with his hand still in the air, hovering above the cauldron.

Uncle comes to stand next to his desk and Fritz lowers his hand, desolation clearly written on his face even before the judge and jury takes a dropper out of his pocket, uses it to draw some of the potion out of the cauldron and then into the little vial perched on an elegant wooden stand.

The muddied, foul-smelling blood inside turns even darker, black almost.

Uncle clicks his tongue and says, “I know these are more complex diseases than the ones we’ve practiced with last year, Mr Fritz, but these results are shameful.”

He glances around the room, raising his voice to warn everyone present, “If I had to choose one thing for you to perfect, of everything there is to learn within Blood Magic, it would be blood purification.” He pauses for effect. “For a vampire, this is a matter of life or death. Have I made myself clear?”

There are soft yeses sounding from all around me. Seeming satisfied, Uncle nods and keeps going.

But as I watch him, it’s not blood purification I’m thinking of. Once again, my mind is threatening to drag me down the hole of thinking about the murder, the events of the First Game and Uncle’s involvement in all of it.

What if, right after class, I went to the Library real quick? I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I’m bound to find something.

But it’s just at that moment that Uncle finishes inspecting the desk right behind me.

I glance inside my cauldron, checking if the potion is still the perfect color and texture. It is.

But when I hear Uncle’s footsteps again and I look up to meet his eyes, I see him walk straight past me without so much as a glance.

This again, I think as I burn holes in his back.

I grit my teeth, I take my own dropper out of the tool set and I test the potion myself.

The muddied, foul-smelling blood before me turns perfect, healthy looking, appetizing red.

But it gives me no joy. I guess I can understand Uncle, but it still pains me to be shunned by family like this — him, Mother, even Nikolay... After what happened the night of that party, Uncle didn’t even get a slap on the wrist, the green journal disappeared into thin air again, and now there’s this schizophrenic guy the professor used to work with claiming he was the one who murdered him.

And I knew, as soon as it happened, that Mother would be pulling strings to make it all go away. But what it’s all even about… That I do not know.

Instantly, my mind starts buzzing in search of potential answers. Somehow, I don’t think Uncle would kill someone himself. But helping someone in a crime like that… I look up to squint at him, but as soon as I do, I realize I’m doing it all over again.

For the millionth time, I decide I won’t give in to temptation and keep researching what Mother specifically asked not to get into, ever again. I let out a sigh and I turn to look out the window.

The only thing worth living for right now is tomorrow’s Game. The second one. And everyone has their own opinions, but a Game followed by the Winter Solstice Ball? That’s got to be the best one.

No, Nyx, I tell myself, you’ve got hours and hours to go before it starts. And in the meantime, you’ve got shit to do. I make myself remember the long months at the Summer Palace, when I’d get so caught up in my daydreaming that I’d miss the dress gong, the tutoring sessions, the afternoon tea…

And then I’d get the whip, my governess making sure it never happened again.

No one tells you that at some point in life, you have to become the whip. Otherwise, you end up playing videogames all day long, like brother darling. And I can’t do that. He might think it enough, to spend his entire life lording over nothing, but I plan to put it to good use, my future role as Princess.

And sometimes, that means handling tedious wedding preparations.

So as soon as Uncle finishes the inspection and the bell sounds, I spring from my chair and I rush out of the classroom.

It makes me stop midstep, when Max crosses my mind.

“Finished with Uncle’s class, going to my room,” I type to him.

“Thanks for the update, cupcake,” he replies.

I keep walking down the hallway, elbowing my way through the crowd pouring out of the classrooms to my left and right.

But I really need to get a move on. The dressmaker will be showing up any minute now to shower me with color samples that all look the same.

So I dart through another, emptier hallway, and I rush down the stairs and into the Entrance Hall, my eyes fixing on the Elevator.

But then they get drawn a little to the right. There, in the middle of a crowd, I see Professor Onas’ wife talking to the Pied Piper’s assistant. Talking at her, that is, at least judging by the way the mousy vampire girl keeps looking away.

My heart skips a beat. I don’t stop walking, but I do slow down a bit.

So as I push past them, I clearly hear the assistant say, “I’m sorry, Mrs Onas, but she’s just too busy.”

I subtly look over my shoulder and I see her walk away, leaving the woman standing there alone.

I stop midstep and I turn on my heel.

For a second, I hesitate. But the widow seems so miserable and I just can’t help it.

I start walking over to her, catching her eye without knowing whether she’ll recognize me.

She lights up as soon as she spots me. “Lady Romanov,” she calls and comes to meet me halfway.

It takes me by surprise, but not as much as the way she just takes my hand in hers. I have to fight the urge to take it back, but the look she throws me, it’s so warm, it makes the urge dissipate.

“Mrs Onas,” I start, but she cuts me off.

“I apologize, dear,” she says, “for not recognizing you back then…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, both our minds rushing to her husband’s death.

And I have to muster all my determination, but I bite the bullet and I ask, “How have you been doing?”

She smiles, and the smile is still warm, but there’s bitterness in it. “You’re the first one who thought to ask. The others, well…”

I don’t say anything, but I do nudge her to go on.

She takes in a sharp breath, as if in an attempt to stay in control, and says, “They won’t give his stuff back.”

That makes me frown.

“I know,” she says with another weak smile. “I’ve only managed to get in touch with the Officer in charge of his case and the Pied Piper’s assistant and they both say the same thing.”

“What?”

“It’s still evidence.”

Bullshit, I think to myself. It’s just the endless bureaucracy and the heartlessness of the system. But I don’t say that. Especially as the future princess, I’m not allowed. “Have you filed any complaints?” I choose to ask.

Mrs Onas runs her hand over her face, letting out a small sigh. “I have. But I have no pull with the Authority and the Pied Piper won’t even see me.”

“That’s outrageous, Mrs Onas.”

“You think?” she asks. To my surprise, without a smidge of sarcasm in her voice. She shakes her head. “Sometimes, I think that it could just be me, you know, making a fuss over nothing.”

“They’re your late husband’s possessions,” I say through gritted teeth. “I honestly hope that people who’d say you’re making a fuss over nothing would be in the minority.”

She just looks at me for a second, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for saying that, dear,” she squeezes out, her voice all choked up. “Now that he’s gone, there’s not a lot of kindness left in this world for me.”

I have to fight not to look away, not to start crying right then and there. “The case,” I say in a voice as flat as I can make it. “How close are they to actually closing it?”

She blinks the tears away and lets out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think it’ll ever happen, Lady Romanov.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I nudge her to go on.

“That day, in your House’s Common Room,” she starts, her eyebrows pulling down, “I told you about the missing journal. They gave me photos of all the items they found in his office and asked me if I thought there was anything missing. And the journal was the first and only thing that popped into mind.”

“But?”

She drops her voice to a near whisper. “But it wasn’t the only thing missing from the list. I just couldn’t think straight at the time.”

Holding my breath, I ask, “What was it?”

She waves her hand, a smile tugging at her lips again. “For the life of me, I still can’t remember the name. I mean, he’d talk about it from time to time, but he was an endlessly curious man who was constantly doing research on multiple magical items.”

I have to fight the urge to just shake all the information out of her. Instead, I choose to start by asking, “Do you know what it looks like?”

“Yes,” she replies with a vigorous shake of her head. “Like a little coffin, the size of a finger. I mean, he used to make fun of me for thinking that, but that’s what it looked like to me. Especially when you think about what it does.”

Now, that makes my heart skip a beat. “What does it do?”

“Traps a being’s life force, at least in theory.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes,” she replies, but her mind is already elsewhere. “So you think I should keep pushing, dear? If they can’t find his…” She doesn’t say it, but we both know she means ‘killer’. “At least they can give me his stuff back.”

It makes me feel so sorry for her. “Let me see what I can do,” I say as I whip my phone out.

“Oh no, dear, no,” she says, waving her hands in protest.

“No stopping me now,” I reply as a name pops into my head. The perfect one. A Romanov Dynasty loyalist who also happens to be a very powerful man.

“In the name of Ydril, girl,” I hear Mrs Onas protest, the way she calls me ‘girl’ only making me like her even more, “you’ll think I came to greet you just to get a favor out of you.”

I raise a finger to ask her to wait as I type.

“Good day, General Alaric. I have a small favor to ask. I’d like the possessions of the murdered Grimm Academy’s professor returned to the deceased’s widow as soon as possible. Would you be able to help with that?”

Once I’m done and the text is sent, I turn my attention back onto the kind widow. She’s looking at me apprehensively. “It was me who came to talk to you, Mrs Onas, isn’t that right?”

“I guess it is,” she concedes with a slight, but growing smile.

My phone pings and both our eyes dart to it.

“Good day, Your Ladyship,” the reply reads. “It would be my utmost pleasure to fight the battle against bureaucracy for you. Send me the address and I will have the items delivered within two hours tops. My regards to your future husband.”

My lips tug into a smile. “Done,” I say as I look up at Mrs Onas, who’s staring at me with incredulousness in her eyes.

“Lady Romanov,” she whispers.

But there are wheels turning in my head. Two hours, he said. I may as well have the stuff delivered to my room first. That way, if luck serves me, I’ll be able to give her the satisfaction of the killer being caught as well.

So I make a snap decision, turning my attention back onto the widow. “Really no need to be so formal, Mrs Onas,” I tell her. “The possessions will all be delivered to you first thing in the morning.”

She just looks at me for a second. “You have my eternal gratitude, dear. I mean it.”

I try to force myself to say something, but it makes me uncomfortable, being in the spotlight like this. So I just nod and give her an awkward smile.

Have to learn to be better at this, I think as I turn on my heel and start walking away. For when I’m Princess.

***

It’s the softest knock, but it sends me springing from the bed on which I’m trying to pass the time.

When I fling the door open, I find that it really is the courier. There are two luggage carts with boxes of Professor Onas’ stuff behind him.

As he helps me get them all inside, I barely exchange two sentences with the guy. That’s how anxious I am to start. And I’ve rescheduled the dressmaker so I’ll have plenty of time.

So as soon as the courier closes the door behind him, I throw myself onto the bed and I grab one of the boxes, all neatly stacked at its foot.

Despite the eagerness, I don’t rip it open straight away. No one would bat an eye at me asking for a favor like this. I’m the only one who doesn’t do it all the time. And when I do, I’m smart about it. I don’t ask favors from people with obvious red flags.

But once I start looking through the things, there’s no going back. I will have disobeyed Mother’s orders to stop with the detective nonsense. And if anyone ever found out…

What’s the worst that could happen, I ask myself. The family would be even more disappointed with me? They’d make me sit through yet another extremely uncomfortable conversation followed by weeks of silent treatment?

I frown. The thought does not appeal to me.

But this is not just about getting a poor widow the satisfaction of her husband’s killer being thrown in jail.

If I catch the killer, I’ll also have caught the person trying to sabotage the Games. And statistically, the killer is probably someone the professor knew.

So I rip the box open and start pulling stuff out, eagerly but with great care.

A framed picture of the professor and his wife.

An etui with a pair of glasses in it.

A pencil holder.

And a lot of books. Textbooks, to be more exact.

Alright, I think as I look up, my eyes sweeping over the other sixteen boxes. It would be downright weird if I found what I was looking for in the very first box.

So I dive in, determination in my every move.

I go through another box.

And another.

And another.

Until I get to the second to last and I stumble onto something shiny, a fist-sized rough crystal that feels weird to the touch. And as soon as I pull it out, it starts emitting this horribly annoying sound, like nails on chalkboard. It’s only once the sound starts becoming louder that I realize the crystal is sucking in and amplifying all the sounds in my room.

I shove it back into the box and I close it shut, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as the sound dies down.

But it’s only then that my mind processes it, what my eyes saw while I was closing it.

I open it back up and pull the shoe box out.

Hell yes, I think as I inspect the lid. Fuck elaborately carved wooden boxes, where people generally only keep the boring stuff, like jewelry. Even my mother, the Duchess Irina Nikolayevna Romanova, owns a shoe box in which she keeps her documents and some of her letters. Granted, it’s a designer shoe box, but still.

Eagerly, I take the lid off, my mouth instantly cracking into a grin. Letters.

Bingo.

I start going through them like there’s no tomorrow.

A letter from a girl who seemed to have been a high-school sweetheart, judging by the hearts dotting the Is.

A letter of acceptance into Grimm Academy.

And a bunch of letters, tied together with a string, from someone by the name of Cian Fitzpatrick.

As soon as I read the name, my eyebrows pull down. Cian Fitzpatrick… Where have I come across that name?

It almost instantly dawns on me. I spring from my bed and jump over the rest of the boxes to grab the book off my desk. The History of Grimm Academy. Frowning and holding my breath, I open it onto the page talking about the Games.

And there I find it. Cian Fitzpatrick, the name of the shifter professor who wrote the section.

I slam the book onto the desk, fixing my eyes ahead. It could be the killer. Someone Professor Onas knew. Someone who obviously had some kind of interest in the Games. Someone who could be holding a grudge against the Fiáin Academy.

My heart pounding with excitement, I rush back to the bed and grab my phone. ‘Cian Fitzpatrick’, I type into the browser search box.

And I start scrolling.

No, I curse when my eyes stop on an article titled The Death of One of the Topmost Scholars in His Field, Professor Cian Fitzpatrick.

Four years ago. He’s dead and he died four years ago.

Goddamn it. I shake my head and I go back to the letters. They’re the closest to a lead that I currently have, but considering the man who wrote them is dead, I’m not in the least enthusiastic. I carefully untie the string and start reading.

Dear Ruvyn, it starts. That’s Professor Onas’ first name, I guess.

How are you, my friend? I hope the weather’s not treating you too badly. I’ve spent many an hour in the Greenhouse and I know exactly how the old joints can react to its chilly air.

Ugh. I keep skimming the paragraphs, then pages, then whole letters.

And there’s a lot of talk about lectures, research, students. But nothing of any interest to me whatsoever. Nothing that would implicate the old Fitzpatrick.

Until he ends one letter with the words:

I’ve finally finished it, old friend. The book I told you about almost ten years ago at that conference in the West Scion Lands. I know the Games can be a delicate topic, even after all this time, and you did warn me. You did say no one will want to publish it. So I did it myself, because I think it’s important to speak up about what happened and how the powers that be let a mere spat turn into the clash of the century. I just hope that, despite everything, it ends up finding its audience.

P.S. Yes, Ruvyn, you’re getting your own copy, albeit an undeserved one.

Love,

Cian

Holy shit. I drop the letter onto my bed and look into the box, where I find the said book lying under a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. How the Umbrage Could Have Been Avoided, by Cian Fitzpatrick.

Isn’t that just perfect. A book that I’m a hundred percent sure the Library doesn’t have, because I’ve already read everything there is to read on the topic. And what I really want to do now is curl up with it, but I’ve no time to waste on that. After all, it’s tomorrow that I’ll have to return the Professor’s stuff and I’m no closer to finding the killer than I was before I started opening these boxes, I think as I grab the very last one.

Nothing. It contains nothing of significance whatsoever.

I let out a sigh and I throw myself onto my back. I guess the next logical step would be to go through the books again, see if there are any inscriptions from other people with ties to the Games.

Why, oh why didn’t he keep a contact book?

I hear my phone ping from somewhere and it sends a pang of anxiety shooting through me, but I choose to ignore it. I turn my head to the side and there it is, lying there, waiting for me. The book that might have some interesting insights on the Umbrage.

I guess it can’t hurt, to at least crack it open and skim the contents. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never get the chance to do it again.

But just as I reach out my hand to take it, my phone starts ringing.

Ringing. Which can only mean one thing, I think as I sit up in my bed. Max.

My eyes dart to the window. Fuck. It’s already dark out and I told him I’d be at the party in the Common Room in honor of tomorrow’s Game. Like a warm-up of sorts.

And I’m late and I didn’t even let him know.

***

There’s that usual urge to rush down the stairs, maybe even run straight to our spot in the Common Room. It’s the same desperate urge I get whenever someone’s waiting for me.

Only this time, I choose to ignore it and I walk down the stairs, even slower than usual, with the book in my bag, no less.

The Common Room is buzzing, but as soon as my boots hit its hardwood floors, I spot them sitting in our spot, Nikolay gesturing as he recounts what must be his latest tall tale. I zoom in on the table, seeing that their drinks are already half finished. Despite wishing I could just go back up and take a long bath with the book in my hand, I force myself to start moving.

As I walk, I work on an excuse for canceling on the dressmaker. I don’t want to tell anyone what I’m working on.

A headache, I think to myself. A really, really strong headache.

It’s just as I’m about to walk up to the table that Max spots me, his eyebrows immediately pulling down. He gets up and appears right in front of me.

“I called,” he says, a mix of concern and suspicion in his voice.

“I was already on my way out,” I reply, feeling apologetic and a little defiant all at once. “I knew I’d see you straight away.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he smiles. “That’s fine, cupcake,” he finally says, in a much softer voice, his mouth curling into a smile as he wraps his arm around my waist. “You just got me worried. And I don’t think I’m asking for much — you letting me know, from time to time, where you are.”

I shake my head, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, Max,” I say with a breathy laugh, and I give him a kiss on the lips. “I just seem to be out of it today.”

“Let’s get a drink in you then,” he suggests with a smile.

And he takes my hand and leads me over to our table, Hilde throwing me a smile as Nikolay frowns at me.

“What?” I ask him as I throw myself into my armchair. “You look like you’re either taking a shit or having your first idea ever. Which is it?”

I hear Max let out a chuckle.

Nikolay’s eyes dart to him before they land back on me. “Ha ha,” he drawls sarcastically. Then he takes a sip of his drink and slams the glass onto the table. “I thought you’d come parading in your new dress, oh sister darling,” he says, squinting at me as if he can smell the lie I haven’t even told.

“Maybe you should worry less about dresses and more about tomorrow’s Game,” I snap back, noticing Hilde squirming in her seat. “As far as I can remember, it was almost as if you didn’t participate in the last one.”

My brother’s face flushes in anger. “I’ll start worrying about the Game as soon as you start filling out the dresses like you’re supposed to.”

“You little,” I start through gritted teeth, getting up to smack him across the face.

Max pulls me back into the armchair while Hilde cuts in, nervousness in her voice, “Come on, you two, let’s not fight today.”

For a second, we keep staring each other down, my brother and I. Then he shakes his head and barks out a laugh. “We’re just playing, aren’t we, Nyx?”

Normally, that goofy look of his would melt away all my anger. And I do let out a breath and give him a smile, saying, “When are we not?”

But today, nothing seems to sit right.

So I lean back in my chair and I take out my book, deciding it would be best for everyone involved if I just tuned out.

“Hey,” I hear Max say and I turn to find him glancing between me and the book in my hand.

“I’m doing your Theory of Magic homework,” I say flatly and without hesitation. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

He just looks at me for a second. “Such a good girl you are,” he says with a wink, gives me a kiss and goes back to drinking and chatting with the other two.

And I guess it’d be wrong to say I’m proud of my short temper. And it does feel a little ridiculous, being at a party with my nose in a book. But it’s nothing I’m not used to. And at least I get to have fun, instead of going around in circles in a conversation I’m barely part of.

The party raging around me, I just tune out and start reading. And the more I read, the more immersed I get. It really is original research, I think after a couple of pages. More thorough than anything I’ve read so far. And it goes into such interesting detail.

For example, it lists all the magical creatures that are said to have participated in the clash. It even includes a transcript of a conversation with one of the fighters, had while the said man was literally on his deathbed. Who knows how he managed to track him down? I skim whole pages, skipping all the info I already know.

Years, tactics, names.

Until my eyes linger on the following sentence:

“Wait a minute, back it up a bit. What was the name you just said?”

I frown, the manner of the question being uncharacteristic for the way the interview was being conducted up to that point.

So I go back a little, trying to identify the moment that led to it.

Yes, I think when I find it.

“Would you be able to remember, Mr Conrad, who you reported to while the clash was still ongoing?”

“Of course. Directly to Queen Vasilisa Romanov.” This makes my frown grow even deeper. “How could I forget? I mean, sure—”

“Wait a minute, back it up a bit. What was the name you just said?”

“Um… What did I say?”

“What did he say?”

“He said Queen Vasilisa Romanov. That’s what I put down anyway.”

“Mr Conrad, is that it? Did she write it down okay?”

“Mr Conrad, have you got something confused perhaps? There is no one by that name in our recorded history.”

“Mr Conrad?”

“Is it cold in here? Why is it so cold in here?”

And that’s where the transcript ends, followed by an explanation in brackets, saying that this was the moment they had to bring the doctor in and that the man died shortly after.

But it’s the name that keeps ringing in my head. Vasilisa Romanov.

Queen? Frowning, I let out a scoff.

For a second, I think that I must be losing my mind. Then I smile, realizing I was getting worked up about a dying man’s last jumbled-up thoughts. As Cian himself says in the interview, there is no one by that name in our recorded history, let alone a Queen. I should know. I was forced to learn the entire Romanov lineage, from the seventeenth century up to my father’s date of birth, even before I learned to read and write.

Still, it’s all so interesting. And now that Cian is done divulging all the information he’s managed to gather, he says he’ll be going into an analysis of sorts, giving three theories on why things ended the way they did.

I flip the page, eager to learn what they are.

But it’s at that exact moment that I hear a bout of cheering that’s hard to ignore. I look up to see Max, Nikolay and Hilde all squinting in the direction of the archway into the Common Room.

“Someone’s popular,” I hear Nikolay say. “Maybe we should go check things out.”

Even if they do, I think to myself, I’m staying right where I am.

“Let the kids be,” Max replies. “We’re fine where we are.”

Content with his decision, I turn my focus back onto my book.

But the noise only grows louder.

“Oh look, Nick, it’s your buddy Dahrian,” I hear Hilde say.

It instantly makes my ears prick up. I fail to stop myself from throwing a glance over my shoulder.

The first thing I spot is his smile, my heart instantly breaking into a gallop, then his eyes, then his arms, bare despite the cold. Howe. He’s being dragged to one of the center tables by a gaggle of drunk vampire girls.

“Just what the party needed,” Max snaps. “A Fiáin asshole.”

I quickly look away, fixing my eyes on my book. He didn’t spot me, thank gods.

But all of a sudden, I really don’t want to be here anymore.

I snap my book shut and I lean a little closer to Max. “Doesn’t this party suck? I’m sure there are more interesting ones in Bloodholm.”

“Lilith’s wrath strike me dead,” my brother exclaims with a burst of slightly off laughter.

I turn to throw daggers at him.

“One minute, you have your nose in your book, the other, you’re looking to go party,” he says with a squint. “You know, if you keep acting this strange, sis, I’ll have to conclude you’re planning another one of your little coups on our family. Who is it this time? Is it me?”

“Nikolay,” I hear Max cut him off in an icy cold voice.

My brother lets out a nervous laugh and gets back to his drink. “So serious,” he mutters under his breath.

I throw my fiance an appreciative look. “Max, you can do better than this,” I ask as I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, “can’t you?”

It’s never been a mystery to me, the way Max’s mind works.

He smiles and leans to give me a peck on the cheek. “In case you’ve forgotten, cupcake, I’m a fucking prince. I can always do better.”

I smile and shake my head. Then I pull away to get my stuff.

“Where are you going?” Hilde asks, a touch of hopefulness in her voice.

But she doesn’t get invited this time. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Max replies with a smug smile.

It’s distant, but I hear Howe’s laughter boom from somewhere behind me.

“Let’s go,” I urge my fiance, tugging at his sleeve.

He waves to both my brother and my cousin, saying, “See you tomorrow at the meeting, Nikolay.”

“I won’t be able to make it, Max,” Nikolay rushes to say.

Max stops, frowning.

“I’ll have to walk Howe to Graf Field,” my brother explains.

“Well, walk him after the meeting,” Max says flatly.

Nikolay shrugs. “It’s far. If I were alone, I could just run there. This way, we’ll be late to the Game. So I think you should just do it without me.”

That little fucker, I think as I stand there with my bag in my hand, ready to go. So dutiful about the whole buddy thing, but only when the alternative is a boring meeting.

“We need a family representative,” Max tells him in a lower, more pissed-off voice.

“What?” I ask, my ears pricking up. “What’s it about?”

They both ignore me.

“Nyx could do it,” Nikolay finally says, a sour look on his face.

“Go to the meeting?” I rush to ask, excited at the prospect. “I don’t know which, but sure.”

“No,” Nikolay snaps at me, “walk Howe to the Game.”

I frown. “I don’t think so,” I say, even though I understand I’m the only option. We can’t have the Fiáin Academy alpha be escorted by anyone of lower rank. At least not if we don’t want the Pied Piper to rip us a new one.

Max turns to squint at me, looking as if he’s trying to weigh two equally bad options. Then he leads me a little to the side, making my ears prick up when he leans in to say, “Can I count on you to go straight to the Game and be on your best behavior?”

It gives me pause, the question. Then I shoot him a nasty look. “When am I not on my best behavior? Besides, I don’t know why it always needs to be me, picking up Nikolay’s messes.”

“It is what it is, Anastasya,” he snaps a little. Then the look on his face grows soft again. “Come on, cupcake, this is just being a good sport. And there are higher stakes at play.”

Wish I knew what they were, I think to myself, but I don’t say anything. I shake my head, pressing my lips tight, but then I nod.

Yes, it’s just being a good sport. And why would it be a problem anyway?

***

It’s with a knot in my throat that I put on my uniform. I come to stand in front of the mirror, delaying the departure for as long as possible. Turns out to be a horrible idea. Bony, I look so bony, I think with a frown.

But it’s not like I can do anything about it.

So I make myself tear my eyes away from my reflection and leave my room, heading straight for the Entrance Hall, where His Hotness will be waiting for me.

I didn’t want to do this, I think as I make my way down the stairs. I was just starting to put it all behind me, the whole incident with Max offending him, Ricky ending up in the dungeons, Howe looking at me as if I’m the embodiment of everything that’s wrong with the world…

I cross the empty Common Room, recalling how rattled I felt for days after.

Since then, I haven’t just been fearing I’d bump into him. I’d been straight out avoiding him, like that time, a couple of days after the incident, when I was leaving the cafeteria and saw him walking straight at me. I panicked, turned on my heel and just kept going the other way.

But then I managed to forget all about it, deciding it was all just a glitch in the system due to all the stress. Except for today, I’ve been focused on classes, training, the wedding preparations, spending more time with Max…

And for a second, it all seemed neatly wrapped up. Then they do this to me. Forcing me to spend more time with him, however little.

No, best not think about that, I decide as I ride the Elevator, all alone. As soon as it opens, I step out into the crowded Entrance Hall. Just put one foot in front of the other and that’s that.

It doesn’t take long to spot him, waiting by the Brothers Grimm statue, just like last time. Only this time, he’s not on his phone. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, slowly scanning the crowd.

I take a deep breath and I keep walking.

But when I see his eyes land on me, nervousness takes hold of me, making all my muscles stiffen and one cold “Good day” leave my lips when I come to stand in front of him.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Good day?” he echoes. Then he tilts his head a little, flashing me a smile. “Come on, there must be an even more formal way to greet me.”

I should’ve resisted more, I think to myself, when they decided it would be me accompanying him. “I’m not here to live up to your expectations,” I say flatly, “I’m here to take you to Graf Field.”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t stop smiling. “You know, I had a feeling it’d be your cheerful self again.”

“And you still came?”

He just looks at me for a second, seeming fucking amused. “I did. Despite what happened that time I came looking for you in the cafeteria.”

For a second, that makes me frown, but then I realize what he’s talking about. I don’t show it. I motion for him to follow me back to the Elevator, saying, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,” he starts as he falls into step beside me, a tinge of mockery in his voice, “it was a beautiful morning, the Academy was buzzing and I’d set out on a quest, to say thanks for what you did for Ricky.” He pauses, making me give him a side-ways glance as we elbow our way through the crowd. “And I did spot this one girl that looked just like you. She saw me coming and went the other way.”

We stop in front of the crowd waiting for the Elevator and I turn to face him, finding him already looking at me. “But I guess you’d never be that rude, right?” he asks, his eyes boring into mine as a smile dances on his lips.

“Me?” I ask, my eyebrows raising in feigned surprise. “Never.”

And I turn to look ahead, frowning as I watch the crowd before us, how it’s not getting any smaller.

“But in all seriousness,” I hear him say, “you know it’s not okay to refuse a man the chance to apologize?”

It makes me turn to look at him. And there’s a light smile on his lips, but it’s obvious he’s being serious.

“Apologize?” I ask with a frown. “Why would you need to do that?”

“It wasn’t right,” he says matter-of-factly, “the way I treated you that night in the dungeon.”

I shake my head. “Knowing what you know now, sure. But at that moment in time, you were only being protective of your own. And, well…” I pause, shrugging a little. “Maybe you were a bit hostile, but as I’ve already told you…” I throw him a sarcastic little squint. “Unlike some, I’m not a snowflake.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his eyebrows raising at me.

It’s at that moment I hear the Elevator door open and I turn to look back at the crowd. What I see makes me frown. Only a dozen or so people manage to get inside before the door closes again.

“What is it?” I hear Howe ask.

My eyes still fixed on the Elevator, I say, “It usually expands to fit as many people as it needs to.” For fuck’s sake, I think to myself as I let out a sigh. “But this,” I tell Howe, “this means its magic is broken and gods know how long it’ll take us to Graf Field.”

“Can’t we walk there or something?”

I turn to look at him, thinking. Straight to the Game, Max’s words echo in my mind. Yes, I think this would be his preferred option as well. “I guess it would be faster,” I finally say.

“Lead the way,” Howe says with a grin.

“Alright.”

And I motion for him to follow me out of the crowd, down the Entrance Hall, in the direction of the gallery.

“So, why does this keep happening?” I hear him ask as he starts walking beside me.

“You expecting me to read your mind?” I drawl with a smile. “I don’t know. Laziness, self-centredness, could be a lot of things.”

I hear him let out a rough laugh. “I’m talking about you doing your brother’s duties.”

Blood comes rushing to my cheeks. “My brother is busy,” I protest, stopping and turning to look at him just as we reach the archway with a staircase leading down. “And besides, neither one of us is obliged to explain ourselves to you.”

He shrugs his shoulders, that fucking smile still on his lips. “I just thought a princess would be busier than some duke.”

It makes me so fucking mad. What right does he have to talk about me and my brother like that, I mutter to myself. My breathing heavy and my teeth gritting, I ask, “What do I have to do to make you understand that I’m not a fucking princess, yet?”

For a second, he just looks at me, the smile turning more cordial. “No worries,” he says, softly but with a touch of ice in his voice, “you just did it.”

My face still flushed, I feel a pang of regret, but I turn and I march through the archway, starting to make my way down the weathered, rarely used stone stairs.

I hear him follow me, but he doesn’t say a word.

We keep going down in silence, landing in a deserted hallway with classrooms on both sides, none of them in use at the moment, at least not to my knowledge.

A part of me expects him to fall into step beside me, but he doesn’t. We cross hallway after hallway with him walking behind me in silence, making my heart sink and my mind struggle to focus on anything else.

So when we turn another corner and find ourselves at the start of another hallway, I’m scrambling to find a way to break the silence.

I glance over my shoulder and I spot him eyeing a painting to our left. I come to a stop and so does he. “It’s from the fifteenth century,” I say, watching him watch the oil-on-canvas depiction of a bride walking down the aisle of a church in ruins.

“What’s with the coffins?” he asks, only shooting me a quick glance before he turns his attention back onto the painting.

I do the same. And it’s a disturbing sight, a mixture of dark browns, blues and reds, with barely any light coming through the church’s tall, broken windows, coffins lining the sides instead of pews.

“They’re the coffins of the women that came before her,” I say. “It’s the Robber Bridegroom.”

“The vampire?” he asks as he turns to look at me.

I nod. Then I point at the woman in a dirty white wedding dress. “See that right there? She has a blindfold on, suggesting she has no idea what she’s walking into.”

He stays silent for a second. Then I hear him ask, “You like it?”

I turn to frown at him. “Like it?”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

I let out an amused scoff. “I know a lot about the Second World War, too. Doesn’t mean I have fuzzy feelings about it.”

That makes a smile tug at his lips, my heart responding with a flood of relief.

“Is there anything here that you do like?”

I squint at him. “Why?”

“Why?” he echoes, his mouth cracking into that grin again. “Need an essay explaining my motives?” he asks teasingly. “Not sure it’d be up to your standards, but I can give it a go. What’s the deadline?”

I roll my eyes at him, but there’s a smile dancing on my lips. “Fine. Follow me.”

And I turn to keep walking down the hallway, passing painting after painting until we reach the alcove.

I slow to a stop, sensing him do the same. I point at the statue nestled inside. “This,” I say.

He stays silent for a second. “A peasant girl with a doll? Not what I expected.”

“That’s Vasilisa the Wise,” I snap at him, albeit warmly, “a famous figure where I come from.”

“Alright, alright,” he says with a laugh, raising his arms in defense.

“See the embroidery on her dress? That’s the traditional sun chariot depiction.”

He takes a step to the side, to see what I’m pointing at, and he gets so close, I can feel the heat off his body. And I’m still staring at the statue, but my attention is wholly on his proximity.

“So what’s the story behind this Vasilisa girl?” I hear him ask.

I think for a second. “You know Dame Gothel?” I don’t wait for an answer because, well, of course he knows the most famous fae of all time, the witch from countless fairy tales. “Well, this is a story of one girl’s encounter with one of the many recorded versions of her — Baba Yaga. It’s basically about the girl being kicked out of her home by her evil stepmother and stepsisters to fetch firewood from the evil witch in the middle of the harshest winter.”

I throw him a glance before I say with a soft laugh, “Of course, the three evil women thought that Baba Yaga would simply kill the girl and rid them of who they only viewed as another mouth to feed. But the girl’s doll helped her win the witch over, return carrying fire in skulls, and turn the women to ashes.”

“Weird,” he says. With the corner of my eye, I catch him giving me a side-ways glance, the look in his eyes intense and piercing. “Is it because of the story you like it? The statue, I mean?”

My heart starting to pound, I force myself to look away and fix my eyes on the statue. “I don’t know. I just do. It was donated to the school by my family, back in the nineteenth century.”

“Ah,” I hear him say, dropping his voice, “the family with a capital F. How come it’s tucked away like this?”

“It’s a bit tacky so everyone seems to hate it,” I start, doing my best to ignore the fact he seems to be looking at me, not the statue, “starting with the Duchess who first received it as a gift from her mother-in-law. Maybe that’s part of the reason I have a soft spot for it.”

“Meaning?” comes a whisper that makes my skin flush.

I turn to look at him, finding him staring at me with soft yet intense eyes. “If you want to achieve anything of significance,” I say, “you can’t worry about being liked.”

“Mm,” he hums, the sound making me lose my breath. His eyes dart to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Makes me wonder, what you plan on achieving,” he says in a whisper.

“Mm.” That’s all I say. That’s all I can say as I struggle to keep my breathing even and my eyes from roaming all over his face, his jawline, his lips.

He blows out a soft laugh, raising his eyebrows. “It was an actual question,” he says, making me snap out of it.

“It would sound ridiculous.” I turn away from him and move to keep walking down the hall, exhaling a suppressed breath.

He darts around me, blocking my way. “All the best things do,” he says with a soft, encouraging smile.

I just look at him for a second. Then I roll my eyes, I let out a little laugh and I say, “I want to change the world.” When I see his eyebrows shoot up, I rush to add, “A small part of it at least.”

And I keep standing there, my breath bated as I wait for his reaction.

Without taking his eyes off me, he smiles and says, “I have a feeling you just might.”

And for one long moment, he keeps staring into my eyes and I keep staring into his.

Until it finally hits me, that we’re just fucking standing there, staring at each other, and I snap out of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Well,” I start, forcing myself to break the silence, “we make a good team, Max and I.”

There’s a flash of a frown in his eyes at the mention of my fiance’s name. He doesn’t like him. Unsurprisingly, considering how their last interaction went. “I know Max can seem…” I don’t finish the sentence. I blow out an awkward laugh instead.

Howe’s eyes narrow, his silence coupled with the piercing stare making me feel so self-conscious. “Yeah?” he finally asks.

“I know he can seem arrogant and whatnot, but he’s actually the best Prince we have right now. Also, he and I, we won’t be like all the other royal couples.”

“No?” he asks, softly but seriously.

“No,” I insist. “Unlike the other Princes, he’s marrying for love. He believes in me. He even bet on me staying in the Games until the end.”

Why do I feel like I’m explaining myself to him?

And then, instead of commenting on what I’ve just said, he just clears his throat, turns on his heel and throws me a look over his shoulder. “We’ll be late, won’t we?”

“Yeah,” I blurt out, blushing as I rush to catch up with him.

He’s picked up the pace, I notice. And soon, he’s moving to turn another corner.

“Nope,” I say, making him stop and turn to me. “Not that way.” I point at a service elevator to my right. “This way.”

We wait for the elevator and we ride in it, all in utter silence. I feel an urge to glance at him, to see if I’ve somehow made him mad. I resist it. I just let the elevator take us straight into the noisy, buzzing kitchens with exposed brick walls and polished brass cooking stations.

But once we step out, I fail to stop myself from looking over my shoulder, where he’s standing, dumbfounded, probably over the sheer size of the place.

“Fucking hell,” I see him say, or at least that’s what I think it was. I can barely hear him over all the clatter of utensils, simmering of water and shouts from one end of the room to the other, but it makes my lips curl into a smile.

“What?” I ask, having to raise my voice a little. “You thought the Winter Solstice Ball happens at the flick of a wand?”

He rolls his eyes at me, making me swallow a laugh.

I turn back and start marching between the cooking stations, my eyes drawn — as always — to the staff’s magic making wooden spoons stir, the spice jars season and the pancakes flip all on their own, no hands in sight.

I sense him catch up with me, asking, “Are we even allowed here?”

“Lady Romanov,” Brighid — one of my favorite sous chefs — calls out from one of the work stations to our left, throwing me a beaming smile as she motions at the pot in front of her.

I walk over to take a spoon and give it a taste. “Now how am I supposed to think about anything else for the rest of the day?” I ask her as I give the spoon back. Judging by the grin, she’s more than pleased by the reaction.

I turn to Howe. “What’re you waiting for? Or are you too posh to eat out of a pot?”

Shooting me a nasty look, he takes his own spoon and gives it a try. “Wow,” he says to Brighid, his mouth cracking into a grin, “makes me think I’ve never tasted real food before.”

Brighid lets out a little chuckle, throwing me the subtlest look telling me he’s charmed her, but it’s at that moment that I hear the Elevator open from the other side of the kitchen.

Fuck, the Game. I motion for Howe to follow me, we say bye to Brighid and start walking away.

I pick up the pace once I glance at my watch and see we’ve only got a couple of minutes left. We cross the room as quickly as possible.

“So, Lady Romanov,” Howe says as we jump into the Elevator just as a group of cooks step out of it, “do you spend a lot of your time in the kitchens?”

“Of course,” I reply, making my tone as sarcastic as possible. “One needs to keep the commoners appeased, don’t you think?”

“What?” I ask, frowning, when he squints at me funny.

But he doesn’t say anything, he just keeps smiling like an idiot.

The elevator door opens, snapping me out of it and making me get a move on. I dart out, hearing the contraption disappear back into the ground. Instantly, sudden noise drowns out my very thoughts and makes me stop midstep, sensing Howe do the same. There's Lycan Forest to my left and Graf Hill to my right, but they both have bleachers set up along them, every seat already taken. On the far side, in the direction of the castle, there's the booth with the Pied Piper and the Archon, the Guardian of the Obscura's chair placed below.

And almost right in front of us, there’s the podium with all the players waiting for the start of the Game in somber silence, their backs turned to us.

I turn my focus back onto the bleachers, from which the crowd is making the hellish noise. But why are they so high?

I sense Howe come to stand closer to me. “Finally, the rematch,” he says.

I turn to look at him only to find him grinning once again.

“You’re an idiot, you know?”

He tilts his head, squinting at me with soft eyes. “You’ve finally figured it out.”

I throw him a smirk. “I don’t know if I have. But I do know I’m about to leave you biting the dust.”

“You wish…” And he breaks off, as if stopping himself from finishing the sentence.

I roll my eyes at him as soon as it hits me. “Go on, fucking say it,” I tell him with an annoyed smile.

His eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t hesitate. ”You wish,” he repeats, leaning in a little with this spark in his narrowed eyes, “Your Highness.”

It almost makes me laugh out loud. But the very next moment, my self-consciousness kicks in when my eyes dart ahead and I notice all the eyes on us.

All the players, craning their necks to stare at us, including Nikolay.

And Max.

I sense Howe tense up beside me, just before Max disappears from the platform and appears right in front of us, throwing daggers at him.

“Isn’t her work here done?” he demands, his eyes darting from me back onto him. “Or do you need her to fight for you as well?”

My heart pounds in my chest and I throw a quick glance at the alpha standing beside me.

I notice him grit his teeth, but when he speaks, it’s in a low, controlled voice. “Can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want her on their team.” He pauses, squinting at my fiance with this weird, slightly menacing smile on his lips. “But you’re right, I best leave you to it.”

And he throws me a quick glance and walks away, heading straight for the other players. I don’t say anything, I just watch him deftly jump onto the platform and disappear into the crowd.

“You know, Anastasya,” Max says in a low voice, making me turn to look at him, “I’d expect something like this from your moron brother, but you?”

The tone — the accusing tone — instantly makes my eyebrows pull down. “What are you talking about?” I ask, softly.

“Straight to the Game, remember?” he snaps at me. “You think it was for no fucking reason we agreed on it?”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do,” I insist, starting to feel pissed now because it was his fucking wishes I tried to respect when I decided we wouldn’t be waiting for the Elevator.

He throws me an incredulous look. “And this is how you chose to do it?”

“This? I don’t understand what the problem is, Max,” I urge him as I take a step closer, reaching out my hand to touch him.

He slaps my hand away. “You don’t see a problem with you letting yourself be seen barging out of the kitchen entrance with the likes of him, grinning like some half-wit?”

“The likes of him? What’re you on about? His friend was set free,” I protest, thinking Max is referring to Professor Onas’ murder. “And he himself never did anything wrong, so—”

Max waves a hand in impatient dismissal, stopping to angrily stare into my eyes. “You know what people are saying about him and women?”

The question makes blood rush to my cheeks.

But Max doesn’t wait for an answer. “He’s not the type of guy a future princess should be seen being anything more than polite with. Do you really need that explained to you?”

I just blink at him, feeling so stupid all of a sudden. “I guess you’re right.”

He just looks at me for a second, exhaling slowly. Then he laughs, wraps his arm around my waist and says, “I’m sorry for snapping like that, cupcake. I was just worried.”

I let out a pent-up breath and snuggle up tighter against him.

“It’ll be fine,” he urges as he gives me a little squeeze. “From now on, I’ll be the one making sure Nikolay is doing his duty, and you won’t even have to see the guy except at the Games.”

It makes me frown, but he doesn’t wait for a reaction. He just pulls away and starts leading me onto the platform, my eyes sweeping over the players in an attempt to spot Howe, feeling this resistance in me to never seeing him again.

And all of a sudden, I realize we have a problem, Max and I. I have a fiance I’ll be marrying in less than half a year and, despite all my attempts at denying it, I’m finding myself attracted to someone else.

But it’s not Howe that’s the problem, I think as I fix my eyes on Max walking in front of me. I guess I’m not as happy with things as I thought I was. And the only course of action I’ll be able to live with is confronting my fiance about it right after the Game.

But as soon as we step onto the platform and I stand on the tips of my toes to try to look over the other players, I see Uncle getting out of his chair and I hear his voice boom from everywhere around me.

“It seems that we finally have all our players,” he says, almost instantly making the noise from the crowd die down. “So it’s time to let our Second Game begin.”

I watch the Pied Pier and the Archon shake hands, making the Box glow. Then Uncle opens it, takes Hourglass out and flings it into the air.

The crowd cheers just as a row of three huge stone circles appears between us and the spot where Uncle is standing. I feel my focus sharpen and my muscles start to itch with the need to blow off steam.

Chapter 14 - Dahrian

Almost as soon as that bony, pompous Schwarz takes his seat again, a set of stairs appears, leading from the platform and straight onto the first of the three stone circles. I let the crowd of sixty three other players swallow and start carrying me down, but my hands are balled into fists and my mind is somewhere else entirely.

It’s still on him. The asshole prince. I can’t seem to shake it off, the urge to bash his head in with just my fists.

Here’s your chance, my fox sounds from the depths of my consciousness. Kill him in the Ring and be done with it.

“Sure,” I drawl as I follow the other players onto the circle. “Seems like an appropriate response.”

It’s not me who wants it. I couldn’t care less about that excuse for a man, he protests. Then he turns pensive. Though, if you killed him, it would clear the way to the girl.

Coming to stand near the center of the circle, I tell him in a threatening voice, “Stop it with the girl. I’m not letting you anywhere near her.”

He lets out a low, menacing chuckle. You’re about to start fighting. I think you’ll let me anywhere I want.

“Then I guess I’ll have to do this without shifting,” I snarl at him.

I don’t catch his reaction. The moment I tell him is the moment Hourglass flips and the sand starts running. The rest of the players get off the stairs, the ground underneath us starts cracking, and the stone circles shoot up into the sky, making the crowd let out an audible gasp, and me and the others around me struggle to keep our balance.

Then everything goes still and quiet again.

Planting my feet firmly, I glance around, only to realize we’re so high up in the air, I can’t see the ground from where I’m standing. There’s only the top of Graf Hill to my right and the Lycan Forest to my left, the bleachers set up along them.

I hear a murmur from the audience as the circle on which we’re standing gets enveloped in a mist that makes it hard to see even the player standing right in front of me.

And the next second, when it dissipates, I see a veritable jungle has appeared all around us. There’s a moment of silence as we all stand there, taking it all in. There are strange sounds coming from all directions, the movement of the giant, succulent leaves in the wind, the swaying of the thick vines hanging from the trees, the soft clicking of something from the shadows.

It’s only when I see a vampire guy to my left tense up that my eyes dart in its direction. There’s a crocodile on thick spider legs making its way down one of the trees.

My breathing goes shallow as I watch its movements, suddenly aware of a whole host of them observing us from both the trees and the ground as they slowly close the distance.

I sense some of the players get a move on and my eyes dart to my right, spotting a weapons rack they’re moving towards. Normally, as a shifter, a weapon would only slow me down…

I take a second to assess my fox’s state. It’s ‘the girl’ he has his focus on, standing behind us but close enough for him to catch her scent. And I know he’s not doing it because he’s stupid or reckless. He’s seen the croc spiders and decided they’re nothing to worry about.

But he is, I think to myself. He’s been behaving so strange lately and I can’t be sure he wouldn’t do something stupid.

So I dart over to the weapons rack, keeping one eye fixed on the creatures lurking from the shadows, moving as if they’re trying to slowly encircle us. If at all possible, I intend on staying the fuck away from them so I reach for something long range. A javelin.

A javelin that gets snatched from me by none other than the asshole prince. For a second, he keeps standing there, the weapon in his hand and a smirk on his face. Then he zaps himself away, leaving me struggling not to start after him so I can break his fucking neck.

Fucking asshole, I think as I throw daggers after him. But I’ve no time to lose, so I pick the next best thing, a chainshot with two heavy metal balls connected by a thick chain. I wrap it around my fist and I follow the other players, who are already taking their positions, getting ready to start moving to the other side of the circle.

There’s a moment of silence during which I throw a glance around me, spotting Romanov standing all the way to the left, preparing to move. I frown.

No weapons? She took nothing?

But it’s at that very moment that one of the players, a short fae-blooded guy, starts charging through the jungle with a loud battle cry.

The next thing I know, a croc spider is kicking its legs off a tree and slamming into the poor bastard.

He thrashes. I watch the legs wrap around him and the crocodile jaw snap open only to close once it’s around his shoulder.

The sound is sickening, making the fae let out a scream that penetrates deep into the bones.

Once it dies down, the Box zaps him out, the rest of the players, as well as the audience, still in shock.

Then we start moving again. And just like that, there’s nothing but the Game on my mind.

***

Panting, I plant my feet firmly on the ground, zero in on another one and swing my arm back, catapulting the chainshot out of my grip.

It whips at the air as it goes, but it hits the target, wrapping itself around the croc spiders mouth and making it come crashing off the tree.

Another one, I think as I glance over my shoulder to see the ground strewn with their corpses, my lips curling into a smile.

But this is no time for gloating. The other side of the first circle is fast approaching and I might only have to kill a couple more to get to it. So I snap out of it, fix my eyes back ahead and keep moving.

It makes me stop midstep, when my fox starts sniffing like crazy.

My eyes snap to my left and I see her jump down from a tree and push herself up, that knife she cut the apples with in her hand and a pile of bloodied croc spider corpses around her.

She notices me watching and for a second, our eyes meet.

My fox thrashes inside me and I almost give in, but the next moment, she’s tearing her eyes away from mine and darting ahead.

It makes me snap out of it. I want to be the first to finish the first round. I dart after her, taking one more croc spider down before the edge of the circle draws closer.

I see her leap over the chasm and deftly land on the second circle.

I come to a screeching halt, observing what kind of terrain the currently empty stone surface will birth.

My eyebrows shoot up when I see cliffs burst out, so pointy, they look downright deadly.

Where the creatures are — since this is obviously some kind of monster hunt — that I still do not know.

But I don’t plan on standing here, waiting for them to appear. So, as I watch Romanov jump from one pointy tip to the other, I make a run for it.

I leap over the chasm and I land on the other side, sensing a couple of players following me.

And it’s just as one of them, a Grimm shifter, whizzes past me, I spot the first one break off from the cliff.

I stand straight, my eyes zeroing in. It’s a large bird the color of the stone around us, imitating the shade and the texture so well, it almost serves like an invisibility cloak.

I find temporary shelter behind one of the cliff walls, peering out. My eyebrows pull down as I watch the bird do a slow circle in the direction of the shifter. Why is he just standing there, waiting for it to attack?

No, I think as I zoom in on him. His eyes are fixed on the bird, one hand raised to shield himself from the sun. He looks as if he’s here sightseeing, not fucking fighting. Add to that the fact that he seems to be smiling…

Sure, it’s just a bird, I think to myself, but cockiness will only get you killed.

And just as I think that, I spot the guy freeze and my eyes dart back to the bird and I see it’s not a regular bird after all.

I see it once it opens its mouth. Mouth, not beak. My muscles tensing up, I only have time to notice the bat head before the mouth starts releasing a sickening ringing sound, so loud and high-pitched at the same time, it disorients me completely.

Once the call dies down and I manage to snap out of it, I see the guy stumbling on his feet as the bat bird propels itself towards him. I spot a flash of teeth shooting up from the lower jaw and the next thing I know, the guy is being impaled and lifted high above the ground. Blood curdles in my veins. He’s screaming and he’s frantically tapping his shirt with his hand.

Tapping out, I think to myself. And just as I do, the bat bird disappears and the Box zaps him out of the Ring.

I glance left and right, seeing other players looking just as tense from their hiding spots. I’m sure we’re all thinking the same. This one might be a bit trickier than the last.

***

It’s a moment too late that I notice one of them flying straight at me. I’m near the center of the circle, where the cliffs are denser, but I don’t have time to dart into hiding.

The bat bird is already opening its mouth and if I let it screech, I’ll be left paralyzed for at least a couple of seconds.

So I stand straighter, I aim, I fling the chainshot and I watch it wrap itself around the creature’s neck.

My heart thudding in my chest, I wait for the sound, but there’s only silence.

My muscles relax a bit before I notice it spread its wings and start spinning around, untangling the chainshot until it’s sent flying through the air.

When I see it come straight at me, I duck, gluing myself to the ground. And that leaves me with no weapon, but as I stare into the cold, hard stone beneath me, I think I’m lucky I survived. And judging by the sounds of fighting all around me, most of the other students are still way back, me, Romanov and her asshole prince at the front.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t have to try harder.

So I don’t give my aching muscles even a minute of rest. I push myself off the ground and I keep moving.

I kill another one.

And another one.

Then a third one attacks.

I fight it off, slamming the chainshot so hard into its neck, it gets sent flying back, fails to produce any sound and disappears out of my line of sight. I hear sounds of struggle from my left and I freeze. It’s her, my fox sniffing wildly in her direction, urging me to go there.

It’s the very next second that I feel something slam into me, a pang of nauseating pain shooting through my ribs on the right side. The next thing I know, I’m being pushed backwards, one of that same creature’s teeth threatening to impale me.

I lift the chainshot and I fling it down, the hard metal ball crashing into the bat bird’s head, cracking its skull.

It slides off me and straight to the ground.

It hurts like fucking hell, I think as I press my palm onto my ribs, my mind immediately rushing back to those sounds I heard.

And as soon as I walk around one of the cliff walls, I see her. She’s getting surrounded by three of them, they’re about to paralyze her with their song and there’s no knife in her hand. She must’ve lost it somewhere.

I grit my teeth, my mind buzzing.

But just as I’m about to charge straight at her and the creatures surrounding her are about to open their mouths, her eyes narrow, she lifts her hand up and I hear this whizzing sound from somewhere to my left.

The next thing I know, she has her knife in her hand and the knife is glowing.

Within the next five seconds, all the bat birds are falling to the ground, lifeless, their throats cut and blood spurting out of the gashes.

Fucking hell, I think as heat starts washing over me.

It snaps me out of it, when I sense someone else watching. My eyes dart to my left, where I see her brother, my buddy Nikolay, observe her in silence, his eyebrows pulling down.

But the next second, someone slams into me, I double back and I see the asshole prince whiz past me, throwing me a look filled with contempt.

Fucking dick, I think to myself.

But when I turn my focus back onto her, she’s gone. And so is her fiance. And I sure as hell won’t let myself be the last to escape this hell hole of a circle.

***

It’s almost at the same time that Romanov, the asshole prince and I reach the edge of the second circle.

They leap and I leap after them.

Once we come crashing to the ground on the other side, for a second, there’s only silence.

Then the stone beneath our feet starts giving way to sand. Silky, fine sand. The whole of the circle fills up with it, but then everything stops and there’s only the breeze upsetting some of the more surface grains.

The two of them are standing not too far ahead of me. I see them hesitate, throwing each other a loaded glance.

She throws one over her shoulder as well, at me, and for a split second, our eyes meet.

Then her fiance moves. I think for a second, but I don’t follow suit, despite the finish line being clearly visible from where I’m standing. And neither does she, though her hand is hovering above her holster. We seem to be employing the same strategy. Wait until the creatures appear.

For a second, I just watch the asshole prince use his stealth to practically glide over the sand. Fucker, I think as I ball my hands into fists.

But the very next second, I see him double back, practically jumping up into the air, when the sand beneath him shifts, rising higher above the ground as if it’s coming alive. For a moment, he struggles to keep his balance, but then the sand lowers him back onto the ground.

I see him throw an amused look at Romanov.

Right before he throws me a smirk, making my blood start to boil.

Then he turns back ahead, grips his javelin tighter and starts charging through the desert all around us, straight for the finish line.

All my muscles tense up. And just as I hear other players joining us, their shoes hitting the sand behind me, a giant snake bursts out of the sand, coils itself high up in the air and comes charging down like an arrow, straight at the asshole prince. It’s got the head of a scorpio.

For a second, my heart thundering in my ears is the only sound I can hear.

But then it begins. Chaos.

All of a sudden, there are students screaming as that same snake keeps bursting out of the sand, dealing cuts with its giant pincers. Blood curdles in my veins when I see how thick yet sharp they are.

The next second, I feel the sand beneath me shift and I find myself leaping up and doing a flip, throwing myself onto the ground and rolling as far away as possible.

Once I push myself up, panting, I see one of the students with his arm cut off in a single, clean swing, but the skin above it already turning poison green. The next second, he gets zapped out of the Game.

Holy shit, I think to myself as I quickly scan my surroundings in search of a hiding spot.

There is none.

But time is definitely not on my side, I decide as I watch the beast shoot up again at the same time as yet another student being taken away. So I take a deep breath and I start running, zigzagging in an effort to make myself a tougher target.

And I do manage to put some distance between myself and the start of the circle, but I’m not as fast as I’d like. I keep having to stop, jump up into the air to avoid the scorpion snake. And then there are the sounds, the sounds of panic, screaming, flesh being torn out.

Just as I’m about to reach the center of the circle, I watch Romanov appear out of thin air before me, falling on her ass, but not wasting any time. Just as the beast comes to hover above her, she raises the hand with the knife, flings it and watches it puncture the beast’s neck, making it hiss with pain.

To my surprise, she looks in my direction, locking eyes with mine. And she throws me a sly little smile that I know means she thinks she’ll win. She’ll get to the finish line faster.

I hesitate, but I start walking around her and the beast, all my muscles tense and ready to attack as I keep moving, gaining advantage.

As the scorpio snake prepares to attack, I see Romanov try to get her knife back, but it’s stopped glowing. No magic left.

And the beast is leaning forward, starting to charge straight at her.

Against all reason, I stop. I sense someone else do the same, the asshole prince coming to stop somewhere to my right.

Then, the next second, Romanov disappears and my eyes start darting left right in search of her.

But it’s at the beast’s neck that I spot her next, pulling her knife out and jumping back down, her boots making a cloud of sand rise up when they hit the ground.

Without hesitation, without mercy, she swings her knife at her wrist and cuts, deep, making dark red blood gush out.

With the corner of my eye, I catch her fiance take a step forward, his fist clenched.

But then her knife starts glowing and she throws it, again, then calls it to her, jumps high up to catch it and while still in the air, throws it once again.

She does it, over and over again, so fast and hitting the neck with such precision, it doesn’t take her long to make the beast start swaying. It sways and it sways and then it comes crashing to the ground, splattering panting Romanov with her sticky blood.

I don’t have time to process what’s going on because I see her turn on her heel, weak in the knees but with such a determined look on her face. And she starts walking towards the finish line, towards me, and I catch her eye and she’s all bloodied and the look in her eye is so ruthless, it makes my blood rush around and my fox start clawing to be let out.

Her eyes don’t linger on mine. I see her fight off the shaking of her knees and start to sprint for the finish line, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding in my chest and my head all jumbled up.

The next thing I know, she’s jumping down, down onto the field, the scoreboard letting out that loud yet high-pitched sound marking her finishing the Game.

And then, still in some kind of trance, I feel the need to look to my left and I see the scorpio snake coming back to life.

My muscles tense up again. Of course, there are still a lot of players in the Game, I think as my eyes sweep over the desert. We need a monster to fight, right?

I ball my hands into fists. I may have let myself get a little distracted, but now that she’s gone…

As I watch the beast dive under the sand again, watching its movement under its silky surface like a hawk, I finally let my fox through.

And he charges out of me, hitting the ground running, his enormous, strong body making it possible for me to leap up, keep myself up there until the beast comes shooting out, then grab it by the neck and snap it while still in the air.

I jump down, the corpse falling behind me. And I’m panting, but my fox is enjoying the smell of blood filling his nose and the rush of adrenaline from the kill.

I don’t hesitate. I start charging straight for the finish line, almost reaching it when I remember who’s waiting down below.

Quickly, while already in the air, I shift back and I jump down, anxious despite the win. Because it’s not the Games that are on my mind.

***

As soon as I land, I have to start fighting off all the people crowding me, wanting to congratulate me, needing me to explain to them what exactly happened at this or that point in the Game.

It’s only when I politely wave them off that I realize I’ve found myself in a large fenced-out resting spot, with benches all along its edges.

When the last of the eager students disperse and I look around, my fox starts sniffing once again. She’s here, but I can’t see her. And there’s this overwhelming urge to go to her and I give in, following the trail of her scent.

It gets me wandering around, avoiding all the staff offering refreshments and medics asking if I need something fixed.

Then, as soon as I turn back to the Ring, I spot her. The two of them, that is, her and the asshole prince, standing beside one of the benches. Standing there, looking all tense.

She’s upset, my fox growls. I can sense it.

I try to stop myself, but I’m covered in all this blood, which means she won’t be able to sniff me out, and she’s shaking her head as she looks everywhere but at him, which doesn’t sit right with me. I should at least make sure she’s okay, right?

I come a little closer, hearing the asshole prince demand, “Well?”

“Well,” she replies through gritted teeth, “what reason do the rest of them have?”

He lets out a frustrated scoff. “The rest of them are men, Anastasya, for crying out loud,” he says, making my eyebrows pull down.

“Not all of them are,” she snaps back.

“Zelda and Annika?” he spits out. “You mean Zelda and Annika? You know why they do it?” He gets even more in her face, making her look away again and making me start to fume. “Their families don’t care about them, that’s why they let them do stupid fucking shit like that.”

She stays silent for a second, jaw clenched. Then she looks straight into his eyes. “It’s my power.”

“Well, it’s not suitable for a princess,” he snaps. “I mean, Anastasya…” He starts shaking his head, gesturing at the arms folded at her chest. “Look at this. You’ve fucking ruined yourself.”

And with that, he turns to walk away, but before I do the same, I catch her wrap her arms tighter around herself, grimacing in an attempt not to start crying.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself moving towards her. Then some Grimm almost knocks into me, making me snap out of it.

Luckily, neither Romanov nor the asshole prince spot me. I turn around and walk away, my entire body vibrating with rage as I make my way out of the resting spot and back to the camp. I have to get away as quickly as possible, I think as I feel my fox trying to break himself free.

Angry, we’re both so angry, we could snap his neck without so much as a second of hesitation. And that’s not good.

Chapter 15 - Nyx

Irush into the Elevator, my mind buzzing and my hands balling into fists. I can barely breathe, that’s how pissed and disoriented I feel. Luckily, there’s no one here with me. They’re all still out there, busying themselves by singing each other’s praises, especially the Grimms, who are currently in the lead, the result being twenty two to only ten.

I try to focus on it myself. After all, I did make it. The Second Game is done and I’ll be in the third one as well. But no matter what I do, my mind refuses to linger on the achievement. All it wants is to keep feeling the fresh cuts on my forearm as it conjures up images of my fiance grabbing it.

The Elevator spits me out into the House of Lilith Common Room and I move to cross it, and still, I barely register my surroundings.

It’s for that reason that I almost trip when someone appears to block my way.

“For fuck’s sake, Nikolay,” I say as I grab my chest with both my hands, struggling to stop my heart from pounding.

My brother just keeps standing in front of me with a serious look on his face. More serious than, well, ever, at least since Father died. “Next time,” he says in a flat but tense voice, “you need to tap out.”

I just blink at him for a second. “Tap out?” I frown. “What’re you talking about?”

“Tap out of the Game.”

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “That I understood. What for, that’s the question.”

Gritting his teeth, he gets in my face, making me take a step back with a growing frown. “You’re ruining things, Nyx,” he whispers, “can’t you see that?”

“Ruining things?” I echo, feeling more tired by the second. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point of the Games to stay until the end?”

“You’re being vulgar,” he insists in a voice filled to the brim with contempt. “It’s vulgar, the way you’re acting out there.”

For a second, I just look at him, finally realizing this is about my Blood Magic. And the very thought of getting into it right now, it makes me bone tired and desolate. “Please, Nikolay,” I insist in a low, weak voice, “I can’t do this right now.”

And I move to push past him.

He comes to block my way, his frown having grown deeper. “I don’t care,” he hisses at me, raising a clenched fist to his stomach without taking his eyes off me. “I never should’ve let you hang out with that asshole. Those shifters, they’re all bloody lowlifes.”

Normally, I’d just roll my eyes at him. Now, all I want to do is cry. “Yeah, whatever,” I say and I move to push past him, again.

And again, he blocks my way, this time taking my upper arm into his grip. “There are people out there watching these games,” he starts through gritted teeth, “important people. We’re trying to sell the land to them and you’re behaving like a fucking madwoman right in front of their eyes.”

I barely register what he calls me. “The land?” I demand. “You’re trying to sell my land?”

“Our land, Nyx,” he reminds me.

Well, technically, it’s not, I think to myself. Father left it to me and me only. But I don’t say anything.

I just break my arm free, my heart cracking in my chest, and I run out of the Common Room. I hear him call after me, but I don’t even turn around.

***

I close the door behind me, my mind buzzing and my muscles clenched. The silence and the privacy of the portrait room is so complete, so welcoming, at first it feels downright odd.

But no one’s ever found me here. And no one ever will.

I let my body slide down to the floor and I fix my eyes on Lady X. It brings a certain relief, seeing her looking the same as always, observing me from the soft shadows of her picture-perfect, secluded garden.

But the relief is short lived. The shock, the anger, the deep, deep sadness, they all come rushing back up to the surface, making me hug my legs and lay my forehead on my knees in search of comfort in darkness.

Forget, I tell myself, just forget.

But the images of the look in Max’s eyes refuse to desert me, and so does the ghostly grip of his hand on my aching wrist.

“You’ve fucking ruined yourself.”

The words dig into me and they burn and they burn, clawing themselves deeper and deeper, until all I can do to stop myself from reaching for my knife is bite my lip until it bleeds.

Serves me right, I guess. And as soon as I think that, it’s as if the sadness dissipates and I look up and I fix my eyes on Lady X again, a joyless, desperate smile on my lips.

“Serves me right to think I can drop the act for even a second, right?” I ask her.

No reply. Just that meek, subservient look in her eyes.

It makes me start to fume, my breathing becoming heavier as I keep staring at her, more intently by the second.

“I know, yeah,” I tell her, bitterness lacing my every word, “you would’ve done it so much better than I did. If they’d even let you participate in the Games. You would’ve gasped and asked for assistance, been the perfect damsel in distress, right? And afterwards, your fiance would beam at you, telling you how proud you’ve made him. And then you’d ride off into the sunset with him, yeah?” I pause, breathing heavily. “Or would you?”

No reply.

“Tell me what you’d do,” I insist through gritted teeth.

Still, nothing.

“What about the land?” I demand as I spring onto my feet. “What would you do about the land that your father left you? Would you just keep going, changing from morning to evening dress as they take away piece by piece of your heart? You would, wouldn’t you? Just like they all did, just like they all do, turning blind eyes to much worse than that, wining and dining with children dying outside their gilded gates, am I right, Lady X?”

For a second, I think I’ve caught a glimpse of something in her eyes.

But she just keeps looking at me, all docile and smiling.

“Am I fucking right, you stupid fucking bitch?” I demand as I take a step closer and I slam a fist into her face, as if she’s a living and breathing being, as if she’s the enemy.

Once again, no reply. I let my fist slide down the painting, my teeth gritted.

“Our land, Nyx,” I hear my brother’s voice in my head.

Well, it’s his land, I snap back. It’s Father’s land you’re trying to sell.

And it’s the last fucking thing I want to do right now, I think as I stand straighter, determination flooding my body.

But I’m going to go get dressed for the Ball, I’m going to find my fiance and I’m going to tell him the deal is off.

***

I fasten the little silver clasps and tighten the little black-leather ribbons. Once I’m finished, I come to stand in front of my bedroom mirror, seeing my lips pressed tight and my eyebrows pulled down. It’s an elaborate, beautiful dress, the sleeveless bodice tailored to look like soft, chic armor and from it, a waterfall of black satin flowing onto the floor, almost entirely covering my black, block-heel boots. Deserving of a future princess. I just don’t feel like one.

And I’m not supposed to feel like one, not now that I’m on a mission, I remind myself.

But just as I turn on my heel to grab the metal-studded clutch off my bed, I hear a knock at the door, my muscles immediately tensing up.

I smell him even before he opens the door, softly, slowly.

Max, a bouquet of black roses in his hands.

My gut twists and my muscles stiffen as I watch him approach with a tentative smile on his lips, his eyebrows raised in apology.

“I’ll be frank, cupcake,” he says as he comes to stand an arm-length away, watching my reaction. “I’m here to grovel. Whatever you need to forgive me for the way I behaved today, you’ll get.”

And he takes a step closer, holding the bouquet out for me, but it only makes me take one back, leaving him frozen where he found himself.

Why, I think as I look at him. Why did he have to do it?

I swallow around a lump in my throat, deciding to stop hesitating. “I hear you’re trying to sell my family’s land.”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes. He stands straighter. At first, he just squints at me, but then the look in his eyes grows softer. “This is not the way I imagined breaking the news to you,” he says as he takes a step closer.

I take one back. “You know what interests me?” I demand. “How is it that you didn’t need the owner of the land to come to those secret meetings with you?”

“Come on, Anastasya,” he says with a wave of his hand. “You always talk about how much you hate those kinds of things — the sales meetings, the dry conversations, the forced smiles.”

“I don’t care for courtrooms either,” I reply flatly, “but if I had to come defend myself, I think I’d somehow manage to put that aside.”

“These people,” he insists, “they’re not as open-minded as I am. It’s men they want to do business with.”

I look deeper into his eyes, trying to gauge whether he’s being honest. It does seem like it, and I guess that’s something, at least, I think to myself. But I just can’t shake it off. “Well,” I say, “I don’t see a reason for us to do any kind of business with them.”

He shakes his head, throwing me an incredulous look. “Anastasya, you’re a smart girl. You know that, soon, there’ll simply be no money to run it all.”

Balling my hands into fists, I take a step closer. “I only have two years until I graduate,” I snap through gritted teeth, “and the land was left to me by my father, not to sell, but to cherish and improve on.”

“You don’t think I took all of that into account?” he asks, making a bit of my anger die down. “It’s why I’m negotiating a clause to keep you Head of Council,” he says as he takes a step closer and takes my wrist in his hand. “The sale will only bring a cash injection, the rest will stay the same.”

I don’t pull my hand away, but I have to force myself to talk. “Look, Max,” I start, albeit hesitantly, “I care about the land and what happens to it, deeply. But you’re missing the point.”

He tilts his head at me, squinting a little.

I stay silent for a moment. Before the Game, I’d decided to talk to him about what’s going on with Howe. But all of a sudden, that seems the least of our problems. “I thought we’d be in this together,” I finally squeeze out, feeling myself getting choked up.

“Of course we will,” he rushes to say, dropping the bouquet to the floor to take me in his arms. “We are,” he insists when I just keep standing there like I got turned to stone. “And I thought I was doing a good thing with the land, but I promise, no more secrets like that.”

I throw him a squint, but I can’t relax, my mind flashing with images of him coming to tell me off before the Game. “Alright, I believe you,” I tell him as I tentatively put my arms around his shoulders.

And there’s this resistance in me, but I push through it and keep going. “But I thought you’d be giving me the respect I deserve as your future wife. I thought I told you you can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to jump through whatever fucking hoop you motion at.”

I watch his eyebrows pull down. “You talking about you being late for the Game today?”

I nod, however hesitantly.

“Anastasya, what exactly did I do, hm?” he asks as he pulls away, a frown creasing his forehead again. “You told me I can’t be ordering you around and I told you I’d respect that.”

The words send my mind buzzing.

“And?” he demands. “Was I ordering you around?”

For a second, I stay tongue tied. “No,” I finally say.

And I see him relax, but I fail to stop myself from insisting, still feeling the same kind of embarrassment he put me through the night Professor Onas got killed.

“But you did tell me you’d be taking care of it,” I tell him, gently, “and you did decide there’s someone I won’t be seeing anymore without even talking to me about it.”

I pause to look deeper into his eyes, to make that connection. “Don’t you understand we can’t do it like that? If we’re to be married, especially if we’re to be a ruling couple, we have to be in it together, but at the same time, you also have to let me deal with my own shit, on my own.”

“And when I see you’re not?” he protests, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I can’t even get involved? Is that what you’re asking of your future husband? To not care? Do you think that’s normal?”

For a second, his words render me speechless. “No, of course not,” I finally blurt out. And I still feel this resistance, but I’m no longer so sure of myself when I say, “But that’s not what I meant. That’s not the problem here.”

He just looks at me for a second. “Fine,” he then says, throwing me a warm smile as he comes to stand closer. “We’ll just pretend today didn’t even happen. Would that fix it, cupcake?”

And he takes my wrist in his, raising his eyebrows at me.

For a second, I hesitate, wishing with all my heart I could just say yes.

But his fix doesn’t change what hurts most of all, I think as my eyes dart to my wrist in his hand.

You’ve fucking ruined yourself.

Gritting my teeth, I try to break free.

He doesn’t let me. He only tightens the grip, turning my palm up and looking down at the scars. I have to fight the need to squirm. “Hey,” he asks as he looks up at me again, “you know I didn’t mean any of that?”

“I don’t,” I say flatly, but not without hesitation.

“Well, I didn’t,” he leans to whisper in my ear. “You know I love you, cupcake. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I wait for him to pull away. “Except for the scars.”

He shakes his head. “That’s nothing.”

“You don’t mean that,” I say, a tinge of hopefulness in my voice.

“Oh yes, I do,” he replies with a smile, looking deep into my eyes as he wraps his arms around me. “I just got so worried when I saw what you were doing today. You know how dangerous Blood Magic is. It takes a certain type of person to be able to handle it.”

The words sting, but I dismiss them. And his voice is so tender and loving when he says, “And I just don’t want you getting hurt with no fucking reason except showing off. You do understand that?”

For a second, I just stare into his eyes. And that resistance doesn’t dissipate, not entirely, but I feel my own gaze soften as I nod. “Of course, Max,” I say in a much gentler voice.

That seems to make him happy. He throws me a grin, lets go of me and claps his hands, looking deep into my eyes. “Now, won’t you let me give you a present?” he asks as he rummages for something in his waistcoat pocket.

What he produces nearly blinds me. It’s a pendant on a black silk strap, an elaborate aged-silver frame with a large diamond, the biggest I’ve ever seen.

“It was my grandmother’s,” he says as he walks around me to put it around my neck. “I thought it’d go with your eyes.” He fastens it and comes to look at me with a smile. “And it does. It’s a play of light and darkness.”

Absent-mindedly, I walk up to the mirror and raise my fingers to the diamond, feeling its smooth, cold surface.

When I look at Max’s reflection, I see his eyebrows shoot up and his smile grow bigger as he tilts his head, waiting for something.

“What do you say?” he finally asks.

The question snaps me out of it. “Thank you,” I finally say as I throw him a wide smile, suddenly knowing exactly what to do to fix everything.

I turn around and I kiss him, passionately. And I slide my hand down his crotch, making him let out a groan and grab me by the waist. I tease him a little, before I turn around again, press my palms against the surface of the mirror and watch him eagerly unzipping his pants, lifting my dress up and getting inside me.

As soon as he does, I start touching myself, locking eyes with him in the mirror, determined to get him turned on by it instead of upset.

It doesn’t work. I almost instantly see him frowning. He tries to pry my hand away, but I don’t let him.

It’s just that the look he’s giving me is like a cold shower, so I get him out of me and I turn to face him, flustered and hurt, but desperate to make him understand me.

He’s still frowning, but I put my arms around his shoulders and lean to whisper in his ear, “What? Don’t you want it to be nice for me?”

“Nice for you?” he asks as he pulls away. “Isn’t it nice for you already?”

“I just want us to be even closer, Max.”

“You’re the one refusing to give me the kiss, not the other way around.”

“It’s closeness first, then the kiss.”

“And you have to use your fingers to feel closer to me? I’m not enough for you?”

The statement renders me speechless.

There’s a second of silence.

Then, pulling away and throwing his hands up, he lets out an angry scoff. “Why can’t you be like all the other women, Nyx?”

My mind buzzing and this shame flooding my entire being, I find myself unable to react in any way.

For a second, he just looks at me.

Then he comes to give me a hug. “Hey, it’s fine, cupcake,” he says.

And I don’t push him away, but I don’t snuggle up either, my mind buzzing.

“You’re still a little out of it. It’s that fucking Blood Magic messing with your brain.” He pauses to let out a frustrated breath, then gives me a warm smile. “But we’ll have the entire winter break, including the honeymoon, to pick up where we left off.” He gives me a little wink. “And you know I’ll be taking you someplace real nice, don’t you?”

“I do,” I say, trying not to sound too flat.

My mind still buzzing, I give him another kiss, on the cheek this time, and I move to finally get us out of my room and to the Ball.

But before I can even open the door, he appears next to me, his eyes darting to my wrist as he asks, “Won’t you be covering that up?”

For a second, I just blink at him. Then I rush to do as he says.

But as I let him lead me out of my room, through the Common Room and across the Entrance Hall, all in the direction of the music, there’s this coldness growing in the depths of my stomach.

And the sense of something different existing out there, calling out to me in a way that’ll be hard to resist.

Chapter 16 - Dahrian

“Dahrian,” I hear Ricky’s voice from my right, drowning out all the chatter and the music. I don’t stop, but I turn my head to look at him just as we walk past the Brothers Grimm statue. He’s squinting at me. “People are saying hi and you’re not saying hi back.”

“Right right,” I rush to say, still feeling as if I’m waking from some kind of dream. “Thanks, Ricky.”

The Entrance Hall is buzzing and now that I’m forcing myself to focus, I can see a lot of students trying to catch my eye as we walk. “Hi, how’s it going?” I nod to one I think I’ve met before the First Game, out in some hallway when I was looking for a bathroom. Smiling from ear to ear, he nods back.

And it shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering the amount of people here where there’s no party, but once we step through the archway and into the Main Hall, the crowd still makes me stop midstep.

“Wow,” I hear Ricky say.

It’s all so luxuriously decorated, like some winter wonderland, so it’s hard to keep focus on one thing at a time. Icicles hanging from the high vaulted ceilings, decorated pine trees at every corner, a large crystal podium to the front center.

What snaps me out of it is a plump fae girl coming to stand right in front of me, some unknown plea in her eyes as she scans my outfit. I frown, tucking the bandage wrapped around my wrist deeper into the sleeve of my suit jacket.

“Would it be possible to get an autograph?” the girl asks. “I think your fox was out of this world.”

I shake my head, slowly but with determination, as I grab a shot glass off some passing waiter’s tray. “Thanks, but no.” I have to force myself to give her a smile before I throw the shot back.

And she looks a little disappointed, but not like she really minds.

So when I move to keep walking and notice Ricky throwing me yet another funny look, it puzzles me. It even annoys me a little.

I take him straight to the bar to the left of the podium, all the while scanning the room for a certain dark-haired princess. I prop myself on my elbow and gesture for the bartender to give me a beer from the fridge behind his back.

And I turn to Ricky, who’s just standing there, as if he’s waiting for something, and I ask, “What?”

He winces a little as he approaches the bar, resting his forearms on it. “I just thought it was a little rude of you.”

It takes me a second to understand what he’s talking about. But as soon as I do, I let out a scoff. “Come on, mate, autographs?” I say as I take the beer out of the bartender's hand. I gulp it all down, I set the bottle down and I explain, “I’d feel like a fucking asshole. She should try her luck with the Prince of Assholes. I’m sure he’d be happy to give it to her.”

Ricky frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but then it occurs to me and a flame ignites inside me. “Didn’t you say you’re keeping track of the bets?”

“I am.”

“And didn’t you say you saw the Prince of Assholes bet on himself?”

“I did.”

He believes in her, she tells me. Lying bastard, I curse to myself, feeling my breathing becoming heavier as I grab and down another three shots off some wandering tray.

“What’s the matter with you?” I hear Ricky say.

I fix my eyes back on him, frowning as he himself squints at me. “What’s the matter with me?” I echo. “Why’re you asking me that?”

And I can tell he’s not indifferent to the tone of my voice, but he just looks at me for a second and then says, frankly and to the point, “You’ve been off lately, especially today, and it’s making me worried.”

Now that gives me pause. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He’s right, I think to myself. Throughout today’s Game, how much time did I spend focusing on winning and how much time on watching her win?

So I let out a sigh, I lock eyes with my friend and I force myself to say, “I’m going to need a favor, Ricky.”

“Of course,” he says, shaking his head eagerly. “For you, anything.”

“You know the future princess?”

His lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, turns out she’s a Blood Magic user. What a nice twist, huh?”

“Right,” I reply absent-mindedly. “Anyway… I’ll need you to help me stay away from her.”

“Stay away from her?” he asks with a frown. “What for?”

I hesitate for a second, but then I order another beer, I take a step closer to him, practically getting in his face, and I drop my voice a little. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t breathe a word of it to anyone, ever, got it?”

Ricky nods vigorously.

I down the beer, to brace for what’s coming. I set the bottle down and I look straight into his eyes. “I can’t seem to stop flirting with her,” I tell him, as flatly as I can.

He laughs. Then, when I don’t say anything, he frowns, leaning in a little but not taking his eyes off me. “The princess?” he practically hisses in an attempt to keep his voice down. “Are you out of your mind? She’s engaged to the goddamn prince.”

What would he say if I told him that just today, I found myself almost moving to fucking kiss her? I’d never hear the end of it.

I let out a sigh. “I don’t care that he’s the fucking prince, Ricky. I just care that she’s engaged.” I pause, not looking away even though I’d prefer to. “But whenever I find myself near her, no matter how hard I try, everything I say or do comes out flirty.” I blow out a frustrated breath, squeezing the bottle in my hand. “It’s like it’s out of my fucking control.”

My friend just squints at me for a second. “Are you… falling for her?”

I shake my head, vigorously. “No, no, I’m not,” I insist. “It’s my fox,” I say as I dig a little inside, sniffing out his mood. Broody, which is very unusual after a battle won. “He’s being weird about her and it’s messing with my brain.”

“That’s strange,” Ricky says under his breath, thinking. “What do you think could be the reason?”

“It’s beside the point,” I snap. “I told you why,” I tell him, raising a finger to make sure I’m heard, “but now I need you to set it aside and focus solely on keeping me away from her. Got it?”

He nods, and I’m pleased with how serious he looks about it. So I nod as well and for a second, I just keep standing there, propped up on the bar, avoiding the stares of the girls from the tables all around us. Now that they’ve seen my fox, they’ll be coming at me even more.

I hear Ricky talk to the bartender, trying to order this very particular brew and getting into all the details about it. But I’m busy trying to talk myself into it.

My mind is still flashing with the images of her covered in blood, that ruthless look in her eyes, and then that face she made when that asshole talked to her after the Game. And I can’t remember the last time I felt this unfocused, craving something without even knowing what.

But it’s the party after the Game and I’ve been neglecting my pack. So despite being in no fucking mood for socializing, I catch Ricky’s eye and I grab us both a beer. He excuses himself from his conversation with the obviously bored bartender and I motion for him to follow me.

“We’re going to show our boys and girls what it means to party,” I tell my friend and with the corner of my eye, I see excitement flashing through his eyes.

***

We’re on our second idiotic drinking game when my fox starts sniffing wildly once again. By the feeling in my gut, which is at the same time sinking and soaring, I know exactly what’s happened.

I look away from one of the O’Malley brothers trying to mime something to us and I fix my eyes on the archway, all the way on the other side of the huge hall. And there she is, stepping into the room with his arm wrapped around her waist. My fox snarls and I do the mental equivalent of kicking him with my boot.

I tear my eyes away, but my mind doesn’t follow. I haven’t seen her that dressed up since the day she showed me around the Academy. And it’s making my heart beat faster, thinking of the possibility of her eyes landing on me, even in passing.

So when a timid male voice booms from the speakers all around us, I immediately breathe a sigh of relief.

“If we could ask all our magnificent players to come up to the stage, please,” the announcer says as I see the lights hit the podium and the music and the chatter die down a little.

Fuck. Not good after all. I glance around, praying I won’t see her among the students approaching the podium. But I do.

“Come on,” I hear Ricky’s voice from my left. My head snaps to him and I see him nudging me to lead the way. “You’re the alpha. Or have you quit?” he asks with a smile.

Sure feel like doing it right now, I think to myself. But I don’t say that. With a smile, I get up, I motion for everyone else to follow me and I throw Ricky a side-eye glance. “Where’d you run off to? We had to make up the rules for some of the games along the way.”

I see blood rush to his cheeks. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he says a little shyly.

I don’t stop walking, but I don’t take my eyes away from him either. My mouth cracking into a grin, I let out a low wolf whistle and I shove his shoulder with my fist. “Go, Ricky.”

He throws me an annoyed smile, but that’s where the interaction stops, because we reach the podium and start climbing. With the corner of my eye, I spot her picking the hem of her dress up off the floor, flashing the smooth white skin of her leg as she lifts it to climb. I imagine it wrapped around me, her eyes boring into me.

Get it the fuck together, I snap at myself.

Facing the crowd in front of the podium, we all line up in silence, the players throwing smiles at each other as they do. Her and I, we stay on the opposite sides of the row.

“Now that we have everyone here,” the male voice continues, “we promise we won’t keep you long. This is just to say it’s been a wonderful journey so far and we still have thirty six of you to watch in the Third Game, which is to be held on February 1st, in a little more than a month. Isn’t that amazing?”

The crowd cheers, some of the people throwing in a whistle here and there. The noise throbs in my head.

“And now, a word from your Guardian,” the announcer says, struggling to be heard.

But when Ludwig Schwarz emerges from the crowd and starts climbing the stairs, everyone goes quiet.

Is he walking funny?

“Hello, everyone,” he says in that low, raspy voice of his, as he gives us all a nod and turns to face the audience.

I watch him closely. I haven’t had a chance since the murder and I know he was never accused, but it was also never proven that he’s not guilty. Corruption, probably. After all, he is a member of the holy Romanov Dynasty.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to say how miserable I am to be here tonight,” he starts, making my eyebrows immediately pull down.

I throw a glance at Ricky, who throws one back, also frowning. I hear a low murmur from everywhere around me.

But the Guardian of the Obscura continues as if nothing’s happened. “This is a year that I won’t forget for as long as I live. Especially now that I’ve been accused of murder.”

What the… There’s shifting in the audience, deep frowns, somber murmurs.

“I meant to say,” Schwarz rushes to correct himself, “especially since I’ve been chosen to be the Guardian of the Obscura.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “I won’t be giving some long-winded speech,” he says. “All I really wanted to say is congratulations to all our players on making it to the Third Game. And may our guests hate it here so much that they leave as soon as possible.”

Now, that creates chaos. All of a sudden, I see members of my pack stepping out of the row in which we’re standing, their fists clenched as Schwarz tries to make himself heard over all the shouts coming from the audience.

Ricky by my side, I rush to step between him and the O’Malley brothers, who’ve gotten him surrounded.

“Don’t, fellas,” Schwarz pleads with them as they throw daggers at him, “this is some kind of mistake.”

“Is it?” one of the O’Malley brothers demands.

“Stop it,” I growl at them just as some of the other professors rush to the podium.

“Enough,” a clear, authoritative voice booms from somewhere behind me.

Everyone stops. And I mean everyone.

My head snaps back and I see people letting the Pied Piper through. Exceptionally tall, intelligent-looking and scary, those are the words I’d use to describe her. Her black eyes sweep over all of us, making my skin prick, but she doesn’t linger. She walks over to us, to Schwarz, making me and Ricky take a step back, the O’Malley brothers dispersing as if they were children caught eating cookies before dinner.

I strain both my eyes and my ears, so as not to miss a thing. She leans to whisper something in Schwarz’s ear. When she pulls away, the expression on her face is unchanged. Indifferent yet determined. But his is the expression of a man helpless in his own anger.

My breath held, I watch him clear his throat and leave the podium, in utter silence and without giving any of us so much as a glance.

“What’re you waiting for?” the Pied Piper asks, making me tear my eyes away from the seething professor. She’s looking around the room, at people frozen in anticipation. “There’s a lot of alcohol that needs to be consumed as quickly as possible,” she says in a flat yet somehow playful voice. “I suggest you get on it.”

I think it’s the tone of her voice, if not her entire presence that makes the crowd around me relax.

The very next moment, the Pied Piper is taking her leave while everyone else is picking up where they left off.

I notice the other players start to disperse and my eyes land on Romanov, who’s about to go down the stairs with her fiance with a serious look on her face. For a second, our eyes meet and she hesitates, but she throws me a half-smile.

I throw one back and try to force myself to tear my eyes away from her before it becomes weird.

“Hey,” I hear Ricky say and I turn to look at him.

His eyes are narrowed, darting from me to her.

I blow out a joyless laugh. “Good man,” I say as I pat him on the back. “Up for one more drink?” I ask, eager to drown my sorrows.

Ricky gives me a sympathetic smile, nods and lets me lead him back to the bar. Where I quickly prove to be the worst, rejecting everyone’s attempts at striking a conversation with me and failing, again and again, to pay attention to Ricky’s speculation on how the next game will turn out.

No matter what I do, my mind keeps running in circles, going from the latest Schwarz incident and how concerned it’s making me feel about my pack, to the fact that she’s here somewhere, with a fiance who’s lying to her and who could so easily be exposed.

It’s only once Ricky finishes talking about the O’Malleys’ tendency to jump the gun in combat and there’s a moment of silence that I snap out of it. And I find Ricky eyeing a group of professors to our left.

He must have given up on trying to have an actual conversation with me.

But he is watching one of them a little too intently.

“What is it?” I ask him, making him turn around with his eyebrows raised.

I motion at the group he was sort of staring at.

“Oh,” he says, a smile lighting up his face as he takes a quick glance. “There’s Professor Siegert. I’ve been meaning to ask him something about Mind Magic, something that won’t stay out of my head.”

“Go,” I tell him.

He squints. “You sure?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, rolling my eyes at him in an attempt to be less of a dud. “Five minutes won’t kill me.”

He gives me a smile and I turn back to my beer, thinking I might actually enjoy a moment of solitude. I need one, to come up with a plan to protect my pack and to talk myself out of going to confront Romanov about the asshole prince. The one she thinks believes in her.

It’s none of my business, I tell myself. It’s none of my fucking business.

But as soon as Ricky leaves, I spot her, walking by in a large group of people, all looking holier than thou, with her fiance at the front. Her jewelry sparkles in the dim lights of the Main Hall.

She sees me looking and I raise my bottle in some kind of face-saving greeting, and she slows down, returning the stare for a second. Then she leans to say something to the girl to her right and I breathe a sigh of relief, taking another sip of my beer.

But the next time I look up, she’s walking straight towards me, making all my muscles tense up.

***

“Is it any good?” she asks as she comes to stand next to me, the dress that’s gliding after her making a soft, caressing sound.

I look into her eyes, so big and so full of some secret life, and I forget what she’s just asked me.

She raises her eyebrows at me. “The drink you’re having,” she repeats. “Is it any good?”

I rush to clear my throat. “Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out all rough and low. “Want one?”

“Want?” she echoes with a frown, but her lips are almost curling into a smile, making my heart pound. “More like need.”

It’s at that very moment that I spot Ricky behind her back, frowning at me as he approaches. Nope, I think to myself as my eyes dart to her, standing there talking to me. As quickly and subtly as possible, I gesture for him to get away.

Romanov throws a glance over her shoulder and turns her eyes back onto me questioningly.

“Sorry,” I rush to say, “it was nothing. You were saying…”

And I call for a beer for her, urging myself to get it together.

“I won’t be long, don’t worry,” she says, a little tentatively once again, “I just realized I never actually congratulated you.”

The bartender slides her beer to her.

I shake my head, genuinely smiling for the first time tonight. “Nothing to congratulate me for. It was you who really knocked it out of the park.”

“Meh,” she says with a wave of her hand, making me let out a rough laugh. And then she smiles, albeit a little stiffly, and looks around, seemingly at a couple of women staring in our direction, saying, “Seems like you won’t want for victories either.”

It makes me frown, the very thought of her picturing me with other girls, but the very next second, her head is snapping to her left and my fox is letting out a low growl.

We’re not alone anymore. There’s the fiance standing next to her, scowling at me.

It instantly makes my blood start to boil.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarls.

I take a deep breath to calm myself, but I don’t have time to say anything.

“Max,” Romanov calls in a warning voice, making me turn to her and see her throw him this surprised, pissed-off look as she grabs him by the upper arm, forcing him to look at her. “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“I saw it, Anastasya,” he says through gritted teeth, “I saw you accept a drink from him.”

“So?” she snaps. “I accepted one from your stupid cousin, too.”

“You’ll give him ideas,” he snaps as he turns to throw daggers at me. “We’re leaving.”

“Well, I’m not,” she says as she folds her arms, her face flushing with embarrassment as she avoids looking in my direction.

It’s none of my business, I chant to myself as I keep gritting my teeth. It’s none of my fucking business.

Still, my fox starts snarling as soon as I see the asshole prince grit his teeth and then grab her by the upper arm. “I said, we’re leaving,” he spits out as he starts trying to drag her away.

And just like that, something in me snaps.

I take a step forward, balling my hands into fists in an effort to stay in control. “I don’t believe that’s the way to treat her,” I hear myself growl.

Both their eyes snap to me.

There’s a second of deafening silence before the asshole prince lets go of her arm, gets in my face and drawls, “You did not just say that.”

I sense some of the people around us start to pay attention to what’s going on. But I can’t bring myself to care anymore. I return the favor, taking a step forward so he has to take one back. “But you see,” I drawl, “I did.”

There’s a flash of anger through his eyes before he eyes me up and down with contempt, spitting out, “She’s my fucking fiance, you fucking asshole. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

What the… I grit my teeth so hard, I’m grimacing, all my restraint falling away. “Including disrespecting her like that? I don’t think so.”

For a second, he just looks at me. “What the fuck?” he yells out.

And he shoves me, hard, in the chest, and the very next second, I see everyone around us stop and I hear her yell out, “Max!”

But it’s too late. I stare at him for a second. I’ve never hated anyone this much before. And I fail to stop the anger from consuming me and I shove him back, even harder than he shoved me, and I send him flying back into the circle of people around us.

All hell breaks loose. He rushes back, I get his fist in my mouth and someone slams into me from behind. My ears ringing with people’s shouting, I swing my arm back and I land a blow myself, kicking him in the ribs. It gives me so much pleasure, seeing him grimace and bend over, his hands flying to his chest.

Rip him to shreds, I hear my fox command and I can already picture the blood, the very thought giving me a surge of adrenaline.

But just as he stands straight and I move to land another blow, she pushes herself between us, throwing me such an angry, disapproving look that it makes me freeze in place. It’s like a cold shower on a raging fire.

“No, stop it,” she yells out, blocking her fiance as he tries to push past her, cursing under his breath. She turns to him and I hear her say, clearly upset, “Fine, I’ll go. Just stop.”

I’m only vaguely aware of some of the other students still fighting around us, lazily and drunkenly. My eyes are fixed on the two of them as they turn and start walking away. The asshole prince is throwing comments at people staring, looking all too jolly all too quickly, considering he’d just tried to rip me to pieces.

But it’s her that my eyes linger on. And she doesn’t even turn around to throw me a glance, so I don’t know what expression she’s wearing right now. But there’s this tension in her shoulders, her body in general, that gives me a bad feeling.

Then I see his hand dart to her upper arm and squeeze. She doesn’t break it free, but she does become even tenser, making my fox start letting out a low growl.

Bad feeling. Bad, bad feeling.

But it’s none of my fucking business, I remind myself, recalling the look she threw me when I just now tried to stick my nose in it. So I force myself to go back to the bar, putting on an indifferent face while seething inside.

***

It doesn’t work, my trying to distract myself by talking to the O’Malley brothers. I can seem to only think about one thing. So while the party is still raging, I finish my drink and I excuse myself, saying it’s been a long day and I really need some rest.

I walk out of the Main Hall and into the Entrance Hall, where there are only a dozen or so drunk students scattered around, talking and laughing in low, tired voices.

Feeling worse than I’ve felt in a long time, I start moving for the Elevator, wondering if I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight.

But before I can even make it halfway, I spot her coming from the direction of one of the inner courtyards. She has her eyes fixed on the floor and an absent, angry look on her face as she keeps marching back into the Main Hall, that is, straight towards me.

It makes me stop midstep. My mind scrambles to make a decision — slink back into the party or try to dart into the Elevator without her noticing me.

I start moving for the Elevator, but it’s at that exact moment that she looks up and our eyes meet.

Fuck. What do I do?

I don’t stop walking. I tip my head in a greeting and stay on my trajectory, hoping this will be it for tonight.

But the next thing I know, she’s materializing right in front of me, making me stop midstep, all my muscles tensing up.

“What?” she asks with her eyebrows raised. Her voice is strangely flat, especially considering how raw she looks. “Don’t tell me Grimm Academy doesn’t know how to throw parties.”

I fail to stop myself from giving her a smile, however joyless. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I glance around the Hall. “Or maybe all this splendor’s making me feel like a fish out of water.”

For a second, she just keeps staring at me with this funny look in her narrowing eyes.

Then she tilts her head so she’s looking up at me from an angle that makes my heart beat faster. “I’d hate to think we’re being bad hosts,” she says, dropping her voice a little.

It all makes me frown, my eyes darting to her hand.

No ring on her finger. Did she just break up with him?

No, don’t go there, I urge myself.

She raises her eyebrows at me.

I clear my throat. “Don’t worry about it,” I finally say, “you’re all being extremely hospitable. But it is getting late. Good night, Romanov,” I add with another joyless smile and I turn to walk away.

I sense her follow me. I don’t stop walking, I just shoot her a confused look over my shoulder.

Just as I reach the Elevator, she comes to block my way, making my eyebrows pull down.

It’s with narrowed eyes and in a low but flat voice that she asks, “How does it work? With you and the women you sleep with?”

For a second, I stay speechless, thinking I must’ve heard her wrong. Then, when she just keeps looking at me and I realize I haven’t…

The directness makes me blow a laugh through my nose. “How does it work…” I shake my head in confusion, but then I throw her a smirk, deciding to play dumb to get out of having to answer the question. “Do you really need me to explain how things work between a man and a woman, Romanov?” I ask as I push the button to call for the Elevator.

“Oh fuck off. You know I’m talking about your casual arrangements or whatever you’d call them.”

Run the fuck away, I urge myself. And it’s at that exact moment that the Elevator arrives and the door opens with the now familiar soft ping.

“Sure,” I say as I move to get inside, my heart sinking, “and I’ll tell you all about them… some other time.”

“Why not now?” she asks as she darts into the Elevator and turns to face me, her eyes challenging me.

For a second, I hesitate. Then the Elevator starts closing and I find myself jumping in.

But I immediately turn to face the door so I’m not looking at her when I ask, forcing a flat voice, “Aren’t you tired?” I watch the Elevator close and I push the button for the surface level, my mind buzzing and my eyebrows pulling down.

“No,” I hear her say.

And the Elevator starts moving up, but then she presses something that makes it stop entirely.

I just keep standing there, wondering what the fuck is going on and feeling breathless with a heady kind of excitement. “I’m starting to feel interrogated here,” I say.

And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to look at her right now, but I sense her get closer so I turn to face her. She’s standing right in front of me, looking up at me with those eyes of hers.

“So?” she insists. “How does it work?”

And I don’t know why she’s doing this, but it’s starting to piss me off, that she’s making me talk about these things with her.

So I decide to put an end to it, to scare her off by intentionally misinterpreting the question. I take a step closer, watching her eyebrows shoot up. Then I lean in a little, throwing her a smirk as I drop my voice to say, “Oh it’s pretty simple. It starts with me taking my sweet time, and ends with them begging for more.”

I see her cheeks flush, and that gives me some satisfaction at least, but she doesn’t let it deter her. “Taking your sweet time, you say?” she asks. “But these are one-night stands you’re talking about?”

“Sometimes,” I start as I get even closer, my voice now barely above a whisper, “it’s more of an ongoing situation. Why?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Considering applying for the position?”

“What if I am?” she asks in a voice that’s a little defiant, but at the same time low and silky smooth.

And she moves to brush my arm.

The voice and the anticipation of touch all send a wave of heat all over my body, but I shake my head at her and I grab her wrist in my hand, my eyes darting to the finger where the ring used to be.

“What’s going on?” I demand, making my voice soft but flat. And it takes effort to say a certain word without gritting my teeth, but I still ask, “Did you and your fiance get into a fight?”

At that, she shoots me such a cold look, it makes shivers run down my body. I see her grit her teeth as she breaks her wrist free of my grip. For a second, we just look at each other.

“We broke up and that’s the end of the story,” she says flatly, making my mind go blank.

Then, as quickly as if she didn’t just admit to something major, she rolls her eyes, her lips curling into a smile. “But this ongoing-situation type of thing you’re talking about… I think that’s exactly what I need.”

And she’s never given me a smile like that, so soft and downright hot, and I have to force myself to take a step back and say, in a much flatter voice, “I don’t think it is.”

“Why not?” she asks. And she gets a little closer again.

I grit my teeth, my mind buzzing in search of excuses. “You wouldn’t be able to keep it casual.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands as she gets so close, all I can see are her eyes.

I look deeper into them, my own eyes narrowing as I snap, “It means I know you’d fall for me, Romanov.”

And I see her cheeks flush again. But then she just throws me a deadpan stare before she drawls, “Well, the arrogance is a turn off, so I think I’ll be fine.”

It makes me blow a laugh through my nose.

“And now that that’s settled…” It makes a jolt of electricity shoot through me when I feel her fingers lightly pull at my shirt as she gets on the tips of her toes to whisper in my ear, “Why don’t you take me somewhere?”

The words make me swallow roughly. And her breath strokes my neck and I feel a rush of hunger for more of her touch, a deep, heady hunger. I fail to stop my gaze from flitting down and getting drawn to her cleavage, but then I force myself to snap out of it.

“No, you don’t want that,” I tell her as I pull away, my fox giving resistance.

Almost instantly, she takes a step back, her eyes narrowing at me. “You mean, you don’t want that.”

I frown. “What’re you talking about?”

She motions in the direction of the Main Hall. “I’ve seen the kind of girls eyeing you.”

How am I supposed to answer that? I’m not even registering them because I can’t stop thinking about you? So I just choose to say, “Don’t know what kind they are, but they’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“Then what’s your problem?” she demands with a touch of defiance in her voice. “Didn’t you just admit this was your kind of thing?”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “There’s a difference between having casual sex and being a predator, Romanov.”

She throws daggers at me. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“You’re drunk and you’re vulnerable. You’re only doing this to hurt your fiance.”

“Ex fiance,” she protests, getting all red in the face. “And who are you to talk about my reasons? Am I a fucking child? Or am I an adult capable of making my own decisions?”

The words make my already poor defenses start rapidly crumbling to the ground.

But it’s at the very next moment that she shakes her head. “You know what?” she snaps. And she moves to get the Elevator moving again. “Forget it.”

I grab her wrist before she can do anything. “No, hey,” I rush to say, making her face me again as my heart starts pounding.

“So you’re really single?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice steady.

She looks up, locking eyes with me. “I am.”

Fuck, I think as all my desire for her comes rushing to the surface.

“Alright, then yes,” I rush to whisper before she can change her mind again.

And I can no longer stop myself from moving to kiss her, but she lifts her palm to her face, making me let out a groan.

“There’d be rules,” she says in a low, serious voice.

That makes me laugh, my eyes darting to her lips again. “Of course there would,” I reply, my voice rough with desire.

But she’s already listing them. “No lingering after, no mentioning it to anyone, no spontaneous meetups, and absolutely no kissing.”

“No kissing?” I protest, frowning. “Come on, isn’t that a bit much?”

“Not on the mouth,” she insists. “Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll be taking it,” I lean to whisper in her ear, making her suck in a sharp breath.

The sound she makes and the smell of her make me go crazy. I let go of her wrist only to grab her by the waist and pull her tightly against myself, her hands wrapping around my shoulders.

Walking her backwards and pressing her against the Elevator door, I move to bury my face in her neck.

But then there’s that soft ping again and she’s rushing to break herself free from my grip.

It’s like a cold shower, being spit out into the garden with people buzzing around, her clearing her throat and smoothing her dress out as she takes a step away from me.

It makes me sad and amused all at once. “Jumpier than a rabbit,” I lean to whisper to her as the Elevator disappears behind us. “Who would’ve thought?”

But judging by the look on her face and the way she takes another step back, she’s in no mood for jokes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she announces in a sober voice, now avoiding my eye, “and I’m not coming back until the end of winter break.”

“Tomorrow’s a long time from now,” I protest as I try to get a little closer.

“No, not today,” she almost cuts me off. “Tomorrow, five PM,” she says as she throws me a quick glance. And she moves to walk in the direction of her home here at the Academy. “Meet me at the top of Lilith Tower.”

“At your service, Your Highness,” I reply in a soft, teasing voice, my body flooding with a mix of disappointment and excitement as I watch her disappear to my right.

And as I start walking in the opposite direction, all the way back to camp, with the night around me cold yet fragrant, it finally hits me.

Instead of staying away from her, what I told Ricky our mission was, I’ve just let myself be persuaded into becoming her little fuck toy.

It makes me stop midstep and look over my shoulder, my eyes drawn to the silhouette of the Lilith Tower behind my back. For one long moment, I just look at it. Then I decide.

First thing tomorrow, I’ll ask her brother for her number and I’ll text her to let her know I won’t be coming after all. That’s what’s best, right? For everyone involved.

Chapter 17 - Nyx

Next morning, I find myself standing in front of my closet, wondering what I came there to do. Ah yes, I think as my gaze flits to my reflection in the door mirror. I’m still in the boxers and T-shirt in which I sleep, and I’m supposed to be getting down for breakfast.

But my mind refuses to pay any attention to the clothes hanging in my closet. Last night, I had this dream that startled me from sleep, the first to do it in ages. It was visceral and terrifying, for some reason featuring lots of skulls and horses. And that’s all I remember, but the terror I felt when I was having it keeps clinging to me, making my mind keep rushing to it.

When it’s not doing that, It keeps dragging me back into the Elevator, into the moment he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to his body. It makes my breath catch and my ears burn, just recalling it, the way it felt to have him so close — all rock-hard and like a fucking furnace — and it’s threatening to keep me stuck in a loop of trying to relive it in as much detail as possible.

A part of me can’t believe it, none of it. Not the part with me suggesting it and definitely not the part with him saying yes. I was drunk and I was a little out of it and there he was, His Hotness himself, with the eyes threatening to turn me into a fucking puddle beneath his feet. My heart pounds in my chest and my body floods with desire when an image pops into my head, of him moving to get closer with an intense look on his face, saying, “Tomorrow’s a long time from now.”

And it is and it’s not. It’s today, at five PM, which is only hours away. But at the same time, I don’t know how I’ll be able to survive until then.

As if to add to my torture, my eyes dart back to my reflection. I drag them down my chest, grimacing as I do. Slowly, I take the hem of my shirt and I lift it up, trying to picture his reaction when he sees me naked.

Cringing, I shut my eyes and turn my head away. Goddamnit, I think when I open them again and see the plain black bra I’m wearing.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to picture girls he sleeps with in anything other than sexy lingerie. All lace and fishnets and halters.

I do have stuff like that, I think as I glance at my drawers. Mostly presents from Max though, I think, a whirlwind of emotions flooding me as soon as he crosses my mind — the fight we had in the courtyard last night, my sleepless night, all the calls and texts I’ve received from him today.

It made something inside me snap, the way he tried to literally drag me away from Howe. And while we fought last night, I had to force myself to keep looking him in the eye, this painfully lonely hollowness overwhelming my entire being.

Every moment since then has felt as if someone’s just pulled the ground from beneath my feet. Just yesterday, I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with that man. Just yesterday, I was still building my whole life around him.

And that’s exactly why I can’t be thinking about it, at all, I tell myself.

If I do, I fear I’ll fall apart. And with the Games and Uncle, there are so many things hanging in the balance.

So I just need to make this as painless for myself as possible by any means necessary, be it eating a whole pack of ice cream in one sitting or getting myself a fuck buddy.

And I shrug it off, returning to my reflection and starting to carefully inspect myself. It was one thing to offer this to His Hotness while the booze was still doing its thing. It’s a whole other thing to be thinking about it in the light of day, being able to see, painfully clearly, all the reasons I might end up not finding him there after all. My skin, so pale compared to the gloriously tanned skin of those shifter girls. My figure, which couldn’t possibly be any further from curvy. And then there are the tits. The lack of them, that is, I think with a knot in my stomach. And it’s only accentuated by the fit of my bra, the way it puffs out a little in the middle.

I let out a frustrated groan, slamming my face into my palms. This is crazy. I can’t be doing this. I have to cancel.

Then it pops into my head and I lower my hands, rushing to open the top drawer. There’s that one piece that’s at least got some lace on it, doesn’t make me look so flat, and wasn’t a gift from Max.

Bingo, I think as I pull it out of the mess that is my bra collection. I look at it for a second, frowning and feeling stupid at the very thought of him seeing me in it, but the alternative seems to be worse. So I take my clothes off and I put it on, along with a matching pair of panties.

This is all the energy I’ll allow myself to waste on this, I say in a scolding internal voice. And I proceed to putting on one of my usual outfits, a baggy sweater and a pair of tights.

And just as I’m about to leave for the cafeteria, there’s a soft knock on my door. I stop midstep, my mind rushing to picturing him outside the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I think as I struggle to get it together. He’s found out what room I’m in and he’s come to tell me he won’t be coming after all.

Fine, I decide as I blow out a breath and come to open the door. Utter and total humiliation, here I come. But it’s for the better, yeah, definitely for the better.

But when I swing the door open, it’s not him. It’s just one of Mother’s couriers. Wilhelm, I believe. I breathe a sigh of relief and offer him a smile.

He does a curt little bow, gives me my package and disappears.

As I close the door behind him, squinting at the little envelope attached to yet another luxurious ribbon, my initial relief turns into concern.

I’m scheduled to arrive later this afternoon. What reason would she have to send me stuff, today of all days?

The possibility hits me like a hammer across the head. My shoulders slumping and my throat closing, I go sit on my bed and I practically rip the note out of the little envelope.

“What is this I hear of yours and Max’s engagement?” she jumps straight to the point, the handwriting angrier than I’ve seen it in a long, long time. “It’s so absurd, I have to come to the conclusion it never happened.” I can almost imagine her let out that passive aggressive little laugh of hers. “Isn’t that right, my dear? Whatever little spat you and your fiance the prince had, I’m sure you’ll patch things up even before I see you at tonight’s dinner.”

I lower the hand with the note onto my thigh, fixing my eyes ahead. Fucking hell. Why did I ever think she’d simply make her peace with it? Have I learned nothing, I snarl at myself through gritted teeth.

But there’s a PS of course. There’s always a PS, I think as I lift the note to my eyes again.

“P.S. I’m worried about Ludwig. I didn’t expect much from him, but this? Losing a position no one has ever lost before? You should go visit him and see if there’s anything that can be done.”

It all makes me frown and go back to the bit where she talks about ‘losing a position no one has ever lost before’. Has Uncle been taken off the Guardian duty?

And it’s far from something I want to be doing right now, but it actually comes as a small mercy, me having to go investigate this. At least, that way, I can postpone thinking about Mother pushing me into getting back with Max. And I can take it as a way to distract myself from thinking about the dreaded today-at-five-PM.

***

When the door to Uncle’s office opens, it’s not him I find standing on the other side. It’s Nikolay, still looking a bit groggy from sleep. The moment he realizes it’s me, he throws me a warm smile, at the same time breathing a sigh of relief. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“It’s a bit early for you, isn’t it?” I ask as I push past him. I’m still angry, and that can’t be made to disappear just because of another family emergency.

“Well, Uncle’s not well,” I hear him say just as I come to a stop before said Uncle’s desk and spot him splayed on the armchair beneath the window.

It makes me frown, the paleness of his skin. “Uncle,” I start, beginning to feel a little concerned.

When he doesn’t speak, I march over to him and I bend over, trying to catch his eye. When I do, for a second, he just stares at me vacantly. “They took it from me,” he says in a voice that’s barely above a whisper.

“They took what?” I demand, wanting to confirm what Mother told me.

“They fired him,” I hear Nikolay cut in and I stand straight, turning to look at him. He has his hands in his pockets and a serious look on his face. “They met today, decided he’s no longer fit to be Guardian, and they moved the Box to the dungeon, for the time being, at least.”

I frown. “Why would they do that?”

“It sure didn’t help when you reported him being in possession of the murdered professor’s journal,” he snaps.

And that’s not what I meant, but it rubs me the wrong way, what he said. “Yeah, and they’re reacting to that now,” I snap back, “mere months later.”

He lets out a scoff, but the anger quickly subsides. As fickle as usual, my brother darling, I think to myself.

He takes a step closer, turning his eyes onto Uncle. “It’s because of how he behaved last night. They’re suspecting him to be, you know…” As he meets my eye, he makes a gesture imitating a crazy person.

I wave my hand in dismissal. “I meant, why put the Box in the dungeon?”

“Allegedly,” he says, “whenever they’re replacing a Guardian like this, with no notice, they put it there to keep it from being tampered with. It’s when it’s in between Guardians that it’s at its most fragile.”

“I see,” I reply in a voice barely above a whisper. Sounds more serious than I thought it would. But then it occurs to me and my eyes dart back to my brother, fixing themselves there, squinting. “How do you know all this?”

He hesitates for a second. But then he takes a deep breath and says, “Max. He told me just before you, you know…”

“Yeah.”

“I tried texting him this morning, but…”

Now, that makes me take in a sharp breath. I give a couple of quick nods and I move for the door, rushing to get out of this office, out of this conversation and out of this situation in general.

“Wait,” Nikolay calls after me.

I stop, but only once I’m out the door. He follows me and closes it behind him. “Aren’t you going to do something?” he asks as he motions back at the office, at Uncle, that is.

“I don’t think I should,” I say, despite the image of Mother popping into my head. My brother frowns. “I’m sorry, Nikolay, but it sounds like they did the right thing by taking the Box from him. He’s not stable.”

“Is this about Max?” he demands, almost cutting me off. “You think I’m mad at you?”

It renders me speechless, the absurdity of everything he just said. “How,” I start, struggling not to lose my cool, “but how did you manage to make this about yourself?”

He just blinks at me, all confused all of a sudden. “Because, you know, we had our little spat yesterday,” he starts to explain, earnestly, and it makes my blood begin to boil, but I let him keep going. “And you weren’t pleased when we parted and neither was I, so I just thought it would be good to tell you, you know, that I support you in this. We’re powerful as is, we don’t need Max, right?”

It takes me a second to calm down enough to be able to form coherent sentences. Once I do, I take a step closer to my brother and I say, “First of all, it wasn’t a fucking spat, it was an insulting, incredibly selfish request from you and that’s not the way to treat me.”

I pause to take a breath, watching my brother’s eyebrows pulling down. “Second, I didn’t just break up with Max. I think I need a little time away from you as well.”

Now, that leaves him speechless. But I don’t wait for the effect to wear off. I’m so sick and tired of all this bullshit and I finally feel like I could put an end to it.

So I turn on my heel and I walk away, heading straight back to my room to pack, take a bath and get out of this stupid lacy underwear. Today at five PM, if he doesn’t like how I look in my regular bra, he can just go fuck himself. He won’t be getting any assistance from me.

***

I’m worried that we’ll be seen and I don’t want to be right on time, the very thought making me feel pathetic, so it’s at five o’clock that I finally leave my bedroom dressed in the plainest clothes I own. On legs that at least feel shaky, I start making my way to the top of the Tower, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

I’ve just broken up an engagement, I haven’t had sex with anyone other than Max in three long years, and, well, I couldn’t exactly be called a pin-up girl. And I won’t even get into my little problem with finishing.

So, in a minute or so, when I find myself alone with him, the guy everyone’s drooling over, the guy who’s a real-life player, how am I supposed to think I won’t be making a fool out of myself?

I’m so out of my depth here.

I keep climbing, but all of a sudden, my mind is flooding with images of him in some imaginary locker room with the boys, laughing at my expense.

The anxiety threatens to make me stop midstep, turn on my heel and leave.

It’s fine, I tell myself, he probably won’t even be there.

But as soon as I enter the rookery, I smell him and I stop midstep.

It’s dark and I can’t see him yet, but I can definitely smell him.

Throwing one last glance at the empty staircase behind me, I gently close the door. And I take a few steps inside, my eyes darting left right, when I sense a presence behind my back and all my muscles tense up.

For a second, I just keep standing there.

Then I roll my eyes, letting out a soft scoff. “You know I can smell you?”

But when I turn around to face him, there’s no one there.

I frown, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

Then I sense him behind me again and I freeze, my heart starting to pound with a strange thrill.

I hear two soft footsteps. Still, I don’t move, my mind running around in circles.

Until it stops, abruptly.

First I feel the breath on my neck, then the light brush of fingers against my waist, then the heat radiating off him. My spine arches and my body tingles in anticipation, the weight of it growing with every passing second.

Then there are fingertips tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, but they only add to the torture, turning my breathing ragged as they brush down my neck before returning to my waist.

I swallow roughly and I move to turn around, needing more, but that only makes the arms wrap around my waist, keeping me fixed in place. Then they pull me closer, pressing my back against a rock-hard chest and my ass against an equally rock-hard dick. It makes me bite my lip, my heart skipping a beat and my neck arching, offering itself up, shamelessly and eagerly. And the next thing I know, there’s a mouth abusing the sweet spot on it, my breath hitching and my eyes closing as pleasure ripples through my body.

To turn around, I have to break myself free of the arms holding me around the waist. But when I do, I find him standing so close, looking down at me with intense, hooded eyes, one corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

I just stare at him, anything I could say sounding so stupid in my head.

“Well hello,” he whispers, simply, in that hot, hot fucking voice of his, and he moves to pull me closer to him.

The fucking player, I think as I break myself free, my eyes narrowing as I see his eyebrows shoot up.

It took him all of two minutes to get me this worked up?

“Hi,” I say, in the most unaffected voice I can muster, deciding he won’t be right about the kind of game we’re playing here. Folding my arms, I motion at his shirt. “Why don’t you lose that?”

It gives me so much pleasure, when I see the little flash of surprise in his eyes.

For a second, we just stare at each other.

Then his lips curl into a smile and he does as he’s told, crossing those big arms across his chest to grab the hem. It makes my breath hitch, when he pulls it over his head and my eyes drag down the lines of his muscles all the way to the V disappearing under the waistline of his jeans.

Fuck.

He throws the shirt on the floor and locks eyes with me. I don’t look away, I won’t look away, no matter how hard it is to keep my breathing even.

Instead, I grab him by the jeans and I pull him closer. He just looks at me for a second, his nostrils flaring and his lips parting.

And just as I think he’s going to try to kiss me, he starts walking me backwards, getting my sweater off with rushed movements.

Eagerly, I raise my hands to help him. The sweater off, he throws it on the floor and slows down, pressing me against the table and locking eyes with me.

For a second, I feel self-conscious about myself. But he doesn’t let me linger on it. He pulls me to him, tightly, my arms raising to rest on his broad, hard shoulders. One corner of his mouth curling into a smile and his eyes boring deeper into mine, he lowers his head and I feel his mouth on my neck again, my breathing turning ragged as he slowly yet forcefully kisses, bites and sucks it, making his way from my ear all the way to my shoulder.

I lose myself, my mind going blank and the world around me falling away, leaving only the body pressed against mine, the mouth that’s now traveling down my chest and my stomach, and the hands that keep getting busier, stroking my thighs and squeezing my ass.

And before I know it, he’s got my tights and my panties off, and his head between my legs. I suck in a sharp breath, when I feel his mouth on me, my hands flying to grab fistfuls of his hair as the kiss turns into fervent licking and sucking.

And just as the pleasure rises to a point that becomes unbearable, and I almost let out a moan, I hear a thud somewhere in the distance.

And I freeze and I stiffen, my eyes flying open and darting left right.

The very next second, he’s standing in front of me, leaning to whisper, “It was nothing. Relax.”

And his voice is so low and rough and hot, all I can do is stare at him for a second and then start work on unzipping his pants.

I see a flash of hunger flick through his eyes and he rushes to help me, pushing his jeans down to reveal a dick so hard, it’s shooting upwards.

I lick my lips, feeling myself get even more wet, and he grabs me to put my legs around him, but I push him away a little.

“No,” I say, making his eyebrows pull down a little. And I slide down the table and back onto the floor. It’d feel too intimate, having his face all up in mine like that.

So I turn around.

Chapter 18 - Dahrian

I’m just about to get inside her, my breathing ragged and my mind clouded with desire, when she stops me, making my eyebrows pull down as I watch her slide down the table and turn around. And now, there’s the curve of her back and the press of her ass against my dick to drive me crazy, but my frown doesn’t disappear until she reaches back to take me in her hand.

It makes me suck in a sharp breath, my dick throbbing in her delicate little fingers as I let her guide it where she wants me.

And as she slides me inside that hot little pussy of hers, a wave of pleasure comes crashing down on me and I grab her by the waist, gritting my teeth so as not to curse out loud. I push myself even deeper inside, walking her a step forward and making her grab onto the table before her for balance.

It starts creaking, the table, when I start thrusting. But it’s her arching neck, her ragged breathing and the way she’s starting to rock her body back and forth that I’m focused on, my hands roaming up and down her back and her ass.

It makes me start losing it, when I up the tempo a little bit and she takes in a sharp breath, her right hand flying to the edge of the table and gripping it tighter.

Overwhelmed with desire, I grab her by the neck and I pull her up a little, taking a bite out of the flesh on her shoulder blade. And as I keep kissing, her spine arches and she starts bobbing up and down, her pussy clenching around my throbbing dick.

And all of a sudden, I can’t take it any more. I stop holding back, I push her head down again and I grab onto her shoulders, squeezing and dragging my hands up and down her back as I slam myself inside her.

And just as I hear her breathing become more ragged than ever and her pussy tightens impossibly around me…

It all stops, abruptly, and I find myself being pushed out of her as she turns around again.

The next thing I know, she’s kissing me on the neck and taking me in her hand. I grab her by the waist, and it feels so good, the way she starts working me with her fingers, but I need to get back inside her, so I try to pry her hand away.

She doesn’t let me, she just increases both the speed and the pressure, her kisses turning into bites on my neck. The next thing I know, I’m pulling her closer to myself and burying my face in her neck, flooding with pleasure as I’m shot out of my body and into the sky. And for a second, I can’t think or do anything, floating on a boundless sea of quiet as I remain standing there, my forehead on her cheek.

When I come to, I’m eager to keep going. And I squeeze her tighter and I move to slide my hand between her thighs, but she just slaps it away.

“Will you turn around?” she asks as she breaks free of my grip, pulls away a little and looks up at me with her hands across her chest.

My mind blank, I don’t say anything, I just do as she says. And I pull my pants up and I keep standing there, listening to her get dressed as my eyebrows pull down.

What the…

And just as she moves to walk past me, I snap out of it and I grab her by the wrist. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I demand with a confused laugh, my voice still unsteady.

She turns to look at me, but she just shrugs and says, “We’re done.”

It makes me blow a laugh through my nose. “You’re not,” I protest.

“And how would you know?” she snaps a little. Then she turns on her heel and starts walking out of the room, throwing me a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll text you when I’m back, okay?”

Say something, I urge myself.

But nothing comes to mind. I just watch her walk through the door and close it behind her, too dumbfounded to do anything else but stand there like an idiot.

***

It’s with unseeing eyes, my hands in my pockets, and a head full of images, smells and sounds that I leave Lilith Tower and make my way down the slope to the camp, the cold winter day slowly turning into night all around me. I let the echoes keep washing over me, the touch of her skin, the curve of her back, the tone of her voice when she told me to lose my shirt.

But when I think of the way she finished me off and ran away, I can’t help but start wondering if she even liked it.

It all makes my mind start swarming, trying to recall things in detail and struggling with the possibility of having misinterpreted a lot of her signals. But in the background of it all, there’s something else. There’s my fox, watching from the shadows, obviously having something to say, but for whatever reason not wanting to say it.

I slow to a stop, fixing my eyes on the camp before me. It’s dusk and my pack is lighting the fires, their glow soft and muted in the waning light of day. Out there, on the third solitary little dock, I see Ricky huddled by his own fire. In a moment, I’ll be climbing those steps, I think to myself, and then I’ll have others to think about, to tend to.

So I keep walking, I take a deep breath to brace myself for his potential moodiness and I ask, “What is it?”

His ears prick up, but he doesn’t say anything. He just squints at me.

“Out with it,” I demand as I climb the plateau and start walking in Ricky’s direction, saying hi to people as I go.

My fox stays silent for a second. To my surprise, when it comes, the reply is short and dead serious. This should be the last time you did this.

It makes me frown. “This?” I ask as I keep walking down the plateau. Still frowning, I let out a little laugh. “You mean my little arrangement with, how do you say, ‘the girl’?”

Yes.

“Really?” I drawl. “Yet a minute ago, this was all you wanted, being able to take a good ol’ lungful of her.”

I’m changing my mind, he snaps.

“Who’s asking you?” I snap back just as I turn to walk down Ricky’s little dock.

“Hi stranger,” I call out to my friend, and in doing so cut my fox off.

Ricky cranes his neck to greet me from one of the two chairs around a small wooden table.

I flash him the widest grin, feeling more energized than I’ve been in a very long time.

And I throw myself in the chair next to him, only then seeing the mood he’s in. Absent, frustrated, even a little angry.

“Ricky, my man,” I say as I clap him on the back, “why the long face?”

He shakes his head and drawls in a mocking voice, “Oh, I’m just the biggest dumbass in the whole wide world.”

“Just that? Come on, out with it.”

He shoots me an assessing look, presses his lips tight and says, “Fine.” He leans a little forward and turns a little to the side so he can face me. “I got this really cool thing from one of the professors, yeah?”

I nod, nudging him to go on.

“And I was failing to figure out how it works, and I told myself to wait until we got back from winter break, but then I gave in and took another shot anyway.”

“And?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. “I destroyed the blasted thing.”

“Damn,” I say with my eyebrows raised. “Sorry, mate.” I give him a smile from ear to ear as I shove at his shoulder. “But knowing you, there’ll be other interesting things.”

“I know, I know,” he rushes to say, still a little grumpily, but much less so. “But this one was special. And my toothbrush went missing and now,” he grumbles as he throws his hands up, “now I have to go pack, which is my least favorite activity in the world.” He turns to lock eyes with me, giving me a weak smile. “But hey, that’s life, right? All suffering, barely any reward.”

I just look at him for a second, starting to feel concern for my friend. Then I choose to click my tongue and say in a teasing voice, “Be careful, that might be a little too much optimism to bear all at once.”

“You’re right,” he agrees with a sigh and a sharp couple of nods. “I’ll stop. Sorry, Boss. I know you have much bigger things on your mind.” And he throws me a half smile.

That makes me frown. I lean a little forward and I make him really look at me, my own eyes narrowing. “Hey, what’s really going on?”

He stays silent for a second. “I guess I’m thinking of not coming back here, you know, after winter break.”

The look he throws me once he says that is apologetic. Of course it is, I think to myself. He knows what his leaving would mean — one less player for the team. What if, in the end, it came down to just one? It’s my duty not to let him give up just yet.

“You just need a little more time to get used to things,” I tell him.

“It’s pointless and harmful,” he insists with a certain sad spark in his eyes. “I spend my days alone in the Library, which is exactly the kind of thing I was trying to move away from.” He locks eyes with me, looking at me as if he really wants help. “I thought I’d do all this differently, Dahrian. You know, coming here, the Games and everything. I thought I’d meet lots of new people, broaden my horizons and the like.”

I shake my head as I pat him on the back. “You’re always broadening your horizons, Ricky. That’s not what’s missing, especially when you look at your, you know, years of isolation. I think it’s meeting new people you should be focusing on.”

He looks away for a second, thinking. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Just say the word and I’ll start introducing you.”

He turns to look at me again, but this time, it’s with an upbeat expression on his face. “What about your buddy, Nikolay? He seems like a nice enough guy. Interesting as well.”

I let out a laugh. This is so like Ricky, I think to myself. “I think what strikes you as interesting is his lineage, not his character,” I say in a teasing voice. “But sure, I can introduce you two if you want.”

“Right after winter break,” he replies with an actual smile. Then he lets out a laugh. “I don’t think I could bear it today.”

“The only thing today is good for is lazing around,” I say as I lean back and let my eyes sweep over the lake.

I’ll text you when I get back, her words echo in my head, making me take in a lungful of air to fight off the effect of the thrill.

All I got today was ragged breathing. Not a single little moan. And it sure as hell wasn’t for the lack of trying. But she did like it, I tell myself as I recall the way she squirmed under my tongue and the way she started biting me near the end. Then again, women don’t generally run away from me like that.

If only she didn’t turn around, I’d have the look in her eyes telling me the truth, I bitch to myself, but it’s with a smile tugging at my lips. After all, she did say she’d text me. Worst case scenario, I’m getting myself a rematch.

“You’re looking extra perky,” Ricky snaps me out of it. I turn to find him squinting at me.

I let out a rough laugh, running my hand through my hair. “I guess I’m getting my old self back.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s a load off,” he says and gives me a nervous chuckle. “At one point last night, you disappeared and I thought that maybe, you know… I’d failed my mission.”

Blood rushes to my skin. Fuck. “Oh, that,” I blurt out. I shake my head vigorously. “No, no, you hadn’t. Actually,” I find myself saying, “I think I’m over it.”

He frowns. “You are?”

“Yeah,” I say with a wave of my hand, determined to cut this conversation short, “so feel free to forget about what I asked you.”

“Well, that was fast,” he comments.

I just give him a smile, not wanting to tell any more lies.

“But did you hear?” Ricky insists as he leans a little closer, dropping his voice. “Everyone’s saying they’ve broken up.”

And now he’s looking at me suspiciously again.

Fucking hell, I curse myself as my mind scrambles for a way out. “Yeah, I did hear. But you know what?” I shake my head. “Romanov, she’s a terrific girl, but she’s really not my type. I think it was the adrenaline from the fights that was messing with my brain,” I say with as much determination as I can muster.

My friend just looks at me for a second. “Gotcha,” he finally concludes, making me breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, in my opinion, you’ve dodged a bullet there. As a match for someone who doesn’t do serious, she seems a little too complicated.”

Now, that makes me want to pick his brain, make him talk about his impressions. But I bite my tongue. “Look at you,” I choose to say, teasingly, “with the player talk.”

“Exactly,” he replies, quickly turning serious. “Right now, you have the honor of talking to Eryndor, the biggest player the world has ever seen.” It makes me smile and shake my head, but he just keeps going. “Need any advice? I can tell you what makes the ladies tick, how to make them love you, hate you and everything in between.”

I blow a laugh through my nose. “Stop it, you’re scaring me.”

“Why?” he asks, feigning confusion. “I know how to read people, it’s actually one of my strongest suits. For example,” he says with a somber nod, “I can tell you have a best friend you’re very jealous of.” He pauses for a second. “Because of him being the biggest player the world has ever seen.”

Now, that gets us both laughing.

But it’s at the very next moment that we both throw looks over our shoulders, hearing heavy footfalls on the dock behind us.

It’s O’Malley Senior, approaching us with a serious look on his face.

I frown. Before he even reaches us, I demand, “What’s going on?”

He walks around our chairs and comes into a crouch before us. “The dungeon they moved the Box to last night…”

“Spit it out.”

He hesitates for a second. “They just found traces of someone having broken in and tried to tamper with it.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Ricky and I exchange a glance. “O’Malley,” I say as I turn back to him and see him nod, “I want you to schedule a chat for me with the Archon as soon as we get back home.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Go,” I tell him. As he gets up, I remember to add, “And once you’re done, don’t go around spreading panic, got it? I’ll take care of this.”

He gives a somber nod and walks away.

My mind buzzing, I turn to stare at the lake.

I can feel Ricky’s eyes on me. “What do you think’s going to happen?” he asks in a tentative voice. “Will we be allowed back here for the second term?”

“Of course we will,” I rush to say, turning to throw him a grin. “We have to be. Now go pack.” I give him another smile. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

Of course, he doesn’t look too happy, but he nods, slowly gets out of his chair and walks away.

I turn to fix my eyes on the lake before me, its surface turning into a dark, shimmering disk. Yes, I repeat to myself, of course we’ll be allowed back here. We can’t not be, not now.

Not now? I hear my fox ask, a touch of mockery in his voice as he rises from the depths of my consciousness to stare me down. Why not now?

I take a deep breath, saying, “You know why. We have the Games to win and I have my family’s future to take care of.”

As opposed to what, yesterday? he drawls. The day before?

“What, you don’t believe me?” I ask through gritted teeth.

Not with you focused on the girl and the sounds she makes while you fuck.

For a second, the little comment renders me speechless. Then I drawl, “In case you haven’t noticed, this is not my first time focusing on a woman. So what is your problem exactly?”

This is different, he says simply.

My eyes narrow. “No, it’s not. You’re making it different.”

He lets out a rough little scoff. So today, when you two were done fucking, you didn’t find yourself tongue tied?

For a second, I stay silent. “Not saying something right away is not the same thing as being tongue tied.”

There’s a moment of tense silence before he asks, Do you respect me?

“Of course I do,” I rush to say.

Well, he starts, his voice turning angry, maybe respecting me is not the same thing as straight-out lying to me.

Fuck. “Look,” I try to appease him, determination in my voice, “this is nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just a little obsession that I need to get out of my system.” I let out a scoff. “So how can it be a bad thing, that I’m given the chance to do exactly that?”

Seconds pass as I wait for an answer.

When it finally comes, it’s strangely pensive. You can’t have it both ways, you do understand that, boy?

I blow out a frustrated laugh. “What in the name of Lycan are you on about?”

I guess I’ll have to let you figure it out on your own.

And with that, he slinks back into the shadows.

“Oh the fucking drama,” I drawl, rolling my eyes.

I don’t care, I decide as I go back to staring at the lake. I’m about to spend a whole month with my brothers and when I come back, which I will…

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and looking over the water with unseeing eyes.

When I come back, I have a little queen of indifference to hunt down and take back into that tower.

And I guess I might need a little more time than I thought, because there’s something there that I need to sniff out…

But once I do, I won’t just be making her come. I’ll be making her call my fucking name as she does.

Chapter 19 - Nyx

It’s January 21st and in around thirty minutes, I think as I nervously glance out the car window, I’ll officially be back at the Academy. Outside, the trees are whizzing past us and I can almost imagine the sound of clumps of snow falling off the branches, but here, inside, the silence is only broken by my driver’s cursing under his breath whenever he sees a squirrel darting across the road.

I’ve made it so I’m not driving with Nikolay, simply because I wanted to be alone. And I could be enjoying them, these last moments of privacy before I’m reunited with both him and our cousin for the rest of the year.

But now that the day has finally come, I can only think about one thing. I pull out my phone, for the hundredth time today. And there’s his number in my contact list, back from when my brother first sent it to me. ‘Nikolay’s Buddy’, it says.

But now Nikolay’s Fiain Academy buddy is my fuck buddy. And the last time I saw him…

For a second, I find myself flooded with images of him shirtless, looking at me like that. It makes my breath catch and my mind scramble to relive it all, from the moment I smelled him to the moment he slid his hand between my thighs, thinking we’re not done.

It took me by surprise, that I couldn’t register him using any ‘moves’ on me. I don’t even know what that would mean, but you expect that kind of guy to have them and you expect for them to be used on you. This was more like… breathing out as things happen at just the right time, each more delicious than the last.

Holy shit, there I go again.

I expel a breath and I force myself to look, really look out the window, the car already gliding down the path leading all the way up to the Academy. As I told myself a week ago, it’s one thing to have a fuck buddy. It’s a whole other to spend all your waking hours daydreaming about his hands, his lips, or the way it felt, what he did to me...

But I did tell him I’d text him when I got back, I think to myself, my eyebrows pulling down. When should I do that? As soon as I arrive? Tonight? A couple of days from now, so as not to appear too eager?

I waste the whole half an hour ruminating, only snapping out of it once I hear Wolfgang say, “We’re here, Lady Romanov.”

I look around, seeing we’ve stopped at the end of the path leading from the Dame Gothel statue to the Elevator.

My head snaps back to the driver and I give him a smile, my hand already on the door handle when I say, “Thank you. You can send my stuff straight to my room, I’ll be joining my brother and cousin in the cafeteria.”

“Will do, Miss.”

And I step outside, taking in a lungful of fresh winter air, my eyes scanning the grounds. There are cars parked all around me, other students stepping out of them and saying bye to their families, some of them heading straight for the Elevator, like I am.

Determined to find a way to enjoy the start of second term, I put on a smile and come to stand behind them. The group of girls in front of me keep looking around, waiting for someone. And then that someone runs up to them, a loud squeal piercing my ears when they all spot each other and fall into each other’s arms.

As they start chatting about this and that, I roll my eyes a little, but a smile dances on my lips.

It’s only once the Elevator door rises out of the ground and we all walk in that the last girl to appear takes off her coat, revealing a sweater with a fox head on it.

It makes me frown. Then it makes blood rush to my cheeks. His cheerleaders. I see they’ve started knitting, I think to myself.

It’s a second too late that I tear my eyes away from the sweater. The others keep chatting away, but this particular girl catches me looking. And our eyes meet for a second, and I see her recognize me, but instead of the usual hesitance that that brings out in people, I sense something else.

Scorn?

The thought makes me frown. But it’s at that very moment that the Elevator stops, and the girl looks away and steps out into the buzzing Entrance Hall, continuing her conversation with her friends.

I keep walking, too, straight for the cafeteria as if nothing happened. But there’s still the image of the fox head on the sweater flicking before me.

And all of a sudden, I understand I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself, thinking I should actually text him.

He’s Dahrian Howe, for crying out loud. And sure, we had a deal, but who knows how many other girls he’s been with since we last saw each other? If I went and sent him a message, I’d probably get one of those ‘Who dis?’ in response.

My eyes fixed on the archway into the cafeteria, I have to fight not to let the embarrassment overwhelm me. This is good, I tell myself. This is easier.

And besides, he’s not even that hot.

***

“Anyone want these fries?” Nikolay asks as he puts his phone down and takes his headphones off. There are faint video game sounds coming from them. His eyes are darting from me to Hilde, both busy wolfing down our burgers.

“I wouldn’t mind a few,” Hilde drawls with her mouth full, but Nikolay’s eyes stay on me.

I swallow the last of my food and lick my fingers. “No, thanks,” I say.

“You sure?” he insists. “I remember you saying you like how crispy they are.”

It almost makes me crack a smile. Ever since I told him off, that time in front of Uncle’s office, he’s been super attentive. And I haven’t even seen him with Max, not even once. I guess he really is trying to be supportive.

“Just eat them, dumbass. I know you want to,” I say in a warm voice.

He throws me a grin and digs in, putting his headphones back on. “Bloody fang of the God of Stealth, Kurt,” he curses as he grabs his phone again, “didn’t I say go left. Left, not right!”

I shake my head, my lips curling into a smile.

But it’s at that exact moment that my ears prick up, again registering someone saying my name. I take a deep breath and for a second, I try to fight the urge.

I fail. Taking my phone in my hand and starting to scroll so as not to seem like I’m eavesdropping, I proceed to eavesdrop. Using my vampiric hearing, I zero in on the source of the sound. All the way on the other side of the hall. A girl saying, “And I don’t know how I’m only hearing about this now, but did you know how she managed to get an A in Mind Magic?”

For a second, there’s silence. Then there’s a male voice saying, “No way.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks, my breathing turning heavy with anger. It’s at that very moment that I sense someone looking and my eyes dart to my right to find it’s Hilde. She’s staring at me over her book as if she’s dying to say something.

“What?” I demand.

She hesitates for a second, but then she puts her book down and, to my surprise, gets up and comes to sit right next to me. My eyebrows pull down, but I don’t say anything. I wait for her to talk.

“I know you hear them talking,” she leans in to say.

I take a deep breath, determined to snap this in the bud. “It’s none of my business,” I reply and I move to go back to scrolling on my phone.

“It won’t get any better, you know,” my cousin insists.

I turn back to her, snapping, “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

She looks at me as if I’ve just told the biggest lie ever. “I don’t know where the two of you are at,” she says knowingly, “but maybe it’d be time to pull the plug.”

“What do you mean, where the two of us are at? We broke up, Hilde.”

She just looks at me for a second. Then she shakes her head a little, smiling conspiratorially. “Yeah, but not for real, right?”

My frown grows deeper. “Why would I break up with him if not for real?”

“To teach him a lesson about something,” she replies without a moment of hesitation. Then she leans a little closer and practically whispers, “Or, you know, make him want you more.”

And then she winks at me. Winks.

“Hilde,” I mutter, not knowing where to even start, “none of that would be right.”

I see the smile slide off her face and blood rush to it. “Well excuse me,” she drawls, “Your Holiness.”

The reply renders me speechless, but she’s already getting up to go back to her seat. And just as I see her gaze fix on something ahead and she slumps back into the chair, a smell overwhelms my senses and my eyes dart to follow hers.

Dahrian. It’s Dahrian she saw.

My heart stops beating as I watch him walk straight towards us. My mind scrambles to understand what’s going on. Is he coming to ask me why I haven’t texted him? I feel hot blood rush to my face.

And yes, he is that hot, I think to myself.

It’s only when he comes to a stop in front of our table that I see Ricky by his side.

“Hi,” Howe says with a smile, his eyes sweeping over the three of us.

They don’t stop on mine.

With the corner of my eye, I see Nikolay look up, taking his headphones off. “Well, if it isn’t my buddy Howe.”

Howe blows out a little laugh and then says, “Sorry to bother you all.”

I want to say something, but I just give him something between a shake and a nod, my mind hopelessly blank all of a sudden.

“No, no,” I hear Hilde protest in a voice sweeter and gigglier than I’ve ever heard it. “I mean, why would you be bothering us?”

I have to fight not to grit my teeth, especially when I see Howe throw her a wide smile. “I think you’ve all met Ricky,” he says and he looks down at my brother. “I just came to introduce him to you, Nikolay. He can’t seem to stop talking about this maneuver of yours from the Second Game.”

“Yeah,” Ricky jumps in, his eyes lit up all of a sudden, “when you used the blade to gut that beast from head to toe, that was just amazing.”

My brother beams at him, saying with fake modesty, “Nothing that hadn’t been passed down to me.”

“Really?” Ricky asks, taking a step closer and grabbing the backrest of the empty chair next to my brother. “Was it your grandfather Nikolay perchance? I’ve always wondered if he’s the one they named you after.”

My brother lets out a loud, jolly laugh. He throws Hilde and I a look as he points at Ricky. “Listen to him. He’s always wondered.” He turns back to his new admirer and says, motioning for him to sit down, “Well, it’s actually a funny story.”

Ricky gives a couple of vigorous nods as he does what he’s told.

“I guess my work here is done,” I hear Howe say.

I have to force myself to throw a glance at him.

“I guess it is,” Hilde replies in that giggly voice. “But that doesn’t mean you have to leave. We’d love it if you stayed.” And she turns to look at me. “Wouldn’t we, Nyx?”

At that moment, all I want to do is smack her right across the face. “Well…”

But before I manage to come up with a reply, Howe does it for me. “Thanks, but I’ve a date with junk food,” he says, making me turn to look at him with my ears pricked up. His eyes are on Hilde, one hand running through his hair as he lets out a little laugh. “My brothers back home,” he starts.

His brothers, it echoes through my mind.

“If they don’t see me eat healthy, they won’t eat healthy either. Suffice to say,” he continues, his eyes darting to mine, “I haven’t had a taste of anything good in four long, long weeks.” I blush, but then he just looks back at Hilde. “Tragic, I know.”

“So tragic,” she echoes with an actual fit of giggling.

“But you two,” he interrupts as he moves to walk away, only throwing me a fleeting glance, “you enjoy yourselves.”

“Thanks,” I say in a snappy voice.

“Thank you so much,” Hilde rushes to say. “You, too.”

He nods. I see him give Ricky, who’s still immersed in his chat with Nikolay, a light pat on the shoulder as he turns on his heel and walks away. Turning away but keeping one eye on him, I watch him walk to one of the Fiain tables, where his pack has been saving him a seat.

I force myself to shift my focus elsewhere. But that only makes me see Hilde staring at him over the book she seems to have grabbed for that exact purpose. She senses me looking. “What?” she asks as she turns to look at me.

For a second, I just stare at her. “You should wipe the drool off your chin,” I finally say, ice in my voice.

She just shrugs. “So I want to wrap my legs around him. Who doesn’t?”

I hear a ping sound from my phone, but I don’t care.

“Really, Hilde?” I demand, leaning a little closer as I feel my blood boil in my veins. “Thought you’d have better taste than that.”

“Better taste?” she echoes, looking at me like I’m being thick. “The guy’s an f-ing god.”

“Exactly,” I snap. “So shallow, but to make it even worse, predictable.”

For a second, she just looks at me. Then she puts her book down and asks, “Have I done something to you?”

“It’s one thing to think he’s hot,” I insist, having to fight not to raise my voice. “It’s a whole other to turn into a giggling, bumbling disaster whenever he’s around.”

There’s a moment of silence as I watch her nostrils flare. “You know, Nyx,” she finally starts, her voice much colder and much more serious than a second ago, “sometimes you can be a little too harsh.”

She gets up and grabs her book off the table in one quick, angry movement. “It’s not a good look on a woman.”

“And it is on a man?” I snap at her as she walks around the table to get away from me.

I throw daggers at her as she settles into the chair opposite me, making a point of neither replying to me nor throwing me another look.

Fine, I think to myself as I grab my phone. And I pull up an article I bookmarked recently, but I can’t make myself focus. They’re all getting on my nerves, Nikolay having his ego stroked, Hilde playing the self-righteous one, and His Hotness tapping his boot on the floor, making me have to fight not to look his way.

With a sigh, I exit the browser. It’s only then that I see a text popup. I frown. Sender? Nikolay’s Buddy. He has my number? My heart skips a beat, my thumb darting to press the little box.

“I see you’re back,” the text says, finishing with a grinning smiley face.

Quickly, I exit the chat and proceed to staring at the screen. What should I say? My eyes get drawn in his direction, seeing him immersed in a conversation with one of his own.

“I am,” I choose to type. And I hit send, but then I get the urge to add, “I was planning on texting you, it’s just a super busy day.”

Another press of the Send button. And then a moment of staring at the screen, not daring to look in his direction.

Just as I decide not to wait around for a reply, I see the three little dots that mean he’s typing. I hold my breath.

“Of course it is, Princess,” comes the reply.

Princess, it echoes in my head. For a second, I just stare at the message, images of Max, Mother, and the scorched expanse that is my future flitting through my mind.

Then there are the three little dots again. “Sorry about that, Romanov. Wasn’t intentional.”

My lips tug into a smile. Then I frown. Romanov again? “Don’t worry about it, Howe,” I rush to type, the letters failing to convey my tone when I write his last name. “You’re the snowflake, not me.”

“How witty you are,” comes the reply. “Anyway, I’d be happy to book an appointment if need be. Just point me in the right direction.”

My breath hitches when I realize what’s going on. I make myself snap out of it. “Those many servants you apparently think I have, I’ll tell one to reach out and ask if midnight would be too late.”

“She did,” he types back, making my eyebrows pull down. “She was shocked to find she had to go directly to me because, alas, I’ve no servants of my own, but she’s managed to work around this difficulty and now she’s on her way to confirm that I will indeed be free at midnight.”

I have to stifle a laugh. I look away a little so as not to be seen smiling. And what I want to write is, “You’re an idiot.” But what I do write is, “All's well that ends well.”

I press Send and keep looking at the screen, my eyes rounding in horror when I realize what I’ve just sent.

Come on, Nyx, I curse myself, Shakespeare? Really? As if he doesn’t already think you’re lame.

With the corner of my eye, I catch him checking the message, putting his phone down and going back to the conversation at the table.

I guess what’s done is done. Now I only need to live with it for the next… I throw a glance at my watch and I take a deep breath to try to fight off the desperation. Ten fucking hours. Why did I suggest midnight?

But even as I bitch to myself, there’s a smile persistently tugging at the corners of my lips.

***

I spend the rest of the afternoon in class, absent but pleasantly so. And once the last bell of the day rings, at least for me, I grab my bag, dart out of C13 and head straight for the Library. As I go, I think of all the books I have access to again. Back home, at the Winter Palace at least, Father’s death also meant the neglect of the book collection. Mother’s pawned off most of it, and now there’s nothing of use there, at least when you’re researching a certain mysterious Vasilisa Romanov.

So it’s with a smile on my face that I enter the hall before the Library, thinking how, despite all my expectations, this is turning out to be a really good day.

Of course, it’s then that I spot him. Max, walking out of the Library with one of his sycophants at his tail. And they almost make me try to hide, the awkwardness and the mixed feelings at seeing him appear like that.

But he’s already spotted me and is walking straight in my direction with this indecipherable look in his eyes.

For a second, I feel myself starting to freeze.

Then I throw a quick nod in his direction and run into the Library.

Holy hell, I think to myself as soon as I find myself on the other side of the door with no signs of him trying to follow me. I breathe a sigh of relief and go straight for my favorite table, the one all the way to the left of the glass wall overlooking the cave.

It’s only then that I realize I haven’t picked up any of the books I need. But just as I move to get up, a ping sounds from my phone.

Quickly, I grab it and I switch it to Mute, throwing a glance around the room in case anyone’s shooting me a nasty look.

But my eyes dart straight back to the screen. There’s a popup there saying I have a text from Mother.

Just what I need right now, I think as the knot of anxiety tucked deep inside my gut rises to the surface. Taking a deep breath, I pull up the chat and I read:

“Do you think she’ll ever want to talk to me again?”

I frown.

Then it hits me. She’s sent it to the wrong number. And she’s about to send another one, at least judging by the three little dots.

I breathe a sigh of relief, starting to type a message of my own, to let her know.

But she beats me to it. “This is what Max just asked me. Is that how it is, Anastasya? We can no longer be bothered to even greet the prince himself?”

It makes me grit my teeth, as soon as I realize what’s happened. “Not entirely true, Mother,” I rush to type, “I did nod.”

I press Send and then wait for two long minutes, staring at the screen, thinking about him going running to a mother. Not his mother. My mother. But a mother nevertheless.

“Then all is right with the world,” Mother’s reply finally arrives, the sarcasm in it successfully coming through. “Except, wait, it isn’t. I want you to go to his quarters right now, and apologize.”

What the… And I can tell by the time it’s taking her to reply that she’s using one of her servants to text while she’s doing three other things in the background. So this is what I type back, “If you want to make requests like that, I suggest you give me a call.”

For a while, I just wait for the reply, fuming. Then, when it doesn’t arrive, I realize she’s giving me the silent treatment, and a knot twists in my stomach.

My teeth gritted, I let out a deep breath and I type, “I apologize, Mother.”

Coming quicker than the ones before, the reply reads, “Apology accepted, dear. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

For a second, I just stare at the screen, my mind scrambling for a way out of it all. “Look,” I finally start typing, holding mental fingers crossed, “I did nod, so it would just come off weak if I went there and apologized right now. I’ll make sure to say a proper hello the next time I see him.”

It takes her a moment, but what she writes back is, “Good girl.”

That gives me mixed feelings, but I move to put my phone away, thinking the conversation is over.

Then another text arrives, making me let out a sigh even before I check it. “Anastasya,” it reads, “we were gracious enough to give you some time to think about things. We just ask you don’t confuse it for license to get the family even deeper into trouble.”

The family, or the royal we, I think to myself, bitterly. But I just write, “Yes, Mother.”

“PS,” she adds, making me frown in expectation of another favor, “please make sure Nikolay is taken off the buddy duty. We don’t want him mixing with the wrong crowd, especially after everything that happened with Uncle.”

Murder, I want to yell at her. There’s been a fucking murder. But it seems it’ll just be forgotten.

Expelling an angry breath, I put my phone away and I sink deeper into my chair. Gracious enough to give me some time to think, those are the words that echo through my head.

And they make me lean my head on the backrest and look out the window, reliving that moment on New Year’s Eve, during winter break, when I was rushing down the stairs and into the dining hall only to spot him standing there in the foyer, staring at me as one of the servants was taking his coat.

That was the night his incessant texting finally stopped. He brought me flowers and a diamond bracelet that I didn’t accept, and we had dinner together, all of us, mostly in tense silence, Max trying to strike a conversation with me, and Mother acting as if she was pitying him and accusing me the entire time.

“Poor Max,” she told me after dinner. “For you to be treating him so unfairly and so harshly, when all he’s ever done was indulge you.”

And it took all I got, but I stood my ground.

“Fine,” she eventually told me, acting as if I needed her permission, “you’ll be officially broken up for now.”

The rest I’m paraphrasing, but it goes roughly like this.

I’ll have a couple of weeks to think about it all and come to the conclusion that this whim of mine is only hurting the family.

I won’t be using Blood Magic in the Games anymore.

And for the time being, to help the family keep some semblance of power, I’ll be taking on the position of Student Leader.

It pains me, just thinking about it all. But how could I have said no?

I mean, it’s so clear she’s right, especially when it comes to the stakes for our family. The land is in disarray. The King is putting pressure on the princes to get rid of the excess. Even the most powerful families are under a microscope right now.

And then, to complicate things even more, just after Uncle lost the position of the Guardian of the Obscura and decided to retire — mid-year at that — I go off and break up with Max…

The timing couldn’t be worse.

But what am I supposed to do? Proceed marrying someone I’m very confused about at best?

It makes it hard to keep my breathing even, just thinking about everything having turned to shit like that. For a second, I almost let the helpless anger take control of me.

But then I hear a group of students enter the Library, dropping their voices as soon as they do, and it snaps me out of it, the world around me coming into focus again. I push myself off the chair and I order myself to get a grip.

After all, I think to myself as I start walking towards the History Section, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about any of it right now.

So the best course of action I can choose right now, I think as I grab World History after the Unveiling off the shelf, is simply to focus on the very thing I came here to do.

***

My focus only growing, I spend the next couple of hours perusing all the books I’ve stacked on the table in front of me. I’ve already scoured the web for mentions of Queen Vasilisa Romanov. And I got zero hits, which is why my next course of action is taking a closer look at 1865 and 1866 in relation to Peter the Great, the one who led the army that the old man said the Queen led.

If nothing, once I find a certain number of sources with his name in them, it’ll at least convince me of the absurdity of even considering the possibility of the man’s words being true.

But the conclusion that’s forcing itself is an odd one. The year when Peter the Great supposedly died…

There’s not a single recorded document of it happening. No Scion or vampire church records, no old pamphlets, nothing.

Nothing.

And it makes me remember the words of my old History teacher. “Sometimes, Anastasya,” he’d say, “what they sell you as facts are actually mere conjectures.”

Which could mean, I think to myself, my frown growing deeper as I stare at the year marking the end of Peter’s rule…

It could mean the length of his reign was a conjecture.

And that, in turn, leaves the possibility of someone else having been the actual ruler in the space of those two years.

It’s not very likely, I warn myself, but I can feel my impatience growing.

And now, instead of going back to the index cabinets to search for books mentioning the Vasilisas of the world, I find myself getting out of my chair and walking straight for the Librarians’ desk.

As I walk, I decide I won’t be asking about Vasilisa Romanov per se. That would probably only earn me a funny look. So once I’m in front of the desk, I catch the plump shifter girl’s eye and I throw her a smile, choosing to say, “Could you tell me if there were any Vasilisas of high rank during the Umbrage?”

“Hm,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “Not to my knowledge.”

I guess it’s a disappointed look that I throw her, because she asks, “Have you checked Thibault’s Peerage?”

“I have,” I reply with a sigh. “Is there a more comprehensive record?”

She presses her lips and shakes her head. “Sorry.”

But I’m not willing to give up just yet. And for some reason, I find myself asking, “What if I told you there were bones and horses somehow involved?”

“That’s strange,” she comments with a smile. “But if it’s a visual remnant of memory you have, maybe you should try checking out our old painting collections.”

Paintings, fucking paintings, I curse as my lungs fill with excitement. “Thank you,” I mutter and I turn to walk away.

“Do you know where to look?”

“I do,” I reply, only throwing a glance over my shoulder.

I’m in too big of a rush to crack open Blevin’s 15th to 19th century Art Book.

And once I’m back in my chair, I’m not hesitating a second. I’m flipping straight to 1865 and 1866.

Holding my breath, I start scanning the pages, noticing that there aren’t that many of them.

And I’m half-expecting to see someone I’ve never seen before, a woman with a crown on her head, against a background of bones and horses.

But what I see makes shivers run down my spine.

Lady X.

Right between a painting of a noble family in their sitting room and one of hunters out in the woods, there’s the portrait of Lady X.

For a while, I just stare at it, my frown growing deeper and my mind filling with questions that just keep buzzing around my head, refusing to be answered.

Then I hear the clock strike eleven thirty. And it makes me snap out of it and let out a little laugh. This is just an absurd coincidence, for my Lady X to appear here.

And besides, if I want to make it to my little rendezvous, I have to leave, like, right now.

Trying not to actually think about what I’m doing, I get out of the chair, I grab my bag and I rush back to the Elevator.

But as I ride, that just makes my mind go back to Mother’s words. We don’t want him mixing with the wrong crowd.

My eyebrows pulling down as the words keep echoing inside my head, I step out of the Elevator and onto the Lilith Tower ground floor. And I start making my way up, my mind buzzing. What about my own arrangement with a member of the said ‘wrong crowd’? If Mother’s not pleased with the thought of Nikolay very occasionally escorting Howe to the Games… How would she feel about me having regular fuck sessions with him in our House’s Tower?

If I back out now, I think to myself as I start approaching the top, it would be a thing of the past, a one-time judgment lapse no one ever found out about, a non-threat.

But if I meet him again… Lost in my thoughts, I slow to a stop just as I reach the door to the rookery. “Secrets have a way of surfacing,” Father used to tell me.

I frown. Then I let out a little scoff and I reach out to grab the doorknob.

Why the hell am I even worrying about this? This is just a private arrangement between two adults that couldn’t possibly be any more inconsequential.

Yes, I think with a smile. I’ll do exactly what Mother wants me to and I’ll take Nikolay off the buddy duty. They’ll just assign someone else to him. No harm done.

In the meantime, I think as I open the door and step inside, the near darkness waiting for me on the other side… In the meantime, I’ll just let myself have some fun, which is the very point of all this.

And this time, I see him straight away. He’s only a figure in the dark, there on the other side of the room, but he’s already closing the distance.

Losing my breath, I shut the door behind me and I let this pull take me to him.

I barely even see his face or feel his body before clothes start flying, hands grabbing and mouths searching as we stumble around the room, knocking into things and sending others crashing to the ground.

It all stops when he pins me against the wall, tightly, one hand caging me in, the other making its way between my legs and under my panties, the shock of pleasure when the fingers find the sweet spot making me move to bury my face in his neck.

He doesn’t let me. Abruptly, he pulls his hand out and grabs my chin to try to make me look at him.

I manage to resist, but he just does it again, more forcefully this time.

I finally see his face and the eyes boring into mine, and it knocks the air out of my lungs, how serious and intense they are.

“Eyes on me,” he says in a low growl and it makes me unable to tear them away, my breath hitching and a moan almost escaping my lips when he slides his fingers back into me.

***

My face still flushed, I’m rushing to get dressed so I can get him out of here as quickly as possible. Still, my eyes keep darting up to him. He’s standing an arm-length away with his back turned to me, whistling.

The fucker, I think to myself as I let my eyes drag down his body. Once I made it clear that we’re done for today, he threw me such a self-satisfied little smile, and it’s all because I failed to stop myself from letting out that fucking moan. It was a small one and I bit him on the neck to stifle it, but apparently, I bitch as his whistling grows merrier, it wasn’t enough to stop this arrogant bastard from surfacing.

It makes me frown, when the sound suddenly turns into a stifled little laugh.

I stop lacing up my boots. “What?” I demand, my eyes narrowing.

“Nothing,” he replies, innocently yet with such amusement in his voice. “I’m just having the best day, hearing all kinds of things about a certain lady.”

Fuck. The rumors.

“Like?” I ask as I materialize in front of him, shoelaces be damned.

And there he is, looking at me with that grin on his face.

“Like,” he drawls teasingly, making me hold my breath in anticipation of him mentioning the A. “You being last in every subject your first year. Ouch.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “You fucker,” I curse at him. “Do I come blabbing to you every time I hear something about you?”

He takes a step closer, his eyebrows shooting up. “Like what?” he asks, a soft, curious smile dancing on his lips.

The writing from that bathroom wall, Dahrian Howe is the best lay ever, echoes through my mind, making blood rush to my cheeks.

But he’s still looking at me, waiting for a reply. “I don’t know,” I finally blurt out.

“Oh, you don’t know?” he drawls. “Well,” he says, pausing to lean a little forward and throw me a grin from up close, “consider me convinced.”

Shooting him a nasty look, I shove at his chest to get him away from me, which only earns me another little laugh. “And just for the record,” I snap at him, eager to save face, “every success I’ve had, I’ve earned, with hard work and dedication.”

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, nothing but respect from me there.”

It makes me frown, when I realize there’s not a smidge of mockery in his voice. I stay silent for a second, wondering what kind of game he’s playing. Then I shake my head and I say, the words coming out a little harsher than I’d want them to, “You’re making us linger.”

And I turn on my heel and start for the door.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he says as he rushes to block my way, still with that grin on his face. “Where are you rushing off to?”

I stop midstep and I throw him an incredulous look. “Lingering is against the rules.”

He takes a step closer. “And in that little world of yours, when a rule is broken,” he asks, squinting at me a little, “what happens exactly? Indulge me.”

“Things lose meaning,” I find myself saying, without any reservation whatsoever. Then I clear my throat and I push past him, confused about what just happened.

“Wow, that’s big,” I hear him say, a little more pensively. Then he appears before me, making me stop, again. “But then it also never changes.”

He sees me frowning and explains, “The meaning. Right? Everything always stays the same and there’s no room for discovery, no freedom.”

I just let out a scoff and say in a mocking voice, “Sure, and flow is everything and everything is flow, and we should all burn our phones and go live off the land, right?”

That makes him blow a laugh through his nose.

“What?” I demand, frowning.

For a second, he just looks at me as if I’m being thick. “I just find you interesting,” he finally says, matter-of-factly. He shakes his head at me, smiling and frowning at the same time. “Isn’t it obvious?”

And there it is, yet another ‘idiot’ at the tip of my tongue that makes me have to suppress a smile tugging at my lips. I shake it off. “Interesting meaning weird,” I say. Then I walk around him and keep going for the door.

“You know,” I hear him say, with yet another laugh, just as I reach for the doorknob, “for someone as smart as yourself, Romanov, you sure can be stupid sometimes.”

I turn to throw him a smirk. “From now on, Howe, there’s only one thing you’re allowed to use that mouth for.”

He just looks at me for a second. Then his eyebrows shoot up and he laughs, the sound low but clear, rough but joyful. It makes a flutter appear in my stomach. But I shrug it off, I open the door, and he lets me push him out and shut it behind him.

I keep standing there, my palms pressed to the prickly wooden surface, listening to him leave. He’ll think I’m only waiting for the coast to clear before I leave myself, and that suits me just fine. Because there’s no way to explain what I’m about to do and still be seen as sane.

***

I enter the portrait room, the silence becoming deafening when I close the door and turn around. And there it is, my Lady X hanging off the damp stone wall in near darkness.

The same as always.

And more importantly, identical to the painting I found recorded in the Art Book.

For a second, I just keep standing there, right where I found myself. There’s this reluctance in me to give the feeling serious consideration.

On the other hand, I think as I stare at Lady X, I’m already feeling the same rush of excitement I got when I went looking for Vasilisa and found her.

Somehow, I know this means something.

So I take a step forward and I let my eyes sweep over the painting. The cracked paint, the delicate brushstrokes, the pure black used for the little lady’s eyes.

Softly, I come as close as I can and I take a whiff of the canvas.

No smell of magic whatsoever.

Then, I give the painting three light taps, just what I do to get inside this room.

Nothing happens.

For a second, I keep waiting. Finally, I conclude it’s safe, my lips curling into a smile.

I get the painting off the wall and I take my time inspecting it, looking for an inscription at the back or anything that could tell me if my hunch is right.

But there’s nothing there.

Fighting a rush of desperation, I let out a frustrated breath and I put the painting back on the wall.

I take a step back and, as usual, I let my body slide down the door and all the way to the floor. “You know,” I start, talking to silent Lady X who right now seems to be smirking, “last time I saw you, I called you a stupid fucking bitch.”

I blow a joyless little laugh through my nose. “But you must think I’m even crazier now, actually entertaining the thought you’d somehow be the imaginary Vasilisa Romanov.”

My entire body instantly on alert, they make me jump to my feet, the gush of cold air and something being sucked out of the painting and into the darkness to my left.

For a second, I stay frozen in place, my breathing becoming heavier as I keep my eyes fixed on the painting before me.

It’s a different painting now. Blood curdles in my veins when I finally manage to process it.

It’s just a painting of a garden now. No Lady X in sight.

But there is something or someone in the room with me, lurking from the shadows to my left and making me have to fight not to look its way.

Then a strange, echoing female voice sounds from that direction. “How do you know my name?”

Slowly, I force myself to look to my left. I have to fight not to suck in a sharp breath when I spot a pair of narrowed eyes staring at me from the shadows.

So there really is a Vasilisa.

Be brave, Nyx, I urge myself. “Were you really a Queen?” I hear myself ask in a breathless voice.

For a second, the eyes only narrow even more. “I believe you didn’t answer my question,” comes the reply.

And there’s something about those eyes, how bloodshot they look, that’s keeping me tongue tied, but I force myself to relax and say, “Um, you didn’t answer mine, so I guess we’re even?”

The next second, I see a tall, dark-haired female vampire in an ancient-looking riding uniform with a skull crown on her head appear before me, grabbing me by the wrist and gritting her teeth as she drawls, “How. Do. You. Know. My. Name.”

The touch, only painful at first, quickly becomes unbearable, burning my skin and my flesh with an intensity I wouldn’t think possible. Fighting not to scream, I let my eyes dart to my wrist and I see the little red dots appear near the surface of my skin.

Blood Magic, she’s a Blood Magic user.

But the pain becomes unbearable and the eyes that are on me are so merciless, I start fearing she’ll kill me right then and there. So I rush to say, my voice staggered with strain, “A book, an interview with a man who fought in the Umbrage.”

Just as I say that, her magic creates a dark-red bruise around my wrist and I see her eyes dart to it, the gaze lingering.

“Let go,” I demand, but she doesn’t.

She frowns and then, to my surprise, she leans to sniff at my wrist.

And she gives it a little lick.

What the…

“Who are you?” she demands as she looks back up to me. Her eyes narrow. “Are you one of mine?”

The question leaves me dumbfounded. And I guess I am, and maybe knowing that will make her finally let go, so I just say, “Um, the name is Anastasya Konstantinova Romanova.”

She doesn’t let go. In fact, she only tightens her grip, making me grit my teeth.

“And what do you know about me,” she asks with a sly smile, “little great-great-granddaughter?”

“Nothing,” I rush to say, shaking my head vigorously, in case it was knowing anything that would get me killed. “Absolutely nothing.”

She just looks at me for a second, thinking. Then she squints. “Then why are you here?”

I just look at her with gritted teeth, defiance making me throw caution to the wind.

She digs her nails into my skin, but it’s not that which makes me wince. It’s the way she makes my blood burn even more.

“The Games that the Academy is holding,” I mutter, struggling for air, “they’re the first since the Umbrage, and there are these things happening...”

Now, that makes her eyebrows shoot up a little. And in turn, she finally loosens her grip a little.

I don’t hesitate. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grab the knife out of my holster and I swing my arm in the direction of the portrait, stopping just before I cut into the canvas.

Carefully, I open my eyes and I see the surprised, pissed-off look on her face.

There’s a second of silence before she lets go of my arm and I snatch it back, keeping the knife exactly where I have it.

“My turn,” I say, in a breathless yet victorious voice.

I watch her take a deep breath and close her eyes, looking as if she’s rolling them. “Fine,” she finally says.

“What the fuck is this shit?” I demand as I throw a glance at the painting.

For a second, she just looks at me. Then she lets out a little snicker, comes to lean her head on the canvas and says, matter-of-factly, “It’s a portrait of me. Didn’t you catch the resemblance, little great-great-granddaughter?”

She lets out a laugh, tearing herself from the painting and looking me straight in the eye. “The sketch was taken on a beautiful day in August, a year before I fought my husband to the death, cut his heart out and took his throne for myself.”

She takes a step closer, making my breath hitch. “You know what I did next?” she leans in to whisper. “I went and I drained the painter of this fucking portrait.”

Blood curdles in my veins as she pulls away a little.

“Why aren’t you in any of the history books?” I demand through gritted teeth. “Why aren’t you in our fucking graveyard?”

“Excellent questions,” she says, but then she appears so close, and I can do nothing to stop her from forcing the knife from my hand.

The next thing I know, she has me pinned against the wall, my heart pounding as the tip of the blade presses against my throat. But it’s in a playful voice that she says, “But I’m more interested in the Games and these things happening, as you so eloquently put it. What are they?”

“Um,” I start, swallowing carefully so as not to cut myself, “the Box acting weird and hurting players during the First Game, a murder happening that may or may not be related, the Guardian being relieved of duty, someone breaking in to tamper with the Box—”

At this, she pulls the knife away and takes a step back. There’s a chill in her voice when she demands, “Did you say the Box has no Guardian?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I first rub my throat with my hand. “I did. They’re currently deciding who the next one will be, but they’ve put the Box in a safer place.”

“Safer place?” she echoes with a mocking laugh. Then she takes a step closer again, her eyebrows pulling down in a menacing frown. “Do you know how terrible the Box’s magic can be, girl? It’s not for nothing that it needs a Guardian.”

“You’re talking as if I can do something about it,” I snap at her.

“Didn’t you say you were one of mine?”

“I am,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Well fucking take care of it then,” she snarls at me as she stabs the tip of my knife into the doorframe to her right.

Shaking and seething at the same time, I start moving, eager to get the hell out of this place. And I pull my knife out of the wood, but she stops me before I reach for the doorknob.

“Actually,” she says as I turn to look at her. She’s pointing at the nasty bruise on my wrist. The bruise that’s a lot more than that. “I suggest you first take care of that. Might end up dead if you don’t,” she adds matter-of-factly. “And then how will you do what I asked of you?”

I don’t reply. I just grit my teeth and I watch her disappear back into the painting, Lady X returning to her garden in all her meek splendor.

And I’ve no idea what just happened, I think to myself as I leave the room and then the rookery itself. But I do know I’m going to bed knowing I won’t be able to sleep a wink.

Chapter 20 - Dahrian

With a persistent grin on my face, I slowly make my way out of Lilith Tower and down to the camp, thinking I’ll be going straight to bed with the smell of her still clinging to my skin and that little moan echoing in my head.

But as soon as I come close, I see the light in my tent is on.

And I frown and all my muscles immediately tense up, my fox starting to emit a low growl. I know there are no members of my pack who’d choose to disrespect my privacy like that, which is how I know there must be something wrong.

I practically run there, my mind scrambling in search of possible explanations. But when I fling the flap open and barge inside, there’s the Archon sitting on the chair in front of my desk, looking up at me from her phone with her eyebrows raised.

I breathe a sigh of relief and I walk inside, my mouth cracking into a smile as she stands up to greet me. “Ricky said you wouldn’t mind me waiting in here,” her strong voice booms through the tent as she claps me on the back.

“Course not,” I say as I grab a footstool from under the bed. “Though I sincerely hope you’re only here because you miss my delightful sense of humor,” I say with a tentative laugh as I take a seat in front of her.

“Wouldn’t know if I’d miss it,” she says flatly. “Never heard you say anything funny.”

I blow a laugh through my nose and she gives me a smile, but it’s a joyless one, and it makes me immediately turn serious.

“Dahrian,” she starts as she bends a little forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands, making both mine and my fox’s ears prick up, “what was it that I asked you before you arrived here?”

Fuck. Has something happened? “Keep the peace and stay until the end,” I recite, summoning determination into my voice.

She looks away for a second, squinting. “And would you say you’re upholding your end of the bargain?”

“I would,” I say, though not without hesitation, simply because of the tone of her voice suggesting it might not be the case after all. “There haven’t been any major incidents,” I continue in my reporting voice, “the two groups seem to only be getting closer, and not even this thing with the Box has upset that. As for the Games, we’re still ahead.”

She gives a few slow nods. “And what about you?” she asks as she looks up at me.

“I’m sorry?” I ask.

“You’re staying focused?” she rephrases, looking deeper into my eyes and squinting a little as she does.

For a second, the question leaves me dumbfounded, an image of a pair of dark eyes flicking through my mind. “Why would you even ask that?”

She waves her hand in dismissal and starts getting up, making me follow suit. “Just a couple of things that stuck with me,” she blows out as she looks at me again, this time with a little smile. “You being late for the Second Game, that little spat of yours with Prince Aalders…”

I let out a nervous laugh, running my hand through my hair and feeling like a pup being scolded, as I still sometimes do in front of the all-powerful Brogan.

“What?” she demands, looking at me with kindness in her eyes. “You think I didn’t have to listen to the kids go on about it?”

“It was harmless, really,” I start, but she cuts me off.

“It’s fine,” she says as she comes to stand a little closer, pressing her lips tight. “I just wanted to check in with you because there’ll be changes happening.” She pauses for a second, making me think there’s something bad happening after all. “I’ll need you more focused than ever because I won’t be able to be there for you all as much.”

Now, that makes me frown. But she doesn’t give me the chance to ask what’s happened.

“Our two Academies have appointed me as the next Guardian of the Obscura,” she just says.

There’s a moment of silence before I let out a scoff. “But that’s a good thing, right?” I ask. “Sure, it’s an obligation, but it’s an honor.”

And I try to gauge how she feels about it, but she just gives me another smile and a pat on the back and says, “So it is.”

And with that, she walks out of the tent, the cold winter air managing to worm its way in despite having only a second before the flap falls back into place again.

For a second, I just remain standing there, my mind buzzing.

Then I turn off the lights and I throw myself on the bed, putting my arms behind my head and fixing my eyes on the tent canopy above.

There was something off there, my fox’s voice booms inside my head.

“No shit,” I tell him, but the reply’s not snappy. It’s just… pensive.

No, he protests, making my ears prick up, something was off about her.

I frown. “She was tired. And she didn’t look pleased she was getting the honor.”

For a second, he stays silent, but I can sense him shaking his head. It was something else. Like a smell.

I let out a scoff. “She came here in the middle of the night,” I start, “obviously straight from the meeting where the decision was made. You sure it couldn’t have been all the other Originals’ scents on her?”

He thinks for a second. I guess you’re right.

“Grand,” I say, my mind already rushing back to the top of Lilith Tower, “then you won’t mind if I say goodnight.”

He scoffs to show he doesn’t care.

And just like that, I find myself thinking about it again. The restraint I found in her eyes when I told her to look at me. And I’m feeling good about it, because I now know for sure she’s enjoying herself. But I’m no closer to making her come than I was before, and it’s so little time, what she’s giving me. Not to mention zero options. Whenever I tried to stop her from pushing me over the edge, she only doubled her efforts in the opposite direction, I think with a squint. And once she got her way with me, when I tried to shift the focus back onto her, she turned cold and started getting dressed again.

It’s then that I hear my fox again. Why did you lie about being focused when you’re clearly not?

“I am focused.”

Even if you are now…

That makes me let out a low laugh. “She’s a fucking princess all up in these rules, ambitions and whatnot. I think I’m safe.”

You’ll have to keep me away from her, you know?

I have to fight not to let out a frustrated breath. “I already am.”

I don’t mean it like you think I mean it, he snaps. If you really want to keep this nonsense up… He pauses as if to accentuate exactly how much it’s nonsense, making me roll my eyes. I can’t forbid you, boy. But from now on, with everything that’s going on, he continues, his voice turning serious, threatening even, never letting me near her, that stops being a mere suggestion. You need to start taking it seriously.

Acting like I’m an ignorant pup, I mutter to myself.

And what, you’re not? he snaps.

For a second, I just keep lying there in silence, trying to fight the urge to talk back. “Fine. Now, goodnight already.”

Chapter 21 - Nyx

It’s with a spring in my step that I get dressed in the morning, and come to stand in front of the window to observe the students as they walk the castle grounds down below. It’s been a week since the second term started and everyone is still fresh from winter break, the excitement cutting the cold winter air.

But that’s not why I’m feeling this peppy. It’s January 31st, my twenty-third birthday, which gets me a whole year closer to finishing school and finally getting down to business. I can already picture myself returning to the estate on our native land and taking things into my own hands.

Maybe, just maybe, I dream as I keep gazing out the window, that will involve doing great things, but gods know I’d settle for something much smaller as well, like, for example, making the people under our wing a little bit less miserable.

To make things even better, right now, not even the thought of Max no longer being in the picture can ruin it for me.

And tomorrow… Tomorrow, we have the Third Game scheduled, I think as I walk up to the mirror to give myself a once-over. And I’ve no idea what it’ll be, of course, but it still makes me excited, the very thought of leaving a certain someone biting the dust.

He’s a curious one, I think to myself, for a moment lingering on the squint he sometimes throws me, as if he can see right through me. Despite all his childishness, he sometimes makes me feel as if I’m dealing with someone much older than twenty four. At least he’s somehow making all the other students his age seem as if they’ve just crawled out of the crib.

For a second, I consider texting him to meet me tonight, my mind rushing to the abandoned classroom on the ground floor in which we fucked for the third time since this whole thing started. Heat washes over me when I remember that thing he did with his tongue, driving me mad with desire. I need more of that.

But it’s only yesterday we met up in that classroom and I don’t want to be making a habit out of seeing him more than once a week.

Besides, I tell myself, I have the dinner tonight and now that I think about it, even if I didn’t, it might be a little weird, of all days, to choose my birthday to meet up with my fuck buddy.

And it makes some of my excitement deflate, but that’s the decision I end up going with. And I grab my bag, leave my room and start rushing down the stairs.

On my way, I notice a couple of people throwing me stares. And for a second, my mind threatens to linger on them, but I tell myself not to read into it and keep going straight to the Library.

But it’s as soon as I land in the Common Room that I change my mind.

There’s Nikolay at our table, sitting in his armchair clad in an expensive suit, looking as if he’s waiting for someone.

For a second, I frown. Then it makes my lips tug into a smile, when he spots me and waves me over. Is this about my birthday, I think with a warmth spreading through my chest.

“Who is this dashing young man?” I ask as I approach him, making my voice all theatrical like we used to, pretending to be actors during those solitary afternoons in Mother’s quarters. “Early morning light makes it hard to put a name to the face.”

But Nikolay doesn’t smile. “Had a meeting,” he just says and motions for me to take a seat.

Frowning, I do as I’m told.

“Is it true, sis?” he asks as soon as I settle in.

“What?”

“That you want Max back?”

I shake my head, throwing him an incredulous look. “Who told you that?” I demand. “Was it Mother?”

“It’s what everyone’s saying,” he says as he motions at the room in general. “I mean, not as nicely, of course.”

I turn to look around, making a couple of heads snap back, their owners scrambling not to be caught looking. So that’s what those stares were about. Also, ‘not nicely’, that’s what Nikolay just said. Which means they’re not just saying that I want Max back. They’re saying that I’m begging him to get back with me, or some other stupid shit like that. Shit that would make him look good, of course.

I feel myself start to fume. I have to fight not to let the emotion show when I turn back to my brother and say, “Well, the other day, they came out with the revelation that it was him who broke up with me, not the other way around.” I pause to throw him a frown. “You do understand that rumors don’t necessarily have anything to do with actual truth?”

He impatiently waves a hand, as if nothing I've just said is of any consequence. “But is it true?” he demands, leaning a little forward in his chair.

His persistence makes me frown. “Of course it isn’t,” I snap at him. Then I squint. “But what’s it to you?”

Letting out a frustrated breath, he throws himself back in his chair. “The land sale… It’s not going well.”

“The land sale?” I demand, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, my frown growing deeper. “What do you mean by that? There is no land sale anymore.”

I’m no longer with Max, I think to myself, and that was all his doing.

Nikolay just clicks his tongue at me. “Oh yeah there is. But ever since you called off the engagement, I’ve only had trouble with it.”

I have to fight not to start yelling at him. “Really? Can’t your buddy Max help you with that?”

“Well, if you hadn’t broken up with him,” he pushes himself up a little to hiss at me, “maybe he’d still be replying to my texts.”

Now, that makes me slump back in my chair. “I see,” I just say, things finally falling into place in my head. When he, my brother darling, told me he supported me in calling off the engagement, he only did so because Max had already broken up with him.

“Nevermind,” he says as he sinks back in his chair again and leans his head on the backrest, a sour look on his face, “I just thought you might have made all the complications go away. I guess I’ll just have to deal with it on my own.”

For a second, I stay silent, trying to fight off the urge to grab him by the collar, lift him off that fucking chair and start shaking his pouty, whiny ass until he begs me to stop. He’ll deal with it on his own, I think to myself with bitterness in my mouth. If I let him try to save the land, he’ll only end up fucking running it into the ground.

So I decide I have to do something to get his mind off it. I take a deep breath and I say, “Hey.”

He doesn’t lift his head off the armchair, but he does turn it a little, to gaze at me from an angle with this sad, grumpy look in his eyes.

It makes me stay silent for a second and my voice soften when I say, “You know, Nick, I realize things are tough right now.” I pause for a second. “It’s just, I’ve never pictured you doing stuff like that. Seems so… trivial for someone such as yourself.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his face lighting up.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he says as he pushes himself up in the chair, staring at me with unseeing eyes and a slightly manic expression on his face. “Maybe I should be one of those people who make fortunes investing in stuff.”

For a second, I just blink at him, wondering if I should tell him it’s not just browsing stuff when you feel like it that that particular job would entail. I decide not to get into it. “Yeah, think about it, sure,” I tell him with a warm smile.

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin, springing up from his chair and leaning to give me a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, sis. Now I have a raid to attend…”

Raid? Ah, video games.

“...but tonight at the party, we can talk about it some more.”

“Party?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling down. “You mean, dinner.”

“No, Howe’s party,” he says, mouthing the word as if to a half-wit. Then he lets out a self-satisfied little chuckle and turns to walk away.

But I’ve already gotten up and come to block his way. “No, Howe’s not throwing any parties at the moment,” I say as I squint at him. “As Student Leader, I think I’d know about it.”

Nikolay shrugs. “I don’t know, everyone got the e-vite.”

It feels like a slap across the face.

But my brother’s moving to push past me and I reach out my hand to stop him. “Hey,” I ask, dropping my voice a little, “does that mean you’re not coming to my birthday dinner?”

He throws me a grin. “Oh yes, happy B-day. And sure I am, sis, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He claps me on the back and then winces a little, apologetically. “I’ll just have to duck out a little early. But you’ll probably do the same, won’t you?” he asks, but it’s not an actual question.

No, I won’t, I think as I watch him turn on his heel and stroll away. I won’t because I’m the fucking… I grind my teeth, my hands balling into fists.

I guess this won’t be such a nice day after all, I think as I start walking out of the Common Room.

Mother did remember my birthday this year, but only as an excuse to get me in the same room with Max, people are once again spreading rumors about me, and Howe’s throwing a party I don’t even know about.

And, sure, I get it. After all, I’m the one who insists on keeping the conversation to a minimum and not having anything to do with each other outside of our little arrangement.

But it still stings to be singled out like this.

It makes me even grumpier, when I remember I’ve never even received the form. Because, besides not getting the fucking e-vite, being Student Leader, I now have to go see why they haven’t filed the official paperwork, for a fucking party I wasn’t even invited to.

On my fucking birthday.

***

Gripping a copy of the form as I fight to stay calm, I march down the slope to the camp. I don’t want to be that person, but it’s proving to be hard, raising above the urge to rehearse saying, with a fake smile, “No, sorry, but it’s just too late for you to get the approval.”

So it’s only once I’m on the plateau, looking around, that I realize how deserted the camp is.

“Need help?” a shifter girl asks, smiling, as she sticks her head out of one of the tents.

“Yeah,” I blurt out, clearing my throat and frowning a little. “I’m looking for Howe.”

She tilts her head at me, then walks out of the tent with a light scarf in her hand, making me frown when I see how beautiful she is. “He may be indisposed right now,” she says.

“Still have to see him,” I tell her, a little too harshly.

“Gotcha.” She throws me a wide smile, making me feel like a real bitch for reacting to her the way I did. And she throws the scarf on and says, “I was just about to go down there myself. Follow me.”

I force myself to throw her a smile and I do as she says. As we walk, my eyes get drawn to her bright nail polish and the colorful highlights in her rich, dark hair.

“Sorry for being a little slow, it’s less than ten minutes ago that I woke up,” the girl tells me as she keeps leading me in the direction of the Grimm Tower, behind which looms the woods bordering the castle wall. She throws me another smile as she says, “Dahrian sure likes to start trainings early.”

I notice a familiarity in the way she says his name, but it’s at that exact moment that I hear some kind of chatter, I turn away from her and I spot them all. A bunch of students standing and sitting around in a wide circle, watching the fight between a dozen shifters in their animal forms.

One of which is the largest, most dangerous-looking fox I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s stalking left right, calmly but with its focus on the wolf shifters circling it, who all seem to be engrossed in waiting for a chance to attack.

“I’ll go tell him you’re looking for him,” the girl says, snapping me out of it and making me realize we’ve come to a stop just a little outside the circle of people mesmerized by the fight.

It’s only when she starts marching into the ‘ring’ that I realize what she’s doing.

She’s planning on interrupting the session? I open my mouth to yell no after her, but it’s too late.

The fox has already spotted her.

It stops stalking.

The next second, my eye gets drawn to one of the wolves surrounding it, taking the little distraction as an opportunity to attack. I see the fox lazily swing its front paw, sending the wolf flying back and hitting the ground with a low thud.

My breath held, I watch the girl keep walking, zero hesitation in her step. The fox stalks a little closer and she looks up to say something.

And the next moment, my heart is pounding because the giant fox is looking straight at me.

But before I can even process what’s going on, I see it kick itself off the ground and dart into a little grove to the right of the ‘ring’.

I don’t tear my eyes away from the spot, not even as the rest of the shifters resume their training.

And the next thing I know, he’s marching straight towards me, his pants already on, but his shirt still in his hand.

He’s actually going to pause his training for this, I think to myself, excitement flooding me as I watch him approach, pulling his shirt on as he goes.

But when he comes to stand in front of me, there’s a frown on his face.

And there’s also a touch of coldness in his voice when he says, “Thought you said no spontaneous meetups.”

They throw me off, both the frown and the voice.

“That’s not what this is about,” I blurt out.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, this low growl in his voice making my eyebrows pull down. “From now on, you won’t be coming to our trainings. Got it?”

For a second, I just keep frowning at him. “Um, yeah,” I drawl as I motion at the actual fucking crowd behind him, “because they’re obviously such private events.”

He doesn’t bother to look back. He takes a step closer, making me take one back. “My fox,” he starts, still so serious, it’s leaving me dumbfounded, “he’s not good around noblewomen.” He pauses to lean in a little and drops his voice to a near whisper. “Likes to pick his teeth with their privileged bones.”

I can’t even tell if he’s being serious or if he’s fucking with me. But there’s this rough finality in his voice that forces me to spit out one little butthurt, “Alright.”

“Alright, what?” he demands.

What the…

“Alright,” I practically hiss, my hands balling into fists, “I won’t be coming to the trainings.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then, as if nothing happened, his mouth cracks into a grin.

“Grand,” he says as he takes a step back, looking and sounding a lot more like himself all of a sudden.

“Yeah, grand,” I drawl, frowning and moving to get very far away, very quickly.

“Hey, now that that’s settled,” I hear him say before he blocks my way, casually sliding his hands into his pockets and tilting his head at me, “you still have to tell me what this visit is about.”

It makes me frown. Is he actually planning on ignoring the way he acted a fucking second ago?

Smiling, he raises his eyebrows at me. “I dare not think Lady Romanov would come in person to RSVP for the party tonight.”

I was invited after all? Fuck. The form.

“Actually…” I make myself dismiss all this weirdness, I remind myself what I came here to do in the first place, and I raise the form I’ve been gripping in my hand this whole time. “I’m here to give you this.”

And I hold it out for him with one quick, sharp swing of my hand.

He squints at me. Then he takes the paper from my hand and starts skimming the content.

“It’s the form you needed to file before you proceeded to throw a party,” I explain. Making sure not to get any closer, I point as I add, “You need to fill all this out, read the Grimm Academy event regulations and check this box right here, saying you’re responsible in case you break any of them. Got it?”

He looks up at me, that mouth curling into a lazy, smirking little smile. “Lemme guess, you know all the Grimm Academy event regulations by heart.”

“And what if I do?” I protest, throwing him a nasty look in the process.

He blows out a little laugh and then frowns, throwing another glance at the form. “We’ve never had to do this before.”

“Only because the previous Student Leader wasn’t doing her job.” I fold my arms. Despite him making me feel so confused and stupid for even being here, I’m determined to stand my ground. “That’s not how it’s going to work with me.”

It makes blood rush to my cheeks, when he raises his eyebrows at me and lets out a mocking little wolf whistle.

But he doesn’t wait for a reaction. He cranes his neck and shouts, “Ricky.”

The power with which his voice booms across the field makes me lose my breath.

I’m still staring at him when he turns back to me, throws me a hot, hot grin and says, “He’s the one in charge of this kind of thing.”

It’s just at that moment that my eyes dart to a figure jogging up to us.

“Ricky, mate,” Howe tells him as he slows to a stop, “we’ve got a new sheriff in town.” He gives him the form. “Make sure this is all taken care of.”

Ricky nods, throws me a funny little look, turns on his heel and starts jogging back to the ‘ring’.

I turn my eyes back onto Howe, who’s smiling at me. “Happy?”

“Sure,” I snap, frowning, and I move to finally get myself out of there. “Bye.”

But he just follows me. “So I’ll see you tonight at nine?” I hear him say.

I don’t stop and I don’t turn to look at him. “Not coming.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I have this thing.”

“Like a date or something?”

“No, like a family dinner,” I say with a frustrated frown. I pause before I choose to add, “With some dignitaries thrown into the mix.”

“Dignitaries?” I hear him echo with a little laugh, still walking beside me. “Well, they’re a dime a dozen, everyone knows that. And the party before the day of the Third Game, there’s only one of those.”

And he walks around me, blocking my way. “Come on,” he urges as he locks eyes with me, “cancel the boring stuff.”

What the fuck is it with him today? I throw daggers at him. “I can’t,” I snap, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. And it somehow feels stupid, but I still choose to say, “It’s for my birthday.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Your birthday?” he echoes, turning the volume up a little too much for comfort.

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss at him. “You know how big of a fight I’ve had to put up to keep the date from going public?”

He laughs. “Such highly relatable problems you have,” he comments with a grin, sarcasm lacing his every word.

“Ha ha,” I drawl in the flattest voice I can muster. Then I take a step forward, getting in his face and making his eyebrows shoot up. “See how you like this. If I hear a single word about it, I’m going to kill you with my own two hands.”

“Understood,” he replies, with a serious nod and without so much as a second of hesitation. “So, in short… I tell everyone it’s your birthday and I see you tonight at nine.”

I frown at him, to which he just throws me a grin.

I roll my eyes and move to walk away again.

He doesn’t let me. “Fine,” he rushes to say. “I say nothing about no birthday… and I see you tonight at nine.”

And then there’s another grin.

I have to fight not to let out a frustrated groan. “You say nothing about no birthday,” I start, making my voice as final as possible, “and tonight at nine, you see whoever the fuck you want, except for me.”

He just looks at me for a second. Then he squints. “Yeah,” he drawls, his lips curling into a mysterious little smile, “we’ll see about that.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away. For a second, I just keep standing there, frowning as I watch him go back to training.

What the hell was all this about?

My fox is not good around noblewomen? What’s that even supposed to mean? And, Yeah, we’ll see about that? As if he can force me to come to a party I don’t want to come to.

I let out a frustrated breath, I turn around and start marching away, determined to put it out of my head for good.

***

The more the day goes on, the more untethered and desolate I get. And I don’t really want to go visit the crazy portrait lady, but an hour before I’m supposed to start getting ready for the dinner, I still find myself climbing the stairs to the top of the tower.

It’s been a week since I was last here, I think as I close the door to the painting room behind me. And there’s a part of me that expects it all to be gone, but there she is, still looking at me from the canvas, as silent and subservient as ever.

I slide down to the floor, resting my back on the door.

And for a second, I just look at her, missing the time I only ever came here to wallow in my misery.

If that were still the case, I’d tell her exactly why the very thought of my birthday dinner makes me miserable. I’d talk about the looks they’ll be throwing me now that I’m no longer to become Princess, making me fearful for my future. I’d describe the dress Mother’s making me wear and admit it makes me feel like the worst fucking person in the world, that I sometimes wish she was the one who died instead of Father.

So of course it makes me feel sad, thinking about no longer being able to tell her about this. After all, it’s stuff I have no one to talk to about.

But it makes me angry, not sad, when this morning’s training session pops into my head, for the millionth time today.

I don’t know why it bothers me this much, but there’s this burning need to figure out what the hell that was all about.

Because I know it was bullshit, what he told me about his fox not liking noblewomen. Or was it?

No, it was, I tell myself.

And I know exactly what really happened. It just comes as a surprise because, so far, I’ve somehow managed to avoid even thinking about it.

He told me not to come while they’re training because he’s a fucking player and I’m not his only toy, not even at the moment.

And somewhere on that training ground, I think to myself as my mind conjures up the image of the girl with the highlights, he had some other girl he’s seeing watching them fight.

It’d make a lot of sense, I argue as this sinking feeling overwhelms me, it’d make a lot of sense to keep your fuck buddies from interacting with each other.

Sighing out loud, I let my head fall back and rest on the door, my eyes fixing on Lady X at an angle. It makes her seem even more delicate and inconsequential.

It makes me grit my teeth, decide to stop with the pity session and get up off the floor.

And I really don’t want to talk to this woman right now and I don’t even really need to. After all, at the moment, there are no tensions at the Academy, and the Box is no longer without a Guardian.

But the Third Game is tomorrow and even if nothing bad happens for the rest of the school year, I still have so many questions.

So I force myself to take a step closer, clear my throat and call out, “Vasilisa.”

It makes me stiffen, when she slinks out of the painting and tilts her head at me. “Well hello, little great-great-granddaughter.”

Despite being prepared to see her, it still renders me speechless, how absolutely fucking scary she looks.

She takes a step closer, seemingly enjoying my silence. “Have you done what I asked of you?”

I make myself snap out of it. “It’s been done by someone, sure.”

She appears right in front of me, her hand once again grabbing my wrist, pain shooting through my entire arm. “No one taught you how to give a straight answer, girl?”

“I didn’t have to do anything,” I rush to say, cursing myself for being this stupid again. “By the time I was done with you, the Academies had already chosen the new Guardian.”

“Perfect,” she says happily, releasing me from her grip. “Now all you need to do is keep an eye on them.”

I just look at her for a second, rubbing my wrist. “I can’t do that,” I say with a shake of my head.

She leans against the wall and lets out an annoyed little scoff. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Things are fine right now,” I protest. “And the new Guardian is the Fiáin Academy Archon. I’d have no excuse for sniffing around her.”

Now, that makes a flash of surprise flick through her eyes. She gets in my face, her low snarl and the flash of her fangs making my heart start to pound, “Listen to me, girl… If the new Guardian is of the Fiáin Academy, you’re in more serious trouble than I thought.”

Then she pulls away, seemingly seething.

For a second, I just blink at her. “I want you to tell me what happened,” I finally urge her, “what really happened a hundred and fifty six years ago.” I take a step closer, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Why are there so many conflicting stories and why the fuck are you in a painting?” I ask as I motion at the portrait to my right.

“It’s of no consequence whatsoever,” she spits out. “Just do as you’re told.”

“With that as an explanation?” I protest. Then I imitate her mockingly, “If the new Guardian is of the Fiáin Academy, you’re in more serious trouble than I thought.”

For a second, she just looks at me, her eyes narrowing. “Are you all so whiny?”

My eyebrows pull down. “Pardon?”

“The children of your century,” she explains as she takes a step forward, tilting her head at me. “Are you all so whiny?”

“What the…”

This time, she imitates me, a mocking smile dancing on her lips as she twists her face in fake anguish. “I know it was bullshit, what he told me about his fox not liking noblewomen.”

It takes me a while to connect the dots, but when I finally do, I’m charging straight at her, “You used Mind Magic on me?”

She just folds her arms, quirking an eyebrow at me. “I did,” she replies flatly.

“You do understand that’s not okay?”

“Not okay?” she echoes with a mocking laugh. Then she turns serious. “There are far worse things in the world, girl, than someone using Mind Magic to find out you’re fretting about some boy. Should I add ‘ignorant’ to your being whiny?”

Hot blood rushes to my cheeks. “You should mind your own fucking business,” I drawl angrily, “that’s what you should do.”

“Let me think about it,” she says, pretending to do it. “After fighting tooth and nail to usher in an era of true strength for our family, after seizing absolute power for myself despite everything and everyone, and after ruling our lands for longer than any man or woman before me…”

She pauses to throw me a warning look. “My progeny showing all the signs of stupidity and spinelessness… I’d say that is my own fucking business.”

Stupidity and spinelessness? For a second, I find myself unable to speak. Then, when I do, I’m so angry, I end up stuttering through gritted teeth, “Well, you’re a fucking painting, so…”

And I turn on my heel and I move for the door, hearing a little chuckle from behind my back.

“And you’re spineless and you’ll do exactly as you’re told anyway,” she says, right before I slam the door on her.

But once I’m in my room, I proceed to do nothing other than proving her point, throwing daggers at the chic yet large red bow adorning the corset, but still putting on the overly elaborate dress Mother picked out for me.

***

The dinner drags on, so by the time my driver is pulling up in front of Lilith Tower, it’s already eleven o’clock.

And both Hilde and Nikolay ducked out almost as soon as it started, and my feet are killing me, and I’m in the worst fucking mood, but I force myself to throw him a smile when he comes to open the door for me. “Thanks, Wolfgang,” I say as I get myself out. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Lady Romanov.”

I hear him get back inside and start the engine, the car gliding away from me, but I’m already walking, my eyes fixed ahead and my mind buzzing.

I don’t get very far. As soon as I see them, I stop midstep. Two figures walking out of the shadow cast by the Tower in front of me.

My eyebrows pull down.

They both come to a stop before me, a nearby lamp finally casting some light onto their faces.

“Can I help you?” I ask. They seem so familiar, I think with a growing frown, my fingers flexing to grab my knife.

“Yes,” the left one starts, the touch of nervousness in his voice taking me by surprise. “Um… Lady—”

“Miss Romanov,” the right one cuts in, slightly annoyed.

It makes me finally put the name to the faces.

The O’Malley brothers.

“Nyx is fine,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Well,” the nervous one starts, a piece of paper in his hands, “we’re here to tell you…”

And he hesitates again.

“Right now,” the annoyed one cuts in again, snatching the paper from him, “down at the camp, there are the following Grimm Academy event regulations being broken.”

That makes me frown, but he just looks down at the paper and starts reading. “Article four, article five, article seven—”

It finally hits me and I jump straight in, my eyes narrowing. “Howe sent you, didn’t he?”

The nervous one rushes to answer. “He did, Lady—”

But the annoyed one just jabs him in the elbow. “Will you shut it?” he hisses in a low voice. “He said to read ‘em all.” Then he clears his throat and turns to face me again with the paper in front of him. “Article thirteen—”

I shake my head in frustration. “Well,” I cut in again, “you can tell Howe to go fuck off.”

And I move to walk around them, regulations be damned, when I hear the annoyed one just keep going, “Article twenty one—”

It makes me stop midstep and turn back to them. “Twenty one?” I demand, my hands balling into fists. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

And without so much as a moment of hesitation, I start marching straight to the camp, the two brothers tailing me in silence.

***

It does come as a little surprise, when I start approaching the plateau and see how festive it all looks. There are fires lit everywhere, wreaths of flowers adorning all the wooden posts and people gathered in cheerful little groups, drinking and laughing.

But it’s not the party I’m here for. So I motion for the brothers to take me to Howe and I follow them to the largest group of people around the largest fire.

And there he is, standing with his back turned to me, but almost as soon as my eyes fix on them, he throws a look over his shoulder and spots me.

His mouth cracking into a grin, he says something to the guy to his left, patting him on the back. Then he turns on his heel, walks out of the circle and drawls, “Who do we have here?”

Fucker. But he doesn’t let me answer. He dismisses the brothers with a quick nod and turns back to me, leaning a little to say, “I thought you said I’d be seeing whoever the fuck I want, except for you.”

“Oh shut it,” I drawl. “Where are the fireworks? Don’t you know they could anger the mermaids?”

He blinks at me, feigning innocence. “Oh, sorry about that. Did I forget to inform you we won’t be breaking any of those regulations after all?”

For a second, I just throw daggers at him. “You fucker,” I finally say, but then I see his eyes dart to my fucking bow and I frown.

There’s a split second of silence before he lets out a little snicker.

“What are you looking at?” I demand, blood rushing to my cheeks.

“Nothing, sorry,” he rushes to say, stifling a laugh. “I mean, I did tell people to dress up a little so you wouldn’t stand out as much, you know, arriving from your fancy party.” He gestures at the bow, his face beaming with amusement. “But this…”

Snap his neck. I want to snap his fucking neck. “I’m leaving,” I spit out and I turn to walk away.

He appears in front of me, making me stop midstep. And there’s this playful urgency in his voice when he leans in to say, “Not unless you want me to tell everyone why this is such a special, special day.”

I pull away to shoot him a look that’s both angry and a little bit concerned.

“Kidding, just kidding,” he rushes to say as he takes a step back, raising his hands in defense. “I’ll be taking it to the grave,” he adds in a somber voice.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

He clears his throat. “Come on, stay a while,” he says as he motions at a point behind my back.

I throw a glance over my shoulder, hearing him say, “Look, your brother and your cousin are already here.”

And there they are, standing in a large group of people around a nearby fire, with drinks in their hands and glows of excitement on their faces.

Well… They do seem like they’re having fun.

I hear Dahrian clear his throat and I turn to look at him again. He’s holding a whiskey out for me, smiling again. “Here, a welcome drink before I get out of your hair.”

I squint at him. Then I accept the glass and I take a sip. “Just this one,” I say, letting out a content sigh as I feel the pleasant burning in my throat.

“Sure,” he drawls as if he doesn’t believe me, the smile dancing on his lips making me feel a little rush of excitement. “Have fun.”

And he gives me a little wink. A wink.

I roll my eyes at him, but I do smile.

I watch him turn and go back to his group, finding myself hesitating. What the fuck am I doing?

Then I see the girl with the highlights standing in the same circle as him and I feel this pang shoot through my core.

Half an hour won’t hurt, I decide as my mind starts buzzing. And I make myself turn on my heel and head straight to my brother and Hilde.

But I barely take a single step before I hear someone call out, “Miss Romanov.”

And I stop and I turn around to see Ricky walking up to me, throwing me a warm smile.

***

I set my glass on a nearby table and I throw the nerdy little shifter a smile back, saying, “Didn’t I already tell you to call me Nyx?”

For a second, he just blinks at me. Then he remembers and he runs his hand through his hair, letting out a little laugh. “Yeah, I guess it slipped my mind.”

“Being kept in a dungeon for a crime you didn’t commit will do that to you,” I say, not without hesitation.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he reacts with an awkward, but amused laugh.

“But you seem to be the only one not confused by the etiquette,” I tell him, referring to him knowing that, being a student here, I don’t need to be addressed as Lady by others at the Academy.

It takes him a second to connect the dots. “Ah yes,” he says once he does. He smiles and then says, matter-of-factly, “I’ve spent a lot of time studying my family’s history. And they’re royal as well.”

Now, that makes my eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yes, I’m an orphan,” he adds. Then he waves his hand as if in an apology. “If you don’t mind me being so blunt, of course.”

A pang of sympathy shooting through me, I vigorously shake my head. “No, not at all.”

He gives me a cute little smile. “Thank you. So yes, I’ve no family to speak of, but this is the sigil of my family line.”

And he shows me his cufflinks, engraved with something so complex, I can’t make out a single element.

“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head in apology. “Not familiar with it.”

He lets out an awkward little laugh and scratches himself on the head. “Well, Nyx,” he says, peering into my eyes in this really endearing way, “I’m actually here because your brother has put me in an awkward position.”

My eyebrows pull down. “What did he do?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he says with a wave of his hand. “He’s given me this…”

And he rummages through his pocket, producing an expensive looking fountain pen. “And he won’t let me refuse it.”

He puts it back in his pocket and scratches his head again, squinting at me with embarrassment clearly written on his face. “So now I have to come up with a gift for a duke on the budget of a church mouse.”

It makes me want to hug him. I contain myself, but my voice is still a lot softer when I say, “Seriously, don’t bother. Nikolay has everything he could ever possibly want for.”

I hesitate for a second before I say, “Besides, he loves giving people stuff. It makes him happy.” For a second, I remember the way he used to be — considerate, protective, loving. Now he reserves that for others. When did it all turn to shit, I wonder. But I make myself snap out of it.

“So,” I tell Ricky, “if you want to say thanks, take him for a night out or something.”

“Thanks, Nyx,” he replies with a smile and a nod. “You’re really kind.”

I let out a little laugh. “Not something people often tell me.”

He throws me a warm smile and says, “I’ll be out of your hair now. Have fun.”

I nod, but it’s at that moment that I hear Dahrian’s voice sound from my right and my eyes dart to his circle, where I see the girl with the highlights standing quite a bit closer to him.

And I reach out my hand to stop Ricky just as he moves to walk away. “No, hey, Ricky…”

He stops, blinking at me in anticipation.

“Why don’t you have a drink with me?” I suggest with a smile. I motion at the circle my brother and cousin are standing in. “I’m not too eager to listen to my brother talk about video games,” I say with an awkward little laugh. Then I add, putting an effort into sounding nonchalant, “And I’d be curious to hear how today’s training went for you.”

Ricky throws me a knowing little smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Keep your enemies close?” he asks.

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Something like that,” I say with a conspiratorial wink.

He laughs. “Well, wouldn’t matter either way.” And he motions for me to join him at the nearest empty table. “I’m far from the strongest in the pack,” he starts as soon as I do. “In my case, training means getting to know the pack’s behavior better so I can support them in combat as best I can.”

I nod, but that’s not what interests me. “I’m guessing Howe would be the strongest,” I say flatly.

“Look at you,” Ricky drawls, throwing me another knowing smile. “Working on some diabolical plan?”

I let out a laugh. “Always.” And I anxiously wait for the answer.

“Of course he’s the strongest,” Ricky says simply, “he’s the alpha for a reason.”

But that doesn’t get me any closer to the answer I’m really looking for. “Yeah,” I start, a little hesitantly. “But I saw his fox today and something about it sparked my curiosity. It seems… more than strong.” I wave my hand in an apology. “Sorry, I don’t know how else to put it. And of course, feel free not to answer,” I rush to add, understanding what I’m asking.

“Not a secret really,” he says with a shake of his head. Then he lets out a little laugh. “I mean, I know for a fact that everyone who bet on the Games already has this info, which makes for a hell of a lot of people.”

I smile, but he quickly turns serious. “And I know exactly what you mean when you say more than strong.”

It makes me hold my breath, the possibility that he’s actually about to answer my question.

“So,” he starts, getting instantly engrossed and making me lean a little forward, “every shifter has two sides to him or her, one human and one animal.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“We all know, deep inside our bones,” he continues, passionately, “that this bond should never be severed. There’s, like, this really strong gut feeling at the very thought of it being destroyed. But it’s not the same task for everyone.”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head. “Some shifters are born with animal souls that are older than others.” Shrugging his shoulders, he admits, “No one really knows how these things work, but it’s still a fact. And the older the soul, the harder it is to keep under control.”

“Let me guess,” I cut in, squinting at him a little, “Dahrian’s fox has an old soul.”

“Yes,” he says in a somber voice. “I believe it’s the main reason he got chosen for an alpha at such an early age.”

And that’s all fine, I think to myself. Still, it doesn’t answer my question. “It’s dangerous though?” I dare to ask, just not about Dahrian in particular. “So shifters like that sometimes have to keep their animals away from people?”

Ricky thinks for a second. “Not Dahrian,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I mean, it was true, when I said he didn’t have it easy. But this has also forced him to become better than most. And if he didn’t show great control,” he keeps saying with absolute conviction, “they never would’ve picked him to lead the pack.”

“I see,” I say, forcing a normal voice. So I was right, I think to myself, when I thought the reason I was given today was bullshit.

And I dare to throw a single glance back at his circle, only to see the girl with highlights now standing right next to him. “Well, good for him,” I add as I turn back to Ricky, fighting a sinking feeling.

I find Ricky looking at him as well. “Yeah,” he says, seeming to be caught up in some kind of pensive admiration. “It’s the best thing a man can possibly have. The ability to protect his own from whatever harm may befall them.”

For a second, I just look at him. And I find myself wanting to leave the party, this coldness growing inside me. But when he turns to look at me again, throwing me another warm smile, I get the need to at least make it so this ends on a positive note for him.

So I lean in, I give a smile back and I ask, “Tell me, Ricky, how’re you liking it here, really?”

And I watch his mouth crack into a grin, but it’s at that exact moment that I hear Nikolay bellow, “Hey, sis, over here.”

***

I’m on my fourth whiskey, standing in a circle around a fire with Ricky to my left, Nikolay to his and Hilde standing across from us, chatting with one of the O’Malley brothers. I myself am trying my hardest to listen to Ricky talk about, as he says, the coolest professor he ever had.

But my mind keeps wandering, aimlessly and hopelessly.

I haven’t seen or heard him in, like, forever. I’m starting to think he’s no longer at the party, which, in turn, has me obsessing over where he is.

Forcing myself to snap out of it, I tune back in just as Ricky says, “And that’s when he decided he wouldn’t be teaching anymore.”

“Wow,” I say, feeling burning shame for not actually listening, “what a story.”

It’s then that I realize I really don’t want to be here anymore.

“It is a good one, yeah,” Ricky replies with excitement written all over his face.

Then he pauses to look deeper into my eyes. “But you see,” he adds with a knowing smile, “despite the fact you now know I’m of royal blood, you really don’t have to be sucking up to me like this.”

Now, that actually makes me let out a laugh.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom,” he says with a smile.

And at the same time my nose fills with a certain scent, his eyes dart to a point behind my back.

I watch him give a little wave with a grin from ear to ear and I freeze, knowing exactly who it is he’s just waved to.

And it makes me want to beg him to stay, but he just throws me another smile and leaves for the bathroom.

I find myself standing next to Nikolay, who’s showing something on his phone to a guy to his left. And I have to force myself to look over my shoulder. Where, of course, I see His Hotness strolling over with his hands in his pockets. And I can’t hear it over the music, but I can tell he’s whistling.

Fuck, I think as I turn back. The only thing worse than him not being here at all…

I take my phone out of my clutch and I busy myself with checking my messages, but now I’m starting to hear the whistling, and it just keeps drawing closer until it’s almost in my ear.

It makes me frown, when it stops and I feel him come to stand next to me. Me, of all the fucking spots in the circle.

I look up to throw him a warning look, reminding him of the addendum to the rules, aka keeping the interactions in public to a minimum. But he just looks down at me, intently, with this smirk on his lips, not taking his hands out of his pockets but shrugging his shoulders a little as if to say, “I’m not doing anything, am I?”

My eyes narrow, but it’s then that the guy next to him notices him as well.

“There you are, Boss,” I hear him say, giving him a clap on the shoulder.

And Dahrian turns away from me, without so much as a word, and starts exchanging hellos and little comments with the rest of the group.

I take a deep breath. It’s fine, this is fine.

And just as I look to my brother, hoping I’ll be able to just join in his conversation, said brother turns to throw me a grin and gets his phone in my face, saying, “Look what they’re making it do.”

I fix my eyes on the screen, frowning when I see it’s a video of some kids using Mind Magic on some poor unsuspecting cat.

I open my mouth to say it’s just not okay, that they’re watching this, when I feel a little bump into my right side. My body tingles and my head snaps to shoot Howe another warning look.

I find him already looking at me. “Sorry, am I stepping on the lady’s dress?” he asks with a little smirk.

I squint at him, realizing that that intensity I saw in his eyes a moment ago is actually him being a little tipsy.

“It’s fine,” I say, grumpily, and I turn away without waiting for a reaction.

I hear a little snicker, but I’m already fixing my eyes back on the screen in my chuckling brother’s hands.

But my mind’s not even registering the video so I pull away. I should just leave, I think as my body keeps forcing me to stay focused on a certain someone’s proximity.

“Look,” my brother practically yells as one of the students on the video makes the cat take a theatrical little bow.

For a second, I just look at his childishly lit-up face. And I roll my eyes and blow a laugh through my nose, thinking this is as good a moment to excuse myself from the party as it’ll ever be.

But it’s then that I feel a breath on my neck and I stiffen, hearing Howe ask in a low, teasing voice, “Does that little laugh mean you’re having fun?”

My eyes dart to Hilde, who’s immersed in her own conversation, but still, standing right across from us.

I pull away, I turn to look at him and I say, making a point of using a loud, formal voice, “I am having fun, thank you.”

His eyes narrow. “Thank you?” he leans to echo in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”

I pull away again. “And now you have,” I say, forcing that same flatness into my voice.

“So formal,” he whispers. “Breaks my heart.”

I shoot him a nasty look, subtly tipping my head to where Hilde’s standing. “Sorry to hear that,” I say, through gritted teeth but managing to keep my voice flat. “I’m sure it’ll get better soon.”

But that only brings an urgency to his voice when he leans to hum in my ear, “Not so formal when you have your legs around me.”

And I feel his fingers wrap around the fabric of my dress, just below my waist, and give it a sharp little tug, making my hip bump into his.

Quickly, I pull away so we’re not touching, but it makes my ears burn, when my eyes dart to Hilde and I see her looking at us, a little frown scrunching up her face.

And she almost immediately looks away, but my ears are still burning and now, it feels as if everyone could hear him. And I fail to stop myself. This time, it’s me who leans in, demanding through gritted teeth, “Stop it, alright? You’re drawing attention.”

He pulls away, looking more amused than anything.

But to my surprise, he turns to the guy to his right and whispers something in his ear.

Frowning, I watch the guy’s face light up and I witness the little whisper spreading like wildfire, making the whole circle in which I’m standing get a move on, seemingly headed straight for the makeshift bar.

The next thing I know, Nikolay is leaning to tell me, a spark in his eyes, “There’s feywine being prepared for serving. If we leave right now, we could be first in line.”

He doesn’t wait for my reaction. He slides his phone into his pocket and starts leading his new friend to the bar.

I turn to Dahrian, who’s giving me a self-satisfied little smile.

“Isn’t feywine, like, super strong?” I demand.

But I already have his hand on my lower back, and he’s practically pushing me in the direction opposite the one everyone else went in, down the rickety wooden stairs leading off the plateau.

“Hey,” I say as I throw a glance at him over my shoulder.

But I’m already getting off the lowest step and down onto the ground.

“There,” he says as he appears in front of me, staring into my eyes from up close. “Is this better?”

And he gives my bow a little tug. “Anyone seen that?”

And the tone of his voice is making my stupid skin flush, but I roll my eyes at him and I take a step back. “I don’t care.”

He gets even closer, his body practically pressed against mine, does another little tug and when I raise my hands to push him away, he grabs me by the waist and asks, “How about that?”

I shoot him a look that makes him let out a little laugh, let go of me and take a step back, raising his hands in defense.

“Come on,” he says as he motions at the lake, “take a walk with me.”

I find myself hesitating, but then I give him a smile and motion for him to lead the way.

“So, how was the dinner?” he asks when we start walking side by side. “Any attendees I’d know, besides your brother and cousin?”

The question makes me frown a little, but I dismiss it. “You wouldn’t believe it,” I say, a touch of frustration in my voice, “but my mother actually dared invite Max.”

“Yeah?” he asks, all serious all of a sudden.

“Fortunately for everyone there,” I continue, “he had to excuse himself to go to an urgent audience with the King.”

“So let me get this straight,” he says, a touch of mockery in his voice, “you are not, in fact, begging him to take you back?”

I don’t stop walking, but I do turn to throw daggers at him.

He shrugs. “Had to, sorry. Just heard the rumor, it’s fresh in my mind.”

“Yours and everybody else’s,” I snap a little.

There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “But seriously, how was the dinner? Come on, paint the peasant a picture.”

That makes me blow a laugh through my nose. “Easy,” I drawl, rolling my eyes at the very thought of it all. “Bite-sized food on enormous plates, forced smiles and talk of politics that never seems to go anywhere simply because, well,” I say, finding myself in the middle of a rant, “that would mean the scum actually cares about stuff, now wouldn’t it?”

He laughs. “Why don’t you do something about it?”

“Yeah, I should just kill them all and be done with it, right?” I say pensively, thinking about a certain Vasilisa and her methods.

“Well, didn’t have anything like that in mind, but…”

“Well, it’s either that or playing by their fucking rules, which… is just...”

“Just what?”

“It means a lot of things I don’t want.”

“Like what?”

“Like getting a couple of weeks to rethink breaking off the engagement.”

There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “So you’re not begging, but you are rethinking? What’s the difference?”

It makes me throw him a frown, this bitterness in his voice. Judging me. Is he judging me?

“Well,” I start, fighting not to show my frustration, “excuse me for finding myself in an impossible predicament. Entirely my own fault, of course,” I rush to add. “I know they won’t let me have anything unless I get married, yet I go ahead and break up the best possible match for myself.”

“So, you’re actually sorry you broke up with Prince Charming?” he demands.

“Of course not,” I blurt out, surprised that he’d think that. “You’re missing my point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

It all leaves me a little confused. So there’s a second of silence before he kicks a rock with his boot and then another one before he asks, his tone softer and a little teasing once again, “Did you score any good presents? Diamond-encrusted weapons to kill the attendees with?”

But my mind is still on his reaction to what I said and right now, it’s starting to really hit me, and bother me, how little I know about him.

So just as we get close to a little grove near the Grimm Tower, I stop and I turn to face him, making him stop as well. “So there’s nothing about my situation you’re able to understand?” I ask, earnestly.

For a second, he just throws me that fucking squint of his. Then he shrugs and says, simply, “I just know that there are people who play by the rules and people who make them. Thought you said you wanted to be among the latter.” He shrugs again. “So be among the latter.”

It makes me raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you for real?” I ask, making him frown at me. “I mean, it’s hard to imagine someone breezing through life like that. Is it really all just throwing parties you don’t file the paperwork for,” I ask, finding myself a little breathless, “and fooling around with a whole harem of women at any given time?”

For a moment, we just look at each other.

“How did you know?” he finally whispers, making my eyebrows pull down. “I have to make a confession, Romanov,” he says with a shake of his head, a mocking little smile tugging at his lips, “I’ve never felt this seen before.”

I have to fight not to let out a frustrated groan. Instead, I just shake my head and move to walk back to the camp.

“Whoa,” I hear him say, with a laugh, as he grabs me by the wrist, “where do you think you’re going?”

I turn to throw him an incredulous look and I break my hand free of his grip, deciding it was so fucking stupid of me to get caught up in this little mystery that is Dahrian Howe in the first place. “We should be getting back,” I tell him.

Not angrily. Not bitterly. Flatly.

He tilts his head at me, as if he’s actually taken aback. “Come on,” he protests as he gets a little closer, “what did I do?”

“Nothing,” I say with a shrug, but I take a step back. “I just think it’s time to get back to the party.”

For a second, his eyes narrow, but then he seems to snap out of it. “Yeah, sure,” he says, simply, moving to go with me.

But just as I turn on my heel, he adds, “In a minute.”

And he takes my hand and starts leading me back, straight to the grove.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I demand, but this mix of curiosity and excitement makes me follow, practically running to catch up with him.

“We,” he says without looking back at me, “are getting me a present for your birthday.”

“Getting you a present?” I demand, throwing daggers at his back. “For my birthday?”

“Exactly,” he replies, matter-of-factly, just as we enter the grove.

Then he stops, abruptly, and swings me around so I come bumping into him, his eyes already on mine.

“And look,” he says in a low, teasing voice, making my breath hitch when he slides one hand around my waist and starts tugging at the bow with the other, “it comes so beautifully wrapped. A little over the top, but I love it, thank you.”

I pry his hand off the bow, but there’s this intense flutter in my chest and a tightness in my throat as I say, “You’re being ridiculous.”

He slides the other hand around my waist and pulls me tighter against himself, making me lose my breath when I feel the hardness of his muscles. His eyes narrowing, he throws me a little smirk before he whispers, “Oh I think I know when I’m being ridiculous and this is not it, please and thank you.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m burning up and my voice is breathless when I say, “Well, you’re an idiot either way.”

There’s a flash of hunger in his eyes. “That I am.”

And my eyes dart to his lips, and he catches the glance and moves to kiss me on the mouth.

That snaps me out of it and I turn my face away from his, feeling his lips brush my cheek. “Nope,” I say with a breathy laugh, realizing what I was about to let happen. “No spontaneous meetups. Those are the rules.” And I try to pull away.

He doesn’t let me. “It’s not spontaneous at all,” he protests with such conviction in his husky voice. “I told you I’d be seeing you tonight, now didn’t I?”

And he moves for my neck this time, his breath stroking my skin as he murmurs, “Choosing not to believe me, that’s on you.”

Well… How can I argue with that?

It makes me suck in a sharp breath when he takes a little bite out of my neck. My body tingling with desire, I let him untie the bow with a swift movement of one hand.

I feel the corset loosening, but it’s the very next moment that he gives its bottom a sharp tug with both hands, arms wrapping tightly around me as the mouth finds its way to my left breast and closes around it, the tongue starting to tease my nipple in the most delicious way imaginable.

My breathing turns ragged and my eyes close. “Mmm,” I hum as I grab onto his shoulders, tightly.

At that, he lets out a little groan, one hand flying to my ass and making me go all wet, dying to get his tongue someplace else.

Fuck. I guess I’m doing this, I think to myself, my mind already going blank with desire. And if I am…

I squirm to pull away, making him look up at me with glazed eyes and a frown.

“On your knees,” I tell him, and it makes me lose my breath, when I see the look in his eyes become even more intense and he starts lowering himself to the ground without taking them off me.

Guess it won’t be such a bad birthday after all, I think as I listen to the rustling of my dress as he gets under it.

It makes my spine arch, when I feel the hands stroke my thighs and close around my ass. But it’s the anticipation alone that sends my heart racing even before I feel that deft, deft tongue on my aching, aching clit.

Chapter 22 - Dahrian

I’m still panting, but as soon as I finish, she starts pushing me out of her, her legs still wrapped around me as I hold her pinned to the tree with my forehead resting on her temple. And I get myself out, but I don’t let her down. And I give her zero time to snap out of it, immediately starting to bite her neck and squeeze her where she likes to be squeezed, to distract her from what I’m about to do.

Swallowing roughly, I sneak a hand between us and I start using my thumb to rub her, excitement flooding me when I hear her breathing start getting heavy again.

Fuck. Is this actually happening?

Her smell in my nose and her taste in my mouth, I keep working her with my fingers, listening to her panting turning into moaning and feeling my dick start throbbing again.

There’s one long, delicious moment of this before my fox’s ears prick up.

The next thing I know, there’s a familiar voice calling, “Nyx.”

“Quick,” I hear her say, panic in her voice. I have to fight not to let out a frustrated groan as she squirms to get me off her. “That’s Hilde.”

No shit, I drawl to myself as I help get her down.

As usual, you can’t even get fifteen minutes alone with this girl.

But I keep my mouth shut, zipping my pants up, sliding my hands into my pockets and proceeding to watch the jumpy little rabbit struggle to get her elaborate dress in order.

“Need any help?” I ask, my mouth curling into a smile.

She shushes me, finishes fixing her corset and starts marching out of the grove, gesturing for me to follow.

And I do, but I first grab her ribbon off the ground. Fighting the urge to whistle, I fall into step with her just as she walks out from among the trees.

Still moving, I hold the ribbon out for her, but then I see Hilde walking straight at us, waving, and I slide my hand back into my pocket, concealing the incriminating little item.

I see Romanov wave back, throw a quick glance at her chest and let out a quiet little groan. “Where’s the fucking… Fuck.”

It makes me have to stifle a laugh just as we meet her cousin halfway.

“There you are,” Hilde says, but she doesn’t wait for a reply. She immediately turns to me. “Hi, Dahrian,” she says, sweetly, but there’s some kind of pause in her voice.

“Hello to you, too,” I say, unfazed, smiling and tipping my head in a greeting.

“What’re you two doing?” she asks, without hesitation but with a little frown now scrunching up her forehead.

“Oh,” Romanov jumps in, making me turn to see what she’ll come up with, “I was just showing Howe the spot where that gargoyle attacked that student, remember, our first year here?”

Would you look at that, I think as my mouth cracks into a smile.

“But that’s not the grove where it happened,” I hear Hilde say.

I don’t take my eyes off Romanov.

“What’re you talking about, Hilde?” she protests with a scoff. “I think I’d know.”

Such conviction, I think as my smile turns into a grin.

“So you’ve seen the marks on the trees?” Hilde asks just as I turn to her, finding her no longer looking so suspicious.

For a second, I just look at her. Then I clear my throat to suppress a laugh. “Of course,” I say, my voice coming out all collected and serious, “it was all so fascinating.” I let my eye dart to the jumpy little rabbit as I say, “I enjoyed the little lecture immensely.”

She subtly rolls her eyes at me, but her lips are tugging into a smile, which is the look she has on whenever she tells me I’m an idiot.

It makes me start getting hard again.

“No, it really is fascinating,” I hear Hilde say and I turn to look at her, but it’s proving to be hard not to hate her for interrupting.

“Yeah, he’s just being polite,” Romanov protests, making me snap out of it. “But we have to go, don’t we, Hilde?”

And she takes her cousin by the hand and moves to walk away, throwing me a look that’s telling me I better start making myself scarce.

“Yeah, Nikolay’s already left,” Hilde replies with a sigh as she lets herself be led away. “He had a little too much of that feywine.” She stops, throwing a glance over her shoulder, at me. “But we can’t leave Dahrian all alone out here.”

“I don’t think he needs a babysitter,” comes a cutting reply.

I blow a little laugh through my nose. “You two run along. Good night,” I say, tipping my head to the side a little to catch a certain rabbit’s eye. “And sweet dreams.”

“Night,” she says flatly.

“Bye, Dahrian,” Hilde says sweetly. “Sweet dreams to you, too.”

For a second, I just keep standing there, watching them start making their way across the gardens and back to Lilith Tower.

Then I turn on my heel, sliding the hand with the ribbon out of my pocket at the exact same moment I hear Hilde’s already distant voice say, “Nyx, where’s your bow?”

“Um, there was this branch… Nevermind. I just lost it.”

I keep strolling down the slope, snickering, my thumb stroking the smooth surface of the fabric between my fingers.

“You know what happened while you were gone?” I hear Hilde say, her voice getting fainter and fainter. “Remember that Annika girl, from Mind Magic Level One?”

Romanov says something, but I can no longer hear her.

Still smiling, I fix my eyes on the fires at the camp down below, I breathe in a lungful of crisp, winter air and I start whistling.

Of course, it’s at that exact moment that I hear him.

So that’s how it is now? he demands as he rises out of the shadows. She tells you ‘You’re an idiot’ and you start drooling like a fucking Pavlov dog?

I raise my eyebrows at him, but I remain unfazed. “And? More often than not,” I tell him as my mouth cracks into a lazy grin, “when she says it, I actually do get a treat. So can you blame me?”

It’s pathetic, he snaps at me. Makes me ashamed to be your animal.

“Oh fuck off,” I drawl with a self-satisfied laugh, “you’re just jealous. You want me to let you out so you can do your thing.”

Well, he insists, clearly butthurt, you’re not keeping the ribbon.

“Well,” I counter, “as you yourself ordered me, I’m not letting you anywhere near her.” My grin only growing wider and my voice more mocking, I tell him, “So sure, I’ll let you bitch about the ribbon however much you want.”

Hey, he warns, his own voice turning cold and threatening. You better watch it, boy.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I rush to say as I start approaching the plateau, realizing I really am acting like a jerk. I make myself snap out of it, clearing my throat. “I’ll behave. And of course I won’t keep the ribbon,” I add as I look down at it. “I’ll just hold onto it for her.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just squints at me suspiciously.

“I’m being serious,” I insist, making sure my voice matches the sentiment. “I told you she wouldn’t be a distraction and look, she’s not. She came, we had a little roll in the hay and now it’s back to the party.”

Look at you, he drawls. All smart all of a sudden.

“Well, I’m determined. We have the Third Game tomorrow, and I’m going to show you exactly how inconsequential all this really is.”

For a second, he stays silent. I sincerely hope so, he finally says, a little coldly, but clearly appeased.

***

The next morning, I find myself in the crowd with Ricky, leaving the Dame Gothel statue behind and seemingly going south. And despite the fact that the Third Game hasn’t even started yet, I’m feeling downright victorious. We only have ten players left, but they're strong ones, Aine with her wolf and Lorcan with his bear having proven to be real assets.

“Did you know there’ll be burgers after?” I ask my friend with a grin. “I was worried they’d be bringing out those fancy appetizers again.”

“Glad you can think about food right now,” my friend tells me, unease written clearly on his face. “I myself can’t be so sure I haven’t already had my last meal.”

“Come on,” I protest, glancing around to see we’re walking along the camp, “it’s not like you’re about to die. You’ll probably just get injured a little. Maybe lose a limb or two.”

It’s scandalized, the look he throws me.

It makes me let out a little laugh. But I quickly turn serious. “Hey,” I tell him with a pat on his back, “you’re stronger and more resourceful than you think.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “How come you’re with me?” he asks, frowning a little. “I got rid of my buddy ages ago, but I thought Nikolay was still yours.”

“Seems his mommy doesn’t want him to be,” I reply with an amused laugh.

“Oh well,” my friend says absently, “can’t please everyone. But maybe it’s for the best. So far, that family’s only meant trouble for you.”

I open my mouth to reply, but it’s just at that moment that I spot Romanov in the crowd, walking with her brother, clad in that tight little uniform.

I feel a rush of heady thrill as I let my eyes drag down her body. And I keep putting one foot in front of the other, but it’s all I can think about now. How would it be received, I wonder, if I sent her a text to meet me after the Game, telling her to wear it?

Or should I risk not ending up seeing her at all and try catching her at the party tonight? Little miss doesn’t seem to be that hung up on rules, I think with a smile as my mind rushes back to our little rendezvous in the grove last night.

After all, she didn’t even bother calling me out for that bullshit about it not being spontaneous at all.

Though there are some rules she seems adamant about sticking to.

No kissing on the mouth, for example.

And just as she disappears back into the crowd, I realize I could ask Ricky to educate me a little. He’d know, I’m sure of it.

Still walking along the camp, I turn back to him and I ask, “Coming to the party tonight?”

He shoots me a nasty look. “I can’t even think about eating, ever again,” he bitches, “and you’re asking me about a party?”

I have to stifle a laugh. “What if I help distract you a little?”

He throws me another look, still grumpy but intrigued.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say with a little laugh. “So it’s about the party tonight. I’m thinking of meeting up with this girl.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling down in confusion.

“Vampire girl,” I say, a little theatrically.

He shrugs. “So?”

“So,” I start, “I’ve never gotten one, but I did hear about a lil’ something called the vampire’s kiss.”

To my surprise, Ricky lets out a laugh.

I frown at him.

“I don’t think you’d want that,” he says, simply. “It’s not the type of thing I’d recommend doing if you’re not into anything serious.”

“Yeah?” I ask, now even more curious than I was a moment ago. “How so?”

He thinks for a second. “It’s, like…” He waves his hands around a little, searching for words. “You get bitten on the lip, you lick each other’s blood, and it makes you feel both your own and your partner’s pleasure. I’ve heard it’s, well,” he says with an awkward little laugh, “a heady thing.”

“Mm.” I don’t stop walking, but I’m practically holding my breath as I keep glancing at him, waiting for him to continue.

“But it creates a stronger emotional connection as well,” he explains. “That’s why vampires won’t do it with just anyone.” He lets out a little laugh. “There are even traditionalists who save it for their wedding night.”

“Interesting,” I say as my mind goes around in circles trying to picture what it would be like.

“Yeah,” I hear Ricky reply just as the crowd starts slowing down, “so maybe don’t do that.”

“Yeah,” I say. It’s just that, now, it’s all I can think about. That, and whether she’s one of the so-called traditionalists.

“But thanks, Dahrian,” my friend snaps me out of it as we come to a stop. He looks a lot less mortified. “This actually helped get me out of my head a little.”

I give him a smile and a clap on the back.

And I turn to look at where they’ve brought us.

What the…

We’re standing in front of the lake, one set of bleachers set up along the shore to our left and one to our right. Will this be the arena for today, I think as my eyebrows pull down.

“Will they actually be making us fight underwater?” I hear Ricky ask, concern in his voice. “Lycan have mercy on us.”

“That about sums it up,” I say, in the most serious voice of the day.

And sure, due to orders from the Boss, I was planning on avoiding shifting altogether. Still, I hoped to at least have the option.

But there’s no time for ruminating. The crowd is already parting to let us players through, and there’s the Archon, standing in front of the lake, her chair behind her, and holding the Box in her hands with a somber look on her face.

It’s too early to be so worried, my fox’s voice booms inside my head as I lead Ricky down the path, a couple of pairs of players behind Romanov and her brother. We still don’t know what the Box will come up with.

“Well, don’t blame me for not holding my hopes up,” I tell him.

Once we’re all lined up on the shore and my pack's buddies have all taken their leave, the Archon clears her throat and motions for the Pied Piper and Gleason — who's replaced her as our Academy's representative — to shake hands to activate the Box. Once they do, retreating to take their seats in the bleachers, she gets Hourglass out and flings it in the air.

The next thing I know, there’s an island rising out of the center of the lake and a bridge shooting out of it, producing a thunderous thud when it connects with the mainland.

Then, for a second, there’s only silence. I hold my breath as I watch Hourglass flip over and the sand start running.

I frown, my eyes darting left right, expecting creatures to populate either the island or the water.

Instead, I see the air above the lake get thick and the subsequent fog turn a menacing green shade.

My head snaps to the Archon, but she's already taken her seat, her back now turned to me and her eyes fixed on the lake in front of her.

And just like that, the players start moving. My eyes get drawn to Romanov, but she’s already walking with her eyes fixed on the lake.

I force myself to tear them away and start approaching the water myself.

***

For one long moment, we all keep standing at the shore, waiting in almost complete silence, only broken by a low murmur coming from the audience and the wind playing with the reefs.

Then one of the girls, a Grimm, takes a hesitant step towards the bridge and stops.

My eyes narrow.

For a second, she keeps standing there, then takes a step back.

But the next thing I know, another one of the Grimms walks over to her and gives her a shove that could hardly be called gentle.

And she flies forward, only regaining her balance once her feet are already on the bridge.

I suck in a breath.

But seconds pass and nothing happens.

I watch the girl throw a glance over her shoulder, a surprised smile on her lips. Then she just starts walking, down the bridge and straight for the island, slowly picking up the pace.

Still, nothing happens.

Holding my breath, I keep observing and I think I notice her start slowing down, but just as I see her walk a third of the bridge, she comes to a stop and bends over a little, as if she’s catching her breath.

Must be the fog, I think to myself. I don’t know how she didn’t realize it was way too soon to get her hopes up.

But what happens next still takes me by surprise. She stands straight and she keeps stumbling forward, but now her shoulders are shaking and her knees are giving out and she’s producing this quiet little sob, making me grit my teeth in anticipation.

Then she stops, abruptly, making my heart skip a beat. And she turns around and she starts trying to walk back, obviously struggling as the quiet little sob turns into a pained wail.

My fists clenching, I keep my eyes fixed on her. And the wail turns into a deeply unsettling scream and the next thing I know…

She stops, she flings herself off the bridge and comes crashing into the water.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then, the surface of the water being disturbed by some unseen fight, followed by streaks of blood lifting from down below.

Fuck, I curse with gritted teeth, even before there’s that flash of light where the girl fell through, meaning she’s been taken out of the Game.

But now… now everyone else seems to be getting a move on, including Romanov, her brother, the asshole prince and Ricky.

And some of them are leaping into the water and some wading into it, but they all seem to be choosing the underwater monsters instead of the unknown danger that is the bridge.

I watch Romanov start wading in, my mind buzzing as it tries to come up with as many possible scenarios.

It could be all manner of creatures, but for some reason…

I don’t think it’s anything other than what’s already been in there, all this time.

I agree, I hear my fox say in a tense voice. These have to be mermaids.

A shiver runs down my spine at the very thought.

I think you better try going over, my fox says.

And I can’t say I don’t agree. We’re not water creatures, my fox and I. And if it comes to it, we’ll get in, but if we don’t have to…

So instead of following the others, I walk up to the bridge, I take a deep breath and I start walking.

***

I literally feel it, when the fog starts seeping into my brain. Like neurons starting to fire in all the wrong ways.

All of a sudden, when I look up into the sky, I can’t figure out whether it’s daytime or nighttime. When I look down at my shoes, I can’t tell how far away they are from me. And when my mind scrambles for an explanation, of what I’m supposed to do, of where I even am, it finds…

Nothing. A big black hole of nothing.

And I think I’m still walking, but now there are these things coming at me. Like apparitions.

There’s a small boy, so small, it makes my heart ache, and he’s withering somehow, I can see it, but I can’t do anything about it.

Then there are these men, strange, evil men, and they have me in the palms of their hands and I know I’m going to lose because it’s written in the stars.

And then, then there's this girl, and she’s more like a ball of light, but if you saw her shadow, you’d see she has fangs and those fangs are about to rip into my throat and leave me lying on the ground, forever aching.

It’s all making me want to scream at the top of my lungs, my mind scrambling to find a way out of it.

And just as the terror reaches a point I don’t think I’ll be able to bear for long, I feel a light breeze on my skin and I find one thing to hold onto.

The water. There is the water below me and somehow I know it’ll make all this stop.

Desperate for relief, I move to throw myself into it.

But then there’s this snarl that seems to come from both within and outside me, of an animal that feels so familiar and strange at the same time.

And then there’s an image that makes me stop, of red mixing with blue-green, like blood with water.

So instead of jumping in, I sit down, I take a lungful of air and I let my body slide inside.

And just like that, the fog clears and I find myself underwater, my eyes adjusting to the near darkness and silence so total, it makes blood curdle in my veins.

***

Thanks to my fox, I don’t attract any attention. I just start swimming, slowly, scanning my surroundings and scrambling to remember all the things they told me about mermaids when I was a kid.

Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden movements. Check, I think to myself.

Try not to attract any attention at all. Probably won’t be possible.

If you do, swim for your life.

Now, that probably won’t get me any closer to finishing the Game. But there are no ways to deal with a mermaid underwater and get out alive.

So what the fuck am I supposed to do?

I turn my eyes upwards, at the shadow that is the bottom of the island. But it’ll take me a while to get there and if I just keep swimming…

Well, not like there’s anything else I can do right now. So I start moving.

But it’s at that exact moment that I see a shape start forming in the water ahead of me. It’s Romanov’s brother and he’s swimming in my direction, furiously and without spotting me.

He’s too busy trying to get away from a shadow darting around him.

My heart tightens in my chest when I see the shadow block his way, its back turned to me as the slow wagging of its enormous fish tail keeps it in place.

And it grabs him by the wrist and makes him open his mouth in a silent cry of pain as it slowly twists the arm into an unnatural position.

For a second, I just keep swimming in place, staring at the creature’s tangled hair falling down the scaly back and the muscled arm finishing in a clawed hand that’s gripping Nikolay’s wrist.

The next thing I know, it’s tilting its head, revealing its spiked teeth to me as it lowers them to his neck.

Fuck. But just as instinct pushes me to move to help, I see Nikolay grimace and the mermaid snatch her hand away, its body starting to jerk left right, as if it got broken somehow.

Mind Magic, it occurs to me. He’s trying to use Mind Magic on her.

Good, I think as I start swimming, making sure I’m leaving plenty of distance between myself and the ongoing fight.

And I keep heading straight for the island, making sure I never stop scanning my surroundings.

But it’s so dark and blurry, that I don’t realize where I’m headed until I’m literally entering the cave.

My heart skips a beat and I move to back the hell up, but there’s already a pair of eyes watching me from the darkness ahead.

The next thing I know, I’m being slammed back, the mermaid already hovering above me, its cold eyes boring into mine.

It makes all the muscles in my body tense up in preparation. Then I grab her by the arm and I swing her around, making her fly through the water and the hell away from me.

And I start kicking upwards like crazy, feeling myself starting to lose my breath.

Near the surface, to my left, I spot something, a man in a tattered uniform, Ricky, just floating in the water with a smile on his face, his eyes gently closing, despite a mermaid making its way to him.

But I can sense the creature I’d just fought off as she closes the distance again and I power through the last of the water separating me from the surface.

I escape the mermaid, but I find myself grabbing the edge of the bridge again.

And I pull myself out, gasping for air, and I hoist myself over and throw myself on my back, panting and feeling disoriented from all the light and the noises.

I know I don’t have a lot of time before the fog starts seeping into my brain again, so I turn my head to the shore, and there I see that a lot of the people are already out of the Game, including Nikolay.

But when I turn my head to the island, there’s Ricky, dragging himself out of the water.

The very next second, I hear the gong mark the first point being scored.

And it suddenly dawns on me, how my friend managed to win.

***

Drown, I need to start drowning, I think to myself as I start remembering what Ricky told me about mermaids.

So I slide myself back into the water and I let my eyes readjust to the near darkness, but then I simply keep floating there, trying to let go despite the overwhelming instinct not to.

But it’s at the very next moment that I think I spot Romanov being chased somewhere in the distance, by a shadow a lot like the one that attacked her brother and me.

And all of a sudden, my heart is pounding and I can’t force myself to stay where I am. I’m already powering through to where I spotted her just now.

It wasn’t her, I hear my fox growl at me.

“You can’t even smell her here,” I tell him, my teeth gritting as I keep pushing forward. “So how would you know?”

I have other ways of sensing her, he snaps back, and she’s not here.

But that only makes the dread stronger. If she’s not here and I haven’t seen her while I was up a second ago…

Where the fuck is she?

My jaw clenching, I keep propelling myself through water, but I should already have reached the spot where I saw her get attacked.

Frowning, I stop and I start looking around, the dread seeping straight into my bones now. Then I see one of the creatures.

And instead of moving away, I keep moving towards, slowly but with determination, as I scan its body for some fucking clue, fearing it might be a limb or something.

Of course, that only makes the creature spot me. And I’m too close for its comfort, so it starts charging at me like the water beast that it is.

And it grabs me by the neck, the claws sinking in, and it starts shaking me like I’m a rag doll, making me kick my legs and struggle for air as I try to pry its claws away from my throat.

But the grip only tightens. And for a second, I think I’m going to die.

Then I make all my muscles tense up, I swing my right arm back and I slam a fist into the creature’s ribs.

It snatches the hand away, making me have to fight not to gasp for air.

And as it’s still bent from the blow, I move to attack, the mermaid’s eyes darting up to mine.

I stop, the gaze making me snap out of my rage.

And I lower my hand and I shake my head, waving my hands for no. And I just keep floating there, closing my eyes against my better judgment.

The creature doesn’t move, but it only takes a couple of seconds for me to start really struggling not to start breathing.

And another couple of seconds for me to take a sharp breath and swallow a mouthful of water, starting to choke, my entire body in pain.

Then, there’s a moment of lightheadedness that seems dangerously… easy.

And the next thing I know, I’m being pushed out of the water and onto the shore.

When I come to, coughing and spewing water, I look up and onto the island above me. I hear the gong marking my finishing the Game and all my body wants to do is crash, but my eyes are already fixing on the shore, trying to see whether she’s there despite knowing it’s too far away.

Then the Box zaps me out, making me land in the bleachers. For a second, as usual, it feels as if I’m going to lose my balance, but I quickly regain my footing.

And I look around, finding myself among the other winners, some of them standing, some of them sprawled on the benches, recovering.

And there she is, alive and well, chatting with some girl I don’t know.

For a second, our eyes meet and she seems hesitant, but she throws me a smile and then turns her attention back onto her friend.

Makes me feel like a fucking idiot, causing all that drama down there. Especially when I see how carefree she was while I was still in the Game.

But then I sense Ricky walk up to me and I turn to look at him, clapping him on the back. “Congratulations, mate,” I tell him with a smile.

And he throws me such a wide grin and we turn to keep watching the Game in silence, but my dissatisfaction doesn’t dissipate. And I can sense my fox feeling the same.

I take a deep breath and decide to confront him. “Come on, let’s hear it,” I tell him, “that ‘told you so’ that’s on the tip of your tongue.”

For a second, he stays silent. Told you so? he echoes with a fake little frown. And his voice is all feigned surprise and earnestness when he keeps going. No, I mean… I just assessed the situation, predicted how it would end, informed you about my findings, all of them and in time, and am now enjoying seeing it unravel just the way I thought it would.

It makes me have to fight not to roll my eyes. “In other words, told you so.”

How clever you can be, he snaps. Pity you never are when it actually matters.

He pauses for a second before he turns serious, for real, and asks, So, now will you stop seeing the girl?

I almost let out a scoff. “Stop seeing her?” I ask with a frown. “Like altogether? Why would I do that?”

I can sense he’s not happy with the direction I’m taking. And I understand I failed to deliver on my promise from last night.

So it’s in an apologetic voice that I say, “Look, I admit it, okay? She’s become a bit of a distraction. But it’s nothing that can’t be easily fixed.”

Yeah?

“Yeah,” I reply with determination in my voice. “I guess it would’ve been better,” I concede, carefully, “if I’d listened to her from the start and made sure I followed all her little rules. So from now on, I’ll be doing exactly that, keeping the conversation to a minimum and refraining from seeing her outside our little sessions.”

Sure, he drawls. And that way, you’ll be more focused than ever, right?

I ignore the snarky way he says it. “Exactly,” I reply, with even greater determination than a minute ago.

Fine, let’s do it your way, he says, that’s always worked out well for us.

But the very next moment, I hear the sand run out and the rest of the players get zapped out, marking the end of the Game and making the crowd go wild.

To my surprise, we finish at nine to eight in Grimms' favor.

Which puts us in a much better position for the Fourth Game, which I know will be held on May 21st.

And that’s many weeks from now, weeks and weeks of enjoying my time here, especially now that there’s no shit going down, we’re doing good, and I’m getting my focus back.

Chapter 23 - Nyx

The bright May sun is making the treetops above me glisten like they were taken from some other, more romantic time. I’m lying on my back with my knees bent, listening to Hilde flipping pages of her latest thriller obsession, while my brother and Ricky are playing with an authentic sixteenth-century crossbow that General Alaric gave Nikolay for his name day. And I’m finding it hard to keep myself from daydreaming.

The grass I’m brushing with my fingers is so delicate…

The noises in the gardens so relaxing…

The breeze caressing my bare legs so warm…

And there are other groups of students wasting time in the gardens on this lovely day, but it’s only when I spot a group of Fiáins coming to join a group of ours that my focus gets drawn away from the splendor of nature around me.

I don’t lift my head off the ground, but I do hold my breath as I observe them.

Then I see them give each other pats on their shoulders, I hear laughter booming and I feel my muscles relax.

The Fourth Game is scheduled for May 21st, which is the day after tomorrow. But the past two weeks, there's been more tension between the Academies. And it’s just little fights breaking out here and there, but it’s still making me anxious.

And it’s also making me wonder… Could it have anything to do with Dahrian not being here? It seems like too big of a coincidence, that it all started going downhill practically the moment he disappeared.

It almost makes me think he’s the one keeping this whole thing from falling apart.

“Who would’ve thought this would be so much fun?” I hear Ricky say right after I hear another arrow hit the target they’re practicing on.

It makes me snap out of it. No, I tell myself, I won’t be doing this again, I won’t be thinking about him. So I remind myself of the decision I made when he left, the decision to welcome the interruption in our little arrangement and get my life back on track.

Which means trying to solve the puzzle that is Vasilisa, I think with a sigh. I pull a blade of grass from the ground and I twirl it in my fingers.

Ever since my birthday, I’ve been going to her at least once a week, trying to get information out of her. But ever since she ordered me to keep an eye on the Archon and basically told me I’m stupid and spineless… She’s been awfully quiet.

There seems to be no question she’s willing to answer, which makes me want to know the answers even more badly.

It snaps me out of it, when Ricky says to Nikolay, “Hold on a second,” and the very next second, I hear faint arguing coming from the direction of the Grimms and the Fiáins forming one large group.

I prop myself on my elbows and I turn to see what’s going on. And they’re only arguing, still splayed out on the couple of stone benches near the Dame Gothel courtyard.

My eyes snap to Ricky, who’s just putting his phone back in his pocket, looking a little less care-free than he did a minute ago. But then he throws a smile at my brother and the two of them resume their little crossbow session.

Still, I find myself unable to return to my ruminations, so I turn my eyes back onto the discussion near Dame Gothel.

For a while, I just keep looking at them, fighting the urge to use my vampiric hearing to eavesdrop.

And just as I’m about to lie back down, one of the Grimms springs from his bench and then one of the Fiáins does the same.

All of a sudden, they’re getting in each other’s faces, the shouting growing louder and making Hilde look up from her book. “What’s going on?” she asks, tension in her voice.

I don’t reply, I just keep watching. Fuck. Should I do something?

But it’s at that same time that Hilde nudges me and says, “Look, Nyx, there’s Dahrian. He’s back.”

My heart skips a beat and my eyes dart to His Hotness walking straight to the circle, the O’Malley brothers tailing him. “So it would seem,” I say.

And I watch him, intently, as he walks into the circle and starts greeting people with this grin on his face.

It makes me frown, observing the whole thing, but within half a minute, everyone’s back to relaxed chatting, and it almost looks as if nothing bad had been brewing.

I snap out of it as soon as I see Dahrian saying bye to everyone and start walking back to camp. I quickly lie back on the ground, so as not to be seen watching, going back to brushing the grass with my fingers with my knees pulled up.

And I’m already relaxing, thinking this will be it, when I hear Hilde call out, “Hi, Dahrian.”

Frowning, I look up and I see her waving. Furiously.

I can’t help but turn my head to the side, resting my left cheek on the ground as I watch Dahrian slow down a little, his hands in his pockets. And his eyes land on Hilde first, but then they find mine and they linger. I don’t look away, but I don’t nod either, I just keep brushing the grass with my fingers.

He breaks eye contact. “Hey there, Hilde,” his voice booms, making my heart tighten in my chest. Then he gives us all a wave, his gaze darting to mine. “And the rest of you rude people.”

“Ah, Howe, didn’t see you there, buddy,” I hear my brother say as Ricky and him stop playing with the crossbow, but I don’t take my eyes away from His Hotness.

Dahrian glances at him and he gives a little smile, but then he looks back at me and he keeps walking, but for a second, his eyes drag up and down my legs, making my breath hitch.

The next thing I know, he’s disappearing in the direction of the camp, and I feel Hilde’s eyes on me.

I don’t get up, but I turn to look at her. She’s staring at me with her fists pressed to her mouth, looking as if she’s suppressing a giggle. “What?” I ask with a little frown.

She lowers her hands to the ground. “He knows my name?” she breathes out, a huge grin forming on her face.

For a second, I just blink at her. Then I sit up. “Oh for crying out loud,” I say with a roll of my eyes, “did you honestly think he didn’t?”

I hear a ping sound from my phone, but I just keep looking at my cousin.

She frowns a little, but then she lets out this awkward little laugh and says, “Men don’t really pay any attention to me.”

Now that annoys me. “What about that O’Malley guy? You mean to say I didn’t see him chatting you up at the party before the Third Game?”

“You noticed?” she asks, a frown creasing her forehead again. Then she shakes her head. “No, he was only being polite. You’re reading into it.”

“Fine, maybe,” I reply. “But maybe you’re not reading into it enough. Right now, I could start listing guys I’ve seen ogling you and never stop. But you never seem to notice.”

She lets out a little laugh. “Watch it, Nyx, I might start thinking you care.”

“It’s annoying, Hilde,” I insist, “the way you demean yourself for no reason whatsoever. There are plenty of men out there who’d kill to get under those pants.”

Now that seems to render her speechless. She doesn’t say anything, she just frowns at me.

Not waiting for her to say anything, I let out a scoff and I whip my phone out to see what that ping was about.

“I want those legs on my shoulders,” the text says.

Sender? Howe.

I press my lips tight, my heart starting to race. “Good to see you, too,” I type, sensing Hilde going back to her book.

“You know what would make it even better?”

I roll my eyes, but I also smile. “I’ll take a wild guess,” I reply. “My legs on your shoulders?”

“Bingo. Such a clever girl you are. I want you in F12 in ten.”

And my eyes keep darting to that ‘want you’, my skin flushing.

But I hesitate. And not because it’s something we don’t do. Ever since my birthday, that is, which is basically the day the rule about spontaneous meetups went out the window. Since then, we’ve mostly managed to stick to abandoned classrooms, but we’ve been meeting up to fuck at barely more than a moment’s notice. On the lake shore at one of his parties. In a broom closet after a mandatory fire drill. In a bathroom while the others were eating lunch, thinking we’d gone to get them all more sodas from the kitchens.

And the sex is… Every time we meet, it gets a little more impossible for me to stop him from trying to get a second round. Sometimes, it plain doesn’t work at all. I get so lost in it all that I find his head between my legs long after he’d finished. And then I get self-conscious again and it’s over, but until that moment…

Still, now that it’s been two whole weeks since we last did it… There’s this reluctance in me to start it back up again.

“So?” he asks.

“I’m busy now,” I finally reply.

“Time and place then, please and thank you.”

Frowning, I drop my phone to the ground and lower myself back into a lying position. I haven’t let myself repeat the mistake from my birthday, obsessing about whether he has anyone else at the moment. I’ve told myself it’s not something I should even be thinking about and, well, I haven’t been.

But I’ve never really stopped noticing it, how little he reveals of himself.

And how infuriatingly confusing he can be. I mean, he makes it seem as if he wants to know every little thing about me, mind-numbingly boring stuff I never tell anyone because, well, who’d give a shit?

And I fucking tell him, even the things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I mean, there’s so much private shit he knows about me, my family, my hopes and dreams...

But whenever I ask him something, it’s all vague answers or deflective jokes or attempts at getting me riled up.

So, of course, his answer to where he was going was… “Wouldn’t you like to know?” followed by a bite to my neck.

It makes me blow out a frustrated breath, just thinking about it.

But I got my answer from Ricky, at least half of it, when once, in passing, he said to some Grimm that ‘Boss’ had to go home for a bit.

Ricky, I think as I keep brushing the grass with my fingers. Ricky could give me all the answers, right?

No, I warn myself. Won’t be thinking about it. I pull another blade of grass from the ground and I lift it up to my legs.

I stroke the skin with its tip, imagining actually putting my legs on his shoulders. And it makes a pang of desire shoot through me, making me bite my lip.

I take my phone off the ground, I sit up and I type, “F12 at midnight.”

I exhale, put the phone down and fix my eyes on my brother and Ricky still taking turns on the crossbow. Nikolay shoots and hits the bull’s eye.

Ricky comes to take the weapon and claps him on the back. “If you wanted to,” he asks as he turns to him, “could you use Mind Magic to make someone take a shot that’s just as precise as that?”

“Yeah,” my brother starts, beaming, “once I’m inside someone’s head.”

Then he turns serious, running his hand through his hair as Ricky waits for an answer. “It’s just…”

Letting out a nervous laugh, he hesitates for a second. Ricky nudges him to go on.

“I can’t always do it, you know. It takes a certain mindset, worming your way into someone else’s consciousness. Sometimes, I can’t just snap my fingers and get there.”

Wow, he’s not just bragging. He’s telling his new friend the truth as well. Must be a budding love, I think to myself with a smile.

“Well,” Ricky says as he adjusts the crossbow for shooting, “I actually think I could help you with that. I know I’m a shifter, but I’m interested in all Magic and I know quite a bit about the kind of problems you’re experiencing.”

And he takes his shot, the arrow landing far from the target.

“Really?” my brother beams at him.

Until his phone starts ringing and he rummages through his pocket, saying, “Sorry, Ricky, my man, gotta take this.”

“Sure,” Ricky says, lays the crossbow on the ground and walks up to the two of us. “Why don’t we go have lunch?”

“I’m ravenous,” I hear Hilde say as she starts getting up.

Ricky turns to me, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer,” I say with a smile.

“Suit yourself,” he hums and the two of them wave and start making their way back to the castle.

It’s almost at the very same moment that I hear Nikolay finish his conversation and see him rush over to me.

***

He’s throwing me such a wide grin, it makes me smile as well. I look up at him, raising my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, actually feeling a little thrill as I ask, “What is it?”

He comes into a crouch next to me. “Remember that idea you gave me, sis,” he asks in a low, excited voice, “about becoming an investor?”

That makes me let out a little laugh. “Wasn’t mine, but sure.”

“Well,” he drawls teasingly, “turns out it was a really stupid suggestion.” I roll my eyes at him. “Do you know how incredibly boring that work is? And it goes on and on and on.”

“Okay, Nikolay,” I snap at him a little, but there’s still a smile on my face. “Will you just spit it out, please.”

He pauses for a second, looking deeper into my eyes as he wiggles his eyebrows at me. “The land sale. I’ve managed to save it, sis.”

For a second, I just look at him. “What?” I ask as I sit up straight.

“Yeah,” he continues with a smile, oblivious to the sobering tone of my voice. “So there you have it. I’ll be fixing things for the family after all.”

I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. “Were there actual papers signed, Nikolay?” I ask in my most serious voice. “Did you have a lawyer present?”

He frowns. “No, it’s not at that stage yet.” He pauses for a second before he adds, in a much less cheerful voice, “And Max told me he’d recommend someone.”

“Max?” I snap.

“Yeah, well,” he says, starting to avoid my eyes. He doesn’t sound so happy with himself when he explains, “I got a little help from him. No big deal.”

“What kind of help?” I ask, this sense of unease spreading through my entire body.

“He found new buyers for me,” he snaps as he frowns at me. “Bloody hell. What does it even matter? As long as we’re selling.”

And he looks away, his face flushing and his teeth gritting.

But it’s making me so mad, that they’d sooner ask my ex fucking fiance for help than believe me when I say I’ll fix it.

And since we’re no longer engaged, I know Max isn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart. After all, when it came to business, he was taught to think like a businessman.

“What did he ask for in return?” I demand as I grab my brother’s forearm and make him look at me again. “What did you promise him?”

He breaks his arm free and just looks at me for a second. “What did I promise him?” There’s bitterness in his voice when he asks, “Why do you keep doing this?”

I blink at him. “Doing what?”

He doesn’t say anything. He just grits his teeth some more.

“Look, Nick,” I tell him, deciding to be upfront. “It’s just dumb.” I angrily wave my hand in no direction in particular. “I told you I got Mother off my back.”

I don’t tell him about my own investigations into different types of investments. I just say, “She promised she’d give me until the end of the school year to make up my mind about the engagement and I was going to—”

“I don’t care what you were going to,” he hisses at me, putting one hand on the ground so he can get in my face. “And I don’t care who you’ll marry, Max or a bunch of bloody cats. And I don’t care how good you are in whatever you do.” Only growing more upset, he throws a warning finger at me. “You’ll stop acting as if I’m not the man of the house and you’ll shut up about the bloody land and you’ll let me take care of it.”

With that, he pushes himself off the ground and moves to walk away.

“Nikolay,” I call after him, pissed-off, but trying to keep my voice down.

“And the day after tomorrow,” he orders, as he throws a look over his shoulder, “you’ll take it down a notch.”

He’s talking about the Fourth Game. And the look he’s giving me… The look is so painfully familiar.

Fuming, I kick myself off the ground and rush after him. “Oh, so it’s not me using Blood Magic that’s the problem?” I demand as I follow him, my eyes fixed on the back of his head. “Just me winning, huh?”

But he doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even look at me. I stop and he just keeps walking, leaving me standing there, wanting to pull all my fucking hair out.

***

By the time I’m in the portrait room, I’m not mad, I’m seething. And I know by now that Vasilisa was only able to use Mind Magic on me that time because she’d practically just had a lick of my blood, but she’s still here, aware of everything that’s going on in front of her. And I really need to stop this thing with my brother from really getting to me and just move on, but somehow, I can’t.

I can’t get his look out of my head.

So I sit on the cold stone floor and just sit there, frowning and wondering about this tightness in my chest, one that feels impossible and at the same time so familiar.

It makes me think of Father’s death for some reason, something I haven’t let myself think about for a really long time. And with that always come images of bloody bandages, syringes and people whispering as they gather around him, the great patriarch of the family.

But the great patriarch of the family had the same thing his brother Aleksei had. It’s the main reason I learned so early to brew the perfect blood purification potion. Because some vampire blood infections work similarly to human hemophilia, making every single cut into a danger of bleeding out. And the only thing that works against it is a perfect blood purification potion.

To an extent, of course, as I learned over the years, watching Father slowly get weaker and weaker.

But just thinking about it makes me feel so sick and so eager to stop going in that direction. And why am I even thinking about that all of a sudden? After all, it’s one of those memories that have successfully flung me into a depression spiral many times so far and I never know when they might do it again.

Still, there’s the look flickering before my eyes, forcing me back into wondering why I’m so troubled by it.

With bitterness in my mouth, I decide to snap out of it and proceed to do what I came here to do in the first place.

“Vasilisa,” I call out as I fold my legs under myself, sit up straighter and fix my eyes on the portrait.

And as always, Lady X disappears and Vasilisa appears, right in front of me, with the habitual smirk on her face.

“Yes, little great-great-granddaughter?” she drawls sweetly as she comes to lean next to the painting, her arms folded and one knee bent, the boot on the wall. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got for me today.”

And here we go again, I think with a sigh. First my questions, which she won’t answer, then her questions, which I won’t answer. And round and round we go in this delightful little dance.

But what am I supposed to do? Not come ask my great-great-grandmother the former Queen questions about her, what happened in the mysterious war she seems to have participated in, and how she ended up disappearing from history books and residing in a portrait?

“What was your maiden name?” I ask, running out of good questions to ask her.

“None of your business,” come the same four words as always, coupled with the smirk.

It’s not that she doesn’t want me to ask, I think for the millionth time. It’s obvious she likes the attention. She just doesn’t want to give the answers.

“Who was your Master of Ceremony?” I ask.

“None of your business.”

“Why won’t you talk to me about any of it?” I demand, but flatly. I’m still dying to know, it’s just that the novelty has worn off. “Why won’t you give me any answers?”

“None of your business.”

And she steps away from the wall, coming into a low crouch in front of me. “My turn,” she says, flashing her fangs. Deliberately.

But I’m no longer scared of her. “Fine,” I say.

“Any news?”

She’s referring to the Archon, of course. It’s the only question I always do give the answer to, just because it’s not leverage that’s in question, it’s a potential danger I need to keep an eye on.

“No,” I say, “and honestly, I’ve done all the background checks that I could. The woman’s as clean as a whistle. And there seems to be nothing suspicious going on.”

“Good,” she says and, to my surprise, she sits on the floor opposite me, mirroring my position. “So?”

Now, the question here is, “How did my dynasty come to this? Was it the Unveiling that was to blame?”

And usually, I refuse to tell her anything. But right now, looking into those cold, strange eyes as she just keeps sitting on the floor with me, I feel this need to give her something.

“I have a feeling you won’t like the answer.”

“Spit it out.”

“Well, no,” I start, seeing a flash of surprise in her eyes. I take a second to look for the right words. “It’s not true. We didn’t lose control of the land because of the Unveiling. After the initial hiccups, for a while, things actually went pretty smoothly.”

She quirks an eyebrow.

“When they learned what we really are,” I explain, “the Scions feared us more than ever, but the family actually did make sure the vampires across the land respected the Treaty, so they eventually accepted us as superior to them and they just let us do our thing.”

“Until?” she demands.

“Until great-grandfather Nikolay, I guess.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing,” I say with a sigh. “That’s the problem. He was weak and he let his government keep taking advantage of the people until the people rebelled.”

At that, she looks away, pensively. “Children,” she says, this bitterness in her voice.

For a second, I just look at her. But then it pops into my head, the way she spoke about my generation. And it occurs to me, a way to get her to talk, and it makes my blood rush around a little.

“Yeah, children,” I echo, trying to match her tone.

And I hesitate a little, but then I force myself to ask, “But I mean, it was easier in your day, right?” I make a point of drawling the following words, “So much less complicated.”

It works like a fucking charm. I watch her push herself off the floor, come to tower over me and shoot me such a nasty look. “What’re you even talking about, girl?”

I get up as well, glad she’s reacting in whatever way, but still a little anxious.

“You wouldn’t know complicated if it bit you on the fucking neck. You know who my ancestor was?” she demands.

I shake my head for no.

“Vasilisa the Wise herself,” she drawls, getting more worked up by the second. “And I don’t mean the Vasilisa you know about.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling down.

She lets out an angry yet amused laugh. “Little girl with a doll running to Baba Yaga so her evil stepmother and stepsisters wouldn’t freeze to death? Returning with fire in random skulls?”

She scoffs. “Come on.”

It only makes my frown grow deeper, but she’s not waiting for a reaction.

She’s getting in my face, continuing through gritted teeth and with fire in her eyes, “How about a queen, with impeccable instinct, who went to war with hostile neighboring lands, unleashed tremendous power within herself and returned with her enemies' heads in her bags?”

What the…

“That’s who I’m descended from,” she concludes with a sharp nod. Then she lets out a bitter little scoff. “And still, all they wanted me to do was lounge around drawing rooms, doing nothing all day long.”

She throws me a disgusted little look. “While you, you get to go to the fucking Academy, the one I practically built for you, and you dare bitch about it all being complicated?”

But my mind doesn’t linger on her words, it lingers on the look she threw me. And how similar it felt to the one I came here all mad about.

“I guess we’re done for today,” I finally say. And without another word, I turn on my heel and grab the doorknob.

“I guess we are,” I hear her spit out as I open the door and walk out, slamming it behind me.

And as I walk over to one of the rookery windows, I guess there’s a part of me wondering why my reaction to this isn’t stronger.

But then there’s a part of me that knows very well why it isn’t.

Because there’s another memory that’s surfacing, one that has never surfaced before, simply because I never let it.

In it, I’m fifteen and I’m in the Cathedral, standing by Father’s coffin with the rest of the family, sobbing inconsolably. And there’s this moment where they come, some people I never fully register, and they want to take him away. And I move to throw myself onto the coffin to stop them, when I feel a sharp tug at my waist and I find an arm wrapping itself around me, pulling me back into line with the others.

And I feel her come to stand next to me. My mother.

It surprises me, but it also makes me feel warm around the heart. And I turn to look at her, my face all sticky with tears, but the expression that I find on hers makes the warmth turn into ice.

“Anastasya,” she whispers through gritted teeth, “for crying out loud. Won’t you take it down a notch?”

And the look in her eyes, it’s the same look, or the same sort of look my brother gave me today, the look telling me I’m a burden, the look telling me I’m simply too much, whatever I do and however I do it.

But now, it’s no longer making me angry. It’s simply making me feel… all alone.

***

It’s already dark out but it’s not until midnight that I have the rendezvous. So I decide to stop moping around my room and leave for the Common Room with a book in my hand.

Lost in thoughts, I start walking down the stairs, but I only reach one of the first landings when I hear a familiar voice call, “Nyx.”

My head snaps to my right and I see Ricky walking out of my brother’s room, seemingly a little tipsy.

“Hi, Ricky,” I say, I make myself throw him the warmest smile I can and I turn to walk away, not really in the mood for socializing.

But before I can do it, he catches my eye once again and asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, but I don’t start walking again. I come to a full stop and I frown instead. “He told you about our fight, didn’t he?”

Ricky runs his hand through his hair. “Nothing too specific,” he replies with a nervous laugh, “if there’s some secret you’re worried about.”

“Wow,” I snap, “he should wear that as a badge of honor.”

And I turn on my heel, but almost as soon as I do, Ricky comes to block my way.

“Look, Nyx,” he tells me with fire in his eyes, “he’s a good guy and you’re a good girl. You go to this amazing Academy, you come from such a powerful family, and you have your whole lives ahead of you.” He pauses a little, his passion making my eyebrows shoot up. “I know for a fact that your brother and yourself will get exactly what you want in the end and only grow closer along the way.”

I take the smallest step back, my eyebrows pulling down.

Ricky seems to catch that. “Oh,” he says awkwardly, “I see that I’m overstepping. I apologize for that.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not used to alcohol, you see. In fact, until a year ago, I’d never had a single drop.”

“You’re kidding me,” I blurt out, a smile now tugging at my lips.

“No no, I really was that lame.”

This time, we both laugh. I move to keep walking, but make it clear I’m open to him walking with me. He does.

“And you weren’t overstepping,” I say as we start going down the stairs together, “just so you know. That was just me being… me, I guess. I’m actually grateful to you for asking if I’m okay.”

“Well,” he starts, a little hesitantly, “if you ever want to thank me…”

I turn to raise my eyebrows at him.

He gives me a little smile and says, “Shoot me a text when you have some free time. I’ve a question I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

I let out a laugh. “Well, you’ve got my attention now.”

And it’s at that exact moment that we land in the nearly empty Common Room and I motion at one of the nearby tables.

He throws me a grin and we go to take a seat. I lift a finger to ask for patience, and I pour us each a drink from the bottle on the shelf below the table.

And all the while, my mind is buzzing with the questions I could be asking him. But I make myself stop thinking about it. It just wouldn’t be right.

“Go,” I say as soon as we clink glasses and take a sip.

“Okay,” he starts, already getting excited, “so, I already asked your brother this exact same question, but I’d like to hear from you as well.”

“Come on, out with it.”

“Yes,” he says with a nod and a laugh. “So…” And he leans forward a little. “Do you feel any… special connection with the Romanov whose name you’ve been given? Or any connection at all?”

Now, that makes me frown. “Um, Anastasya Nikolayevna?” I let out a laugh. “I’d have more luck establishing a connection with Rasputin himself.”

He frowns.

“Lame attempt at a joke at my own expense,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Doesn’t matter. In all seriousness, no,” I reply. “I mean, there are pictures of her all over our estates, but all I ever heard about her was…” I shrug my shoulders. “She was just a girl.”

“Hm,” he says pensively. “Pity.”

“Why?”

He just looks at me for a second. “You know how there’s power in a name?” he finally asks, dropping his voice at the same time he ups the enthusiasm. “Some ancient magic perhaps.”

Interesting, I think to myself, my mind rushing straight to Vasilisa. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, making me lean a little forward in anticipation. “I’ve just been doing some research and toying with the idea of there being more to that. Like…” He pauses, looking away as he thinks. “What if there was power in sharing a name with someone as well?”

“Interesting,” I say in a voice that’s barely above a whisper. “Like, being able to communicate? Or transfer power?”

“Exactly,” he replies with a smile and that spark in his eye. Then he frowns. “And there’d have to be a blood bond, probably, but yeah, things like that.”

I lean back in my chair. “Well,” I tell him, “if you ever figure it out…”

He raises his drink to me, throws it back and sets the glass down, starting to get up.

And it all comes so abruptly, the whole situation and the way I’m feeling making me fail to resist my base urges.

“You know, Ricky,” I say, making him look at me and lower himself back into the chair, smiling.

“I really admire the way you find time for all your interests,” I continue, albeit a little hesitantly, “especially being an alpha’s right hand.”

“Well,” he says with a grin.

“How come you didn’t go with him?” I dare to ask.

To my misfortune, the question earns me a frown. “He didn’t need me, I guess,” he says, but not a little suspiciously.

Fuck. But then it occurs to me and I don’t waste a moment second-guessing it. “You know what I just remembered?” I say, making his eyebrows shoot up.

I don’t give him a chance to protest. I just get up, walk over to the bar and grab a bottle of Feinmann’s whiskey. “Look what we have here,” I tell him as I come to hold it out for him.

For a second, he just stares at the label. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he almost yells out as he takes the bottle.

I get back into my chair, smiling.

Ricky keeps turning the thing in his hands. “I can’t find this anywhere and I’ve always wanted to taste it,” he says as he looks up at me.

“I know,” I reply softly. “I had it ordered for you. But how are you so hung up on it if you’ve never even tried it?”

“I remember it from when I was a kid,” he says, still smiling but a little pensively. “My parents used to bring it out after dinner and get all tipsy, but I wasn’t allowed to have any and I remember that making me want to try even more.”

Parents? I thought he didn’t have any family.

He apparently catches the confusion in my eyes because the next thing he says is, “I was five when they were all killed.”

“Shit,” I blurt out. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says with a sad little smile and a wave of his hand. And he opens the bottle and takes a sip straight from it, wincing as he swallows. “I had those five years with them, and afterwards, well, I had my books—”

It’s a fit of coughing that interrupts him. “In the name of Lycan,” he squeezes out, “this is strong.”

And when he locks eyes with me again, he already seems quite a bit tipsier than a second ago.

I don’t waste time. “And Howe,” I say, finishing his sentence. “I mean, you weren’t alone, you had him, and he seems like a good friend.”

“Howe?” he echoes with a frown.

And for a second, I think it didn’t work, my little plan to loosen his tongue.

But then he lets out a little laugh. “No,” he starts, his speech a little slurred now, “me and Howe only started hanging out, like…” He waves his hand, looking away and into the distance, as if trying to remember. “Two years ago. No, less. At the start of our third year.”

Now that makes me quirk an eyebrow. “Really?” I ask.

“Yeah, I mean,” Ricky keeps going, his forearms sliding down the table a little, “I’ve always known him, but while we were growing up, my caretaker…” He waves his hand again. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, we weren’t really allowed to spend any time together.”

Frowning, I lean a little forward. “Was it your family’s… declining status?”

He raises his eyebrows at me, his body swaying a little, almost imperceptibly. “You mean, his family’s.”

I shake my head a little, my lips curling into a hesitant smile. “But he’s the alpha and the son of a powerful matriarch, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ricky replies as a frown starts creasing his forehead, “but he never had a father and his mother was a little unorthodox.”

He lets out a little burp. I don’t say anything. I’m practically holding my breath, just waiting for him to keep talking.

He does. “Sorry about that,” he says with an awkward little laugh. “Anyway, then his mother died and that made things…” He frowns again. “Well, it made things bad. And somehow…”

He shakes his head, the incredulous look in his eyes making me want to yell at him to keep going. “I guess people were angry and scared,” he finally says, this sadness in his voice as he turns his unfocused eyes onto the surface of the table, “and they just turned their backs on her family, blaming her for everything that happened. So for a good while, they were on their own, Dahrian and his brothers.”

For one long moment, I find myself at a loss for words. My voice is barely above a whisper when I finally say, “Wow, that’s brutal.”

Ricky looks up. “Yeah,” he says with a shake of his head, “it’s a brutal world we live in.”

And I know I should stop, but one more. Just one more question.

“So that’s what brought the two of you together?” I ask. “Being without parents and stuff. I mean, you seem so much closer than I’d expect from a two-year-long friendship.”

He lets out a little laugh. “I guess we do,” he slurs, “and sure, the family stuff plays a part as well…” Then he shakes his head, thinking. “But no, none of it would’ve happened if it weren’t for Dahrian’s ex.”

It feels like a slap across the face. “His ex?” I echo.

“Yeah,” he says with a nod, still out of it but turning more serious by the second, “the first time we got to talking, they’d just broken up and, well, Dahrian was not in a good place, to say the least.”

For a second, I just look at him, struggling to keep myself from showing emotions. “Why?” I finally ask, my voice coming out a little choked-up despite all the effort. “Was it some great love?”

Ricky lets out a loud sigh. “He doesn’t like talking about it. All I know is, Aisling cheated on him with his best friend and he wasn’t the same person after that.”

What the…

“And I do understand things don’t always make sense…” He pauses to lock eyes with me, fighting to keep his open. “But it somehow still keeps me puzzled, that something like that would happen to a guy like him. You know?”

“Yeah,” I say, without even having registered the question. “Definitely.”

What snaps me out of it is Ricky lifting the bottle to take another sip and missing his mouth.

“Um, Ricky,” I say as I take it away from him. “I think that maybe you’ve had enough of that.”

My words snap him out of it enough to throw me a smile and say, “Well, Nyx, I think you’re right.”

He gets up and he gives me a smile and a wave before he turns on his heel.

And I do feel vaguely guilty and ashamed of myself, watching him stumble out of the Common Room, but my mind almost immediately goes back to Dahrian.

I go to throw myself back into the chair, my eyebrows pulled down and this restlessness driving me crazy.

Dahrian and Aisling, I start repeating to myself, the name Aisling so grating to me, it makes me grit my fucking teeth.

Serves me right, I curse at myself. I wanted to make him less of a mystery and ended up knowing a lot more than I really wanted to know.

And now I’ll have fucking Aisling running marathons in my head for days.

Then the clock strikes fifteen to midnight, I realize I’ll soon have to start making my way to F12, and my restlessness…

It births an idea that makes me wonder if I’m going crazy.

But the urge is too strong. It overwhelms me and I immediately whip out my phone and pull up the chat with Dahrian.

“F12 at midnight,” my last message reads.

I find myself having to beat around the bush. “You there already?” I type.

There’s a moment of staring at the screen before the three dots appear. “On my way.”

I wince, but I do it. “Mind meeting me someplace else?”

“Wherever you want.”

“My room?” I type and I force myself to press Send. “Room 53, 5th floor.”

It makes me frown, when the reply doesn’t come straight away. And it makes me fear I’ve overstepped.

But after one excruciatingly long moment, this message appears, “Yeah. Be there in ten.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and I look at the clock again, wondering what the fuck I’m doing and trying to make myself see that this, among other things, would also mean breaking the rules.

But instead of coming to my senses and aborting the mission altogether, I find myself getting out of my chair and marching up to my room, all at once feverish and focused.

***

By the time I hear the soft little knock, I’ve already smelled him. And it was fine while he was still gone, when I didn’t even know when he’d be coming back, but now that we’re about to be alone again, the seconds between now and my legs on his shoulders seem like a fucking eternity.

I get off the bed, my eyes darting to my bare feet. I drag them up my boxers and my T-shirt, all of a sudden finding myself scrambling to decide whether I should change into something else after all.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I decide to stop with the nonsense, I pad to the door and I slowly open it. And there he is, waiting to be let in with his lips curled into a smile and his hands in his pockets, but I first throw a glance over his shoulder, to make sure the Common Room really is empty.

It is.

But when I let my eyes land back on him, I find him peering over my head and into my room with one eyebrow raised and tremendous focus on his face.

I frown. Then I grab him by the collar of his shirt and I pull him inside, making him snap out of it and let out a stifled little laugh.

“Never been in a Duchess’s room before,” he says, in a low, playful voice, as I close the door behind him.

But when I turn back to him, he’s once again not even looking at me. His hands in his pockets, he’s scanning the room, slowly strolling past the commode with the pictures and the knick-knacks.

It makes heat wash over me when I drag my eyes up and down his body, watching the muscles in his arm flex as he reaches to take one of the knick-knacks in his hand.

But at the same time, it makes me so pissed, to be this fucking eager while he’s there taking his sweet time with the fucking medal I got in third grade.

I walk over to him, slapping his hand away and making him finally turn to look at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Didn’t invite you to snoop around,” I protest.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. Then, sliding his hands back into his pockets, he takes a step closer, his head tilting and his lips curling into a sexy, self-satisfied little smile. “Impatient, are we?”

My eyes narrow. “Fuck off,” I say and I fold my arms.

He straight-out ignores that, instead prying my hands away from my chest as he shamelessly drags his eyes down my body. “You go to bed in that?” he asks in a soft, husky voice, my wrists still in his grip.

I lock eyes with him. “Sorry I don’t lounge around in lacy negligees,” I say, a little snappily but contently, now that the attention is finally on me.

“You hear me complaining?” he leans to whisper in my ear, making my skin prick with pleasure and my hands fight to be released so they can start touching.

But he only lets them go to hook his fingers into my boxers and yank them down, making me suck in a sharp breath as he wastes no time in grabbing my ass with both hands, lifting me up and putting my legs around him.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders and my entire body flooding with desire, I let him throw me on the bed, but when he moves to slide his hand between my thighs, I click my tongue.

And I make him take his shirt off and I push him into rolling over, so that I’m in his lap and he’s propped up on his elbows, the cut of his muscles even more insanely hot when they’re flexing like they are right now.

Locking eyes with him, I back up a little, delighting in how intense and glazed the look in his eyes becomes when my hands reach his belt and get to work on unbuckling it.

He’s not the only one who’s been learning, I think as I unzip his pants and tug them down a little, biting my lip just thinking about those sounds I got him to make the last time I did this.

I take his rock-hard dick in my hand, making him let out a delicious little grunt. And I start lowering my head to take him in my mouth, but before I do, I look up to see him hungrily soaking up my every move, his breathing heavy and his eyes glazed.

And I put my mouth around him and I hear him suck in a sharp breath, his hand flying to grab a fistful of my hair, and I think to myself, if there ever will be a night when he’ll say more than two words about himself, it’ll be this one.

Chapter 24 - Dahrian

That thing she’s doing with her mouth is threatening to push me over the edge, and I can’t have that, not yet. “Come ‘ere,” I tell her as I give her hair a little tug, my voice rough with desire and my breathing ragged.

She lets go of my dick and looks up at me, the intensity in her eyes making all my restraint fall away. Gritting my teeth, I grab her by the upper arms, roughly pulling her up and onto my lap. And I need to be inside her so bad right now, but first I wrap one arm around her back and start kissing her breasts, making her grab onto my shoulders and let out a moan as I work two fingers into her pussy, rubbing her clit with my thumb as I slide them in and out, just the way she likes it.

I only stop when she digs her nails into my shoulders, actual, unrestrained moans starting to come out of her mouth.

Mad with desire, I pull my fingers out and I use my hand to slide myself inside her, the breath I hear her suck in and the mere feel of her making me grit my teeth with pleasure.

And she starts rocking back and forth, the way she pants as she slides up and down the shaft of my dick making me start to lose it.

I grab her by the waist and I lower myself back onto the pillows with her chest pressed to mine, I lock her in a tight grip and I start thrusting, making her suck in a sharp breath as her hands fly to grab onto the bedpost.

And she’s moaning into my ear and I’m feeling her becoming desperate to meet my thrusts, but I’m hungry for more.

And I don’t know if this is something she’d like, but I still find myself getting my fingers wet in her pussy and then sliding them into her ass, starting to fuck her with both my dick and my hand.

Now, that results in such a delicious string of moans that I almost fail to stop myself from talking dirty to her.

Instead, I grab her more tightly and I whisper into her ear, “She likes that?”

She doesn’t pull away to look at me, but she does give me a couple of quick nods followed by a shaky little “Mmm.”

And I know I won’t get one, but I still ask, “Enough to earn me a little kiss?”

To my surprise, the very next moment, I have her mouth on mine and my lips are parting and our tongues are touching, stroking and twirling, making my heart throb and these shivers of desire run all over my body, my thrusts becoming more desperate with each passing second.

“Fuck,” I hear her curse in a low voice as she breaks the kiss, her pussy tightening around me, “oh fuck.”

It makes eagerness flood me, and I grab her even tighter, pressing my lips to her ear to urge in a breathless whisper, “Yes, come for me.”

And she keeps moving, but it’s only when I already feel myself being pushed over the edge that I realize that she’s snapped out of it. That I’ve fucking ruined it.

***

When I start coming to, she’s already getting me out of her and I’m fighting not to grumble, still flushed, panting and pissed that I let my eagerness get the better of me like that.

And she wraps the sheet around herself and my breathing’s only starting to go back to normal, but expecting to be thrown out immediately, as per the ‘rules’, I move to start getting up.

But instead of pulling back to let me, she just shifts a little, as if to make herself more comfortable. And then she just keeps sitting there, in my lap, looking down as she starts playing with the folds in the sheet on her lap.

It makes my eyebrows pull down, but I sure as hell won’t be complaining.

So I just push myself up a little, making sure I keep her on me, and I lean back against the pillow, putting one hand behind my head and the other casually on her waist.

I clear my throat. “So, Romanov,” I start, my voice still a little unsteady.

She quirks an eyebrow at me and I decide to do it, to sniff around this little thing I couldn’t put out of my head while I was back home. “I was gone for two whole weeks and you didn’t reach for another fuck toy?” I ask teasingly. “Should I be flattered?”

“Glad to see you’re the same arrogant ass,” she drawls, but she does roll her eyes at me, her lips tugging into a little smile.

“Lemme guess,” I say as I throw her a smirk, “I’m also an idiot.”

To my surprise, that earns me a suspicious little squint.

“What?” I demand, smiling and not letting her look away. “You think you have to say it for me to hear it?”

And I give her waist a little pinch, making her squirm and slap my hand away.

But then she turns serious, my ears immediately pricking up.

“Why were you gone?” she asks, flatly, as she looks down at the fabric she’s playing with.

“Had some stuff to take care of,” I say as I start stroking the smooth skin of her arm.

“Could you be any vaguer?”

That makes me turn my eyes back up to her, my eyebrows pulling down.

She’s a little flushed as she says, “It’s just… ‘Stuff to take care of’ could mean anything from doing your annual checkups to spending time with an old flame.” She pauses for a second before she adds, a little breathlessly, “For example.”

Old flame?

Frowning, I open my mouth to ask what she’s talking about.

But the next thing I know, she’s shifting in my lap, and I have her arms around my shoulders and her lips pressed to mine.

For a second, it makes my frown grow deeper, but then my mind goes blank and I’m sliding my tongue inside her mouth and wrapping my arms around her, all my focus back on her lips, her waist, her skin.

And she doesn’t stop kissing me, but now she’s touching me as well, her fingers brushing and her palms stroking the skin of my chest, my arms, my neck. It feels so good, what she’s doing to me, that it makes my heart throb and my muscles go limp all at the same time.

And what I need right now is to get rid of that sheet and feel her naked against me again, but I never get a second round so I can’t be getting my hopes up like that.

Not until I feel it out.

“You keep that up, Romanov,” I say as I pull away a little, and my voice is low and rough, but I make my tone as nonchalant as possible, “you’ll just get yourself another pounding.”

And I can see by the look in her eyes and the flush on her face that she was into it, but she just pulls away and frowns a little, seemingly snapping out of it.

Damnit, I think as I move my hands down to her waist.

Still, she doesn’t get off me. And she doesn’t stop tracing lines on my chest with her fingers, keeping my muscles limp and my skin rippling with pleasure.

“What’s this?” she asks when she reaches the scar above my hip. And she doesn’t look up. She just keeps tracing little circles around it.

“A bad memory,” I say, teasingly, as I try to pull her to me.

She doesn’t let me.

And she keeps touching me, but she also throws me this look.

And the look nudges me to say, “Just a little souvenir from a gáir.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Gáir?” she asks before she turns her eyes back onto her fingers still brushing my chest.

It makes me blow a soft laugh through my nose when I realize that that word must not be a thing here. I put one arm behind my head and one hand on her waist, leaning my head on my bicep as I shamelessly take advantage of this extremely rare opportunity to scan her face without the risk of getting her fist in my mouth.

“Where I come from,” I start to explain, my eyes dragging from her eyelashes to the curve of her jawline to that little Cupid’s Bow, “there’s not a lot of land with magic or resources left. So they divide the good parts equally, to make sure everyone has enough to go on. A gáir is what we call a person who takes the land from those weaker than them so they could live in luxury.”

She looks up at me, finding me already staring at her, and she squints. “You were trying to report one of them?”

For a second, I just blink at her.

And I don’t know what it is, that makes me tell the actual truth. A mix of incredulousness and defiance perhaps…

But I find myself letting out an amused scoff, grabbing her by the waist and pressing my forehead to hers, our lips almost touching. “I was trying to steal from him,” I tell her with a smirk.

“Steal?” she echoes as she breaks herself free.

It makes me laugh. “I see I’ve gone and scandalized you, Duchess,” I poke as I try to get my arms around her again. “Am I about to be thrown out the window?”

She fights me off and throws me a sober look. “What were you trying to steal? When was this?”

For a second, I just look at her, this bitterness suddenly flooding my mouth as I lean back against the pillows again, resting my hands on my lap. “Don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, but failing a little. “I never went to jail for it. So technically, I’m not a common criminal,” I drawl mockingly, “as the Overlord Ex Fiance would call me. You needn’t fret for your reputation.”

And I tear my eyes away from her, starting to feel observed somehow, and I busy myself with pounding the pillow behind me back into shape. But she doesn’t let it go.

“But you did escape going to jail for a crime you actually committed?” she demands, making me turn back to her, frowning and resting my hands on my lap again.

Her eyes are narrowed, assessing.

And the look makes me at the same time defiant and squirming with the need to correct any false assumptions, so I make my voice flat, but I just tell her the truth, plain as day. “They don’t throw kids in jail where I’m from. I was twelve, my brother was ill and I was stealing medicine for him.”

It makes her eyes flash with surprise. “What?” she mouths as she leans a little forward, resting her palms on my chest and making all the defiance melt away. Then she swallows roughly and whispers, “And he…”

“Didn’t survive,” I snap, letting out an awkward little laugh. “Got into all that trouble for nothing.”

What the fuck is wrong with me? And now she’s going to start pitying me, I think as I start gritting my teeth.

To my surprise, she just looks at me for a second and then comes to lie on my chest, her right hand starting to brush my arm.

“What was he like?” she asks in a voice in which I find zero pity.

For a second, I stay silent, looking down at her hair spilling over my chest and her leg thrown over me, this intense warmth spreading through my chest.

“Well,” I say in a pensive voice as I start stroking her upper arm, “the first thing you’d notice would definitely be the fucking mane of dark, hopelessly unruly hair. And he had this habit of starting to tell you a joke, realizing he’d forgotten the punchline, and then making you sit there as he started all over again.” I pause for a second, frowning as a fresh pang of old pain shoots through me. “And he was kind and the illness, strangely, only made him kinder.”

She pushes herself off my chest, making me have to suppress a grumble. “That must’ve been so difficult, losing him.”

“Well,” I say matter-of-factly, starting to stroke the porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders, “I had five other brothers I needed to focus on keeping alive, so I didn’t have the luxury of lingering on it. Besides, even if I did…”

Pulling her to me, I lean in for a kiss, whispering, “It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.”

“I mean, yeah,” she starts as she pulls away, her tone dead serious, “but it’s also in the present. My father died years ago and I still carry him with me everywhere I go.”

That makes me frown, but just as I open my mouth to ask about it, she shakes her head and says, “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t just pretend something doesn’t exist because it’s painful.”

“What do you think, I’m stupid?” I ask as I sit up straighter, my eyebrows pulling down. “Of course I know you can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. But you can make yourself strong enough for it not to affect you.”

“Not to affect you?” she echoes, her eyebrows shooting up. And she sounds frustrated as she says, “Oh, like what happened with your ex? That must have nothing to do with your romantic choices.”

For a second, there’s silence during which my mind is buzzing and her face twisting into this expression of sudden realization and consequent panic.

“How do you know about my ex?” I demand in a low, serious voice.

She glances away before she says, hesitantly, “Ricky told me.”

“No,” I growl, my mind running marathons as my frown grows deeper. “Ricky wouldn’t do that.”

There’s one long moment of silence during which she looks as if she’s trying to force herself to say something, making me hold my breath. “Maybe I got him drunk on Feinmann’s whiskey,” she finally says, quietly, and then raises her eyebrows, pressing her lips tight.

I push myself off the bed, making her double back to get out of my lap. “You did what?” I ask her, a growl in my voice and daggers in my eyes as I stand there, naked, in front of her bed.

And her eyes are rounding in what seems to be both shame and apology, but it’s starting to really hit me now, what this whole night really was, and I’m finding it harder and harder to control my anger.

I hear her get off the bed, but I’m already grabbing my clothes off the floor.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” she pleads as she tries to grab me by the arm.

I stop to shoot her a warning look, but it doesn’t scare her. “I really am,” she mutters.

I tear my eyes away and without throwing her another glance, I put on my clothes and I march out of her room, seething inside.

***

I find myself pacing in my tent without really remembering how I got there, eyes unseeing, teeth gritting and fists clenching.

Thinking about what just happened, back in her room, rewinding and rewinding and rewinding. And every time I rewind, I find something new, a fresh slap across the face.

Inviting me to her room.

That first question about the ‘old flame.’

Literally shutting me up by kissing me.

Fucking kissing me, being all cuddly and shit.

Worst of all, making me talk about my brother. My fucking brother. And I don’t talk about fucking feelings. That’s the whole fucking point of not doing serious.

It makes me let out a bitter laugh. Here I thought I’d be enjoying myself tonight, unwinding after stopping yet another one of my brother’s rampages, and finally getting to see and feel her again, this time someplace with minimal danger of being interrupted. Someplace I’d have an actual shot at getting her truly relaxed.

Exactly, my fox’s voice booms from the shadows, teeth gritted and tone mocking all at once, and it never once occurred to you that it was too good to be true.

I stop pacing and he just keeps going. When it should’ve occurred to you the moment she asked you to come to her room.

He. Is. Pissed.

And it makes me feel both unsettled and drained all of a sudden.

“Yeah, well,” I tell him as I come to sit on the bed, my voice dropping with fatigue as I run my hand over my face, “I was bone tired, I’d been gone for what seemed like a fucking eternity, and I just wanted…”

Yeah, you just wanted, he drawls mockingly. And she invited you to her room and everything smelled of her and you were getting her undivided attention, and, well... He lets out an angry scoff. The boy got caught up in a fantasy, right?

It makes me grit my teeth, what he’s saying, it makes me burn with the need to shut him up as soon as possible.

But he seems to be in the middle of a rant, his voice taking on a disgusted note, But then, then she started openly seducing you to get you to talk. And you… You just lay there and let her humiliate you.

By the time he says that, my body is painfully tense and my head is threatening to burst so I just keep sitting there, gritting my teeth as I try to stop myself from going off the rails.

What? he pokes at me with poison in his voice. Cat got your tongue?

I force a flat, but determined voice when I say, “I think we need to talk about this a little later.”

Weak, he insists, making me grit my teeth and clench my fists even harder. You’re just plain weak. That’s how she got you to show your weakness in the first place.

“I said,” I snarl at him, “we’ll talk about this later.”

***

When I wake up the next day, I’m in no better mood than the one before. But the Fourth Game is tomorrow and I’ve found the situation worse than I left it when it comes to the tensions between Grimms and Fiáins. I’ve even had to forbid my pack from drinking during the day, at least while we’re still here. But that’s not an actual solution and despite my mood, I at least need to be present.

So I take a seat in front of my tent, pretending to be on my phone. And the members of my pack all throw smiles when they see me wave, but no one comes to bother me.

Until my eyes dart up and I see Ricky walking down the plateau and straight for my tent.

Fuck. He’s more perceptive than most of them. He’ll notice there’s something going on and then there will be questions.

Fucking questions about things I do not want to talk about.

And when he comes to a stop in front of me, making me raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, he’s frowning. And the first words to come out of his mouth are, “Um, you okay?”

“All good,” I say with a forced little smile.

That seems to appease him.

And for a second, I consider asking him how it happened exactly, that he let himself be interrogated about my private business. But that makes me instantly start to fume so I decide against it.

“Shoot,” I just say.

“Is Brogan back from the homeland?” he asks as he throws a glance around the camp.

“She’s scheduled to arrive tomorrow,” I say, relieved it’s something as simple as that he’s come to ask, “a couple of hours before the Game.”

But he presses his lips tight and then curses, “Goddamn it.”

It makes me frown. It’s not very often you can hear a word like that from Ricky’s mouth. I lean a little forward. “What’s up, mate? Can I help?”

“Well,” he starts, obviously frustrated, “she said she’d give me my uniform by now. My last one got really damaged in the Third Game. And I wanted to do some training in the new one, so my hyena could get used to the scent.”

I remember her mentioning she got them. That’s weird. It’s not like Brogan to forget about something like that.

“I think they’re all in her tent,” I say, motioning at the one next to mine.

Ricky just squints at me for a second. “You think she wouldn’t mind?”

“I know it for a fact,” I reply with determination in my voice.

And he breathes a sigh of relief, already moving to walk away. Then he stops and squints at me again.

“What?” I ask, forcing myself not to sound unwelcoming.

“I don’t know,” he says in a cheerful voice, making my muscles relax. “Strangely, I guess I’m even more nervous about the Games now. Now that I’ve experienced being the one to score the first point.”

For a second, I just look at him. Then I let out a low scoff and I find myself saying, “That’s how it goes. Makes you start wanting. And before you know it, you want even more, a lot more than you could ever get. And that’s when real trouble starts.”

Now, that makes him frown. “You sure you’re okay, Boss?”

“Do I look like I’m not?” I demand, my voice a little harsher than I meant to make it.

But that doesn’t seem to throw him off. He lowers himself into a crouch next to me. “Doesn’t sound like you’re talking about points at all,” he says, simply. “Care to tell me what you are talking about?”

I lean a little forward, locking eyes with him and shooting him a warning look.

He lets out a nervous chuckle, pushes himself off the ground and announces, “Gonna go get that uniform now.”

I get up as well, the plan being spending as much time as I can in my tent, where no one can bother me.

But it’s at that exact moment that I see O’Malley marching over to me.

“Hey, Boss,” he says nonchalantly, “Romanov’s looking for you.”

And just like that, my mind goes blank.

***

“You free?” O’Malley asks as I keep staring at him stupidly. “I saw that you were on your phone…”

She’s here?

For a second, dread and longing each fight for their own place in my mind and my body.

“No, that’s fine,” I mutter, swallowing around a growing lump in my throat.

It gets worse when I spot her, O’Malley pointing out where my tent is and her starting to approach me, fast.

I don’t know if I can do this, I think as my heart starts pounding.

“Hey,” she says as she slows to a stop in front of me, looking up at me all formal and embarrassed.

“Hey,” I echo, flatly, folding my arms and forcing myself to channel a rock.

Just a plain rock, no feelings, nothing.

“So, um,” she starts, hesitantly, as she keeps trying to lock eyes with me.

And I’m not straight-out refusing to look at her, but I’m not letting her put me under her spell either.

Finally, she gives up and starts talking. “Look, I just wanted to apologize in person. For what happened last night. If you’re angry, you have every right to be.” She pauses for a second and I can tell it’s not easy for her to say it, but she does. “It was stupid, what I did.”

And there’s this overwhelming urge to talk back, to tell her exactly how stupid it was, but I stifle it.

A rock, I chant to myself, staying silent.

And I can tell she’s confused by my lack of reaction, but she doesn’t let it stop her. “Um,” she keeps going, “if you’re wondering why it even happened, I guess I let my curiosity get the better of me, and Ricky was there and, well, there’s really no excuse—”

“It’s fine,” I cut in, forcing a finality into my voice.

Because the longer she’s here, the closer I get to the brink of unraveling. “Now, if that’ll be all…” And I have to force myself to turn my back to her, but I do, moving for my tent.

She walks around me, looking up at me with those eyes of hers and making me double back, letting out a low groan.

“So you accept the apology?” she asks in a soft, fervent voice that pins me in place. “Because, seriously, it’s the first and last time I’ll let myself do anything like that.”

And when I glance at them, there’s this plea in her eyes that makes it impossible for me not to offer something or to soften my voice as I say, “I believe you. I know you’re a good person, Romanov.”

“So we’re good?” she asks, the look in her eyes turning brighter.

But now I’m feeling myself start to fume. Comforting, I’ve just found myself comforting her.

“As I said,” I reply, a touch of roughness in my voice again, “it’s fine.”

I see a frown crease her forehead and I feel all my efforts at channeling the rock start failing, so I add, more coldly than ever, “Now, thanks for stopping by. See ya.”

“When? Where?” I hear her ask, in a weird little voice, as I lift the flap of my tent.

It makes all my muscles tense up and my teeth grit, but I finally throw her a look over my shoulder and say, “Don’t know. Around.”

And I disappear into the tent without actually looking at her. I can’t bring myself to. So I don’t know how she takes it, with a shrug or a frown or whatever. I just hope she did take the hint, because I’m not sure I could bring myself to literally tell her I can’t see her anymore.

But once I’m inside, I cling to this determination. That I won’t even be thinking about it.

And I throw myself on my bed, preferring the darkness over the sun glaring outside.

And I know what it is that I’ve just now decided and I know he’ll probably only get me more worked up, but I fail to stop the urge to poke at my fox.

“Do you approve?” I demand, bitterness lacing my every word. “Are we good now?”

And I know he heard me. He was present, his ears pricked up, the whole time she was here. But now, there’s only silence. Silence that’s fucking pissing me off.

“I thought you wanted me to act,” I say, my teeth gritting.

Silence.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I demand as I push myself off the bed and start pacing the tent, my chest heaving with rage. “In the name of Lycan, last night, you were foaming at the fucking mouth about this.”

I’ve sobered up, he finally says, the touch of ice in his voice making me stop midstep. And besides… it’s helped me realize something.

And I’m still standing there, panting with rage, but I find myself needing to know what the fuck he’s talking about. “Yeah, what?”

There’s a second of silence before he says, simply, It’s out of my hands.

“Out of your almighty hands?” I snap at him, letting out a low, frustrated laugh.

Silence.

“Nah,” I say with an angry wave of my hand, “don’t believe you. This has happened before.” And I keep pacing, growing angrier by the second. “You went nuts after Aisling cheated on me and I couldn’t speak to you for a week.”

To my surprise, he lets out a bitter little laugh. Did you ever have to literally hide me from Aisling? From anyone, for that matter?

There’s a second of tense silence as my anger dissipates, leaving this hollowness behind. I stop pacing, feeling my throat close.

“I won’t be seeing her anymore,” I finally say, my voice low and breathless and dull somehow.

Fine, he snaps. You won’t.

His voice turns pensive when he adds, But it’s too late now. What I feared most… It’s already happened. And you know it.

My heart skips a beat, leaving this vague but all-pervading fear behind. I don’t say anything. I don’t even move. And he slinks back into the shadows, but I just keep standing there, my shoulders slumping and my eyebrows pulling down as his words keep echoing in my head, over and over and over again.

Just not the ones he said just now. The ones he said quite a while ago, back when her and I had our first ever rendezvous.

Chapter 25 - Nyx

The day of the Game, I wake up in such a terrible mood, it’s all I can do to stop myself from unraveling. I busy myself with doing my rituals, cleaning out my room, organizing my class notes.

And it’s been almost twenty four hours since I went to his tent to apologize, but the words refuse to stop echoing through my mind.

Don’t know. Around.

And every time, I try to swat them the hell away from myself, but they just keep coming back, bringing this coldness with them that seems to seep straight into my bones.

How horrible it is, I bitch to myself, that right after he makes me let myself go so much, I end up fucking kissing him, this happens.

Angry, it would’ve been so much better if he were angry. It’s this sudden and total indifference that’s making me want to pull my fucking hair out.

So when it’s time to leave for the Fourth Game, I almost forget I still haven’t told brother darling about the change of plans.

And I’m finding it hard to control myself and my anger at my own despicable behavior today, but it’s not like I have a choice. Dressed in my uniform, I go down the stairs and into the Common Room, where I find him and Ricky talking in hushed voices.

As soon as they spot me, they go silent and Nikolay scowls at me. “What’re you looking at?”

I ignore him and turn to Ricky instead, practically hissing at him, “Don’t you have to get going?”

He just blinks at me for a second. “Sure, Nyx,” he says when he snaps out of it. And he gets up and starts walking away. “Dahrian’s probably waiting for me anyway.”

Just the mention of his name makes a knife twist in my stomach.

But I force myself to dismiss it and turn back to my sour-faced brother. After all, I have the Game in less than an hour. So I clear my throat and I say, forcing a flat voice, “I came to tell you I won’t be walking to the Game with you after all.”

Nikolay just looks at me for a second. “I couldn’t care less,” he spits out.

I turn on my heel and start walking away.

“Did you hear me?” he shouts after me. “I couldn’t care less.”

But I just keep walking, feeling as if I’m wading through some kind of bad dream.

Unthinking and restless, I go down the stairs, but just as I’m about to walk out of Lilith Tower, I spot him moving for the main door with one of his sycophants.

Max.

And before I can stop myself, I’m already walking over to him. Pissed, I’m so pissed that he’s pushing himself into the picture with the land like this.

He spots me, stops and waves his ‘friend’ away, squinting.

“Might I have a word?” I ask as I come to stand in front of him.

And I don’t really know what I’m expecting, but it’s definitely not the simple, sweet, “Of course” that he gives me. “Let’s walk to the Game together.”

I frown, but I nod. And I let him open the door for me, and I walk out and into the crowd outside, with him at my tail. It’s the Dame Gothel statue we’re headed for, from where we’ll be following the crowd into the next Game arena.

“Look, Max,” I say when he falls into step with me, forcing a polite voice, “I don’t think there's any need for actual hostility between the two of us. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Who’s being hostile?” he asks.

And he throws me such a confused look, it leaves me confused for a second as well. “I know you helped Nikolay restart the sale process,” I finally say, my anger at him starting to surface again.

“I…” He shrugs, throwing me an apologetic look. “I may have pulled a few strings, yes.”

“Well,” I say, fighting not to grit my teeth, “I need you to tell me what you asked for in return.”

“In return?” he echoes, throwing me this funny little smile. “Sure, we’re no longer together, but I did it to help, Anastasya.”

For a second, I stay silent, fighting the urge to yell. Then I make myself take a deep breath.

If he’s going to be like this… “Well,” I say, shooting straight for his weak spot, “as a prince, I’d think you’d be able to do more than find my brother new buyers.”

As usual, this gets results. “Fine,” he snaps and he makes me stop just as the crowd reaches the spot where the Elevator is hiding. Then his eyes soften again and he throws me a warm smile. “I didn’t want to do this before it became official, but…”

I hold my breath.

“Once you get the sale papers,” he asks with one eyebrow quirked at me, “whose name will you see on them?”

It makes me clench my jaw, knowing what he’ll say even before he says it.

He doesn’t wait for me to ask. “Maximillian Aalders the Second,” he leans to whisper.

And by the time he pulls away, I’ve at least regained my power of speech. But I’m balling my hands into fists as I say through gritted teeth, “They’re selling it to you?”

He just looks at me for a second and then nods.

“But you don’t have that kind of money,” I protest, barely registering the Elevator rising from the ground and the people bumping into us, forcing us inside.

“I do now,” he replies matter-of-factly.

Oh, so that’s what the audience with the King was probably about.

The interaction makes me so angry, I find myself surprised when the Elevator door opens and we walk out into the Entrance Hall.

For a second, it distracts me, making me look around, wondering if the Fourth Game will be held in the castle itself. And that’s when I spot him.

Dahrian, in the crowd to my left, slowing down to throw me this weird look.

It makes my heart start pounding. I don’t keep walking. I can’t keep walking, my head threatening to burst with everything that’s going on.

“Hey,” I hear Max say and I snap out of it, turning my eyes back onto him. He’s frowning at me. “Didn’t you say you care what happens with the land?” He lets out an incredulous little laugh. “And here I am, serving you the ideal solution on a silver platter, no strings attached.”

For a second, I just look at him, my mind still buzzing and my anger only growing less controlled. “I want you to back down, Max, got it?” I say in a warning voice.

“Come on, cupcake,” he says as he takes a step closer. “It’s a good thing I’m doing, for all of us.”

The nickname and the way he says it all make blood boil in my veins. And I fail to stop myself. I get in his face, fangs flashing, and I drawl, “If you don’t back down, Max, I swear to fucking Lilith herself, I’m going to hunt you down and I’m going to drain you, and then…” I grit my teeth. “Then I’m going to leave your pitiful, rotting corpse somewhere no one will ever find.” I pause to look deeper into his eyes. “Understood?”

And I can tell he’s taken aback, but then my phone pings and I automatically whip it out.

“F12, now,” the text reads. The text from Howe.

For a second, I just blink at it, trying to stop myself from reacting to it in any way. But the next thing I know, I’m walking straight to F12.

“Hey, where’re you going?” I hear Max demand.

“Bathroom.”

There’s a second of silence before he yells out, “The bloody Game’s about to begin.”

I don’t even reply. I’m barely controlling my anger, and I’m actually looking forward to seeing what this other asshole wants from me.

***

When I close the door to F12 behind me and turn to face him, I’m seething, opening my mouth to ask him how the fuck he thinks it’s okay to text me at this time.

But he’s already coming at me, this primal anger twisting his face as he slams me against the door and pins me in place with one muscled forearm across my chest, my eyebrows pulling down and my hands flying to his shoulders to push him away.

The grip only tightens, while the other hand moves to roughly work its way between my legs. “Hey,” I shout at him, using all four limbs to try to fight him off, feeling at the same time confused, thrilled to be able to blow off steam and turned on by him winning the fight. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Fucking you in that uniform,” he says through gritted teeth as he manages to get his hand where he wants it, aggressively unzipping my pants as he stares into my eyes with that weirdly intense, angry look in his.

I block his hand before it can slide under. “You wish,” I drawl, and my jaw is clenching but I’m breathless, eager to get his reaction. Anything but indifference, please.

He presses me tighter to the door with his forearm, gets in my face and growls, “I don’t wish. I make it happen.”

It makes me start burning up, that rough finality in his voice that I’ve heard once before. And I let him get his hand between my legs and he starts working me with his fingers, roughly, and it still makes me go wet and a moan almost escapes me, but I want more. I want all of it, I want all of his anger, however much I can get.

So I find myself starting to put up a fight again, my teeth gritted as I say, “Get your filthy hands off me.”

At that, he abruptly lets go of me, shoots me an angry look and grabs me by the ass with both hands, pressing my crotch to his, so I can feel exactly how hard he is. “Oh you pretend you don’t,” he growls in my ear, “but you want it, don’t you, you manipulative little vixen. You want my dick inside you.”

Fuck, I think to myself, getting more turned on by the second. I muster all my strength, I fight him off and I shove him, hard, so he stumbles back a little. “We have the Game, you asshole,” I say through gritted teeth.

His chest heaving, for a second, he just throws daggers at me. “What did you call me?” comes a breathless, menacing whisper.

It makes me want to lick my lips. “Asshole,” I repeat, slowly and angrily mouthing the word.

He grits his teeth, lust and anger twisting his face. “Yeah?” Then he turns me around like I’m a rag doll, marches me to the nearest table with my back pressed to his, and pushes my head down with his hand to bend me over. “You’re about to start singing a different tune.”

And I’m getting choked-up with desire, but I still snap, “Yeah, well, you’re all talk.”

I hear him expel an angry breath, right before he strips me, does two rough kicks with his knee to spread my legs and then wraps his hand around my neck. I bite my lip and I dig my nails into the table, the anticipation making me lose my breath. But the next thing I know, he’s already pushing himself inside me, more roughly than ever, and I’m letting out a shaky breath immediately followed by a moan.

“Now that’s more like it,” he leans to drawl through gritted teeth. “Just with a lot more begging.” And he takes his dick out of me only to forcefully start sliding it up and down my pussy. “And beg you will, Romanov,” he keeps drawling, the roughness in his voice making shivers of pleasure run down my spine, “beg me to fuck you harder, and beg me to fill your hot little pussy with my cum till it can’t take no more.”

“Yes, please,” I find myself breathing out, eager to get him to make good on that.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls my cheek to his lips, his voice rough and breathless as he echoes, “Please? Didn’t know you could be such a good, good girl.”

Oh fuck, I think as the words make me go even more desperate for him. Then he finally pushes himself back inside me and starts thrusting, one hand still grabbing my hair while the other one starts roaming over my back and my ass and my chest, squeezing so hard, it hurts, but feeling so good, it makes my eyes start rolling back.

“Fuck,” I curse in a low voice as my body urges me to get him deeper inside me.

“What’s that?” he demands as he stops abruptly, his breathing ragged. “Couldn’t hear you over all the moaning.”

“Harder,” I plead, no longer giving a single fuck, “fuck me harder.”

And that makes him let out this dragged-out groan, tightening his grip on me as he starts thrusting even faster.

But it’s at the very next moment that my entire body stiffens, like someone threw a bucket of cold water at me.

A smell. What’s that smell?

***

Suddenly panicking, I squirm to make him stop and he gets out of me, stiffening as we both rush to get dressed and turn to the door.

And there he is, standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob, staring at us with this indecipherable look in his eyes.

“Max,” I breathe out, feeling hot blood rush to my face.

And it’s then that I realize I still haven’t pulled my pants all the way up, but the next thing I know, I have Dahrian, fully dressed, pressing his back into me, his broad shoulders shielding me entirely.

I grab onto his uniform, pressing my forehead to him, and his body seems to be vibrating with rage, but it’s so comforting, the warmth spreading from it, that I get this urge to keep hiding behind it.

Gritting my teeth, I decide not to be a little bitch.

And I quickly fix my uniform and I step out from behind him, catching this pissed-off frown he throws me before I force myself to look my ex fiance in the eye.

“Taking a break from looking for the bathroom?” he asks, his voice not mocking at all, but still making Dahrian let out a growl from behind my back.

I sense him move forward and I block him with my arm as I keep my eyes on Max.

It’s making my eyebrows pull down, the way he’s acting, strangely calm and collected, but the next thing I know, there’s Ricky running past the open door behind him, spotting us, doubling back and barging in to say, “Boss, everyone, come on, the Game’s about to start.”

And once he’s done, I see his eyebrows pull down as his eyes sweep over the three of us.

But then Dahrian pushes past me and starts marching over to him, without throwing me a single glance.

My mind feverishly blank and my body restless and limp at the same time, I watch the two of them walk out the door and disappear to the left.

When I snap out of it, Max is still there, looking at me.

I move to push past him, but he grabs me by the wrist and leans to whisper in my ear, “I think we need to talk, Anastasya. First thing after the Game.”

I just look at him. And I did hear what he just said, but my mind refuses to linger on it, at all. I break myself free and start rushing after Dahrian, wanting to catch him before the Game, needing to catch him before the Game, the way he wouldn’t even look at me just now making me feel an unbearable restlessness.

Chapter 26 - Dahrian

Isense it when she starts closing the distance between us, but I just keep walking down the hallway with the rest of the players, all my energy and focus being spent on trying not to lose my shit. Calming my heavy breathing, releasing the tension in my muscles, trying to stop my mind from imploding.

Not think about it, not think about any of it, that’s what I need to do right now.

So it makes me breathe a sigh of relief, when one of the doors ahead opens and out comes the Archon, waiting for us to file inside.

If this were happening under any other circumstances, I’d probably feel surprise at the fact we’re actually going to be having an indoor Game.

Right now, it fails to interest me in the least.

But the look on Brogan’s face when it’s my turn to step inside, that gives me pause. She looks… absent somehow.

I stop and I move a little to the side of the door, letting everyone else walk through and all the while making sure my eyes don’t land on a certain someone. Two certain someones, to be more exact.

But the Archon is already throwing me a funny glance so I lean in to ask, “Is everything okay?”

It makes me frown, when she squints at me. “Why do you ask?”

Is it all in my head? Am I projecting?

“No reason,” I say.

Still, I get my fox to take a subtle whiff of her, to see if any red flags come up.

Nothing.

I shake my head and I move for the door, but she stops me.

“Good luck,” she says, simply, when I turn to her.

I give her a nod, but I fail to force myself to throw in a smile.

And once I walk inside, for a second, my mind busies itself by scanning the room.

The barely lit, enormous fucking classroom that looks more like a crossbreed between an arena and a courtroom, with the rectangular ring in the middle and the stone steps where the audience is already sitting surrounding it from all sides, everything in grim-looking, dark and bare stone.

But as soon as I feel myself nudged to join the other players at the center of the ring, my eyes dart back to her. And all I see is this stiffness in her pale face.

I come to stand beside Ricky, who throws me a funny look, but I just give him a nod, failing to stop the urge to tip my head to the right, where she’s standing, and checking who’s standing beside her.

And it gives me some pleasure at least, to see she’s far away from that fucking asshole, but that, in turn, only makes me feel even more pissed. Because it makes me remember the way she said ‘Max’ when just now she spotted him, and the way she stopped me from coming at him, it all making a knife twist in my stomach.

The Game is about to start, my fox’s voice booms inside my head just as Brogan comes to the center of the ring with us and motions for the Pied Piper and Gleason to shake hands to activate the Box. You should calm the fuck down, he warns.

“This is the best I can do,” I tell him, my teeth gritting with effort.

Do better, he snarls at me. Or risk me going off the rails as well.

That shuts me up, making me realize what a reckless asshole I’ve been since the night before last, when she invited me to her room.

And I can’t fucking believe it, that I allowed it to come this far.

I allowed seeing her walking with that asshole — not even touching, for crying out loud — send me into a fucking spiral, failing to stop myself from going to show her she’s mine and no one else’s, not even a day after I said I wouldn’t be seeing her again.

I allowed her to wrap me around her fucking finger, making me follow one thousand six hundred and forty two goddamn rules, while tricking me into abandoning the only fucking rule that I have.

And let’s not forget, I allowed myself to stop paying attention to anything other than her, I curse as I force myself to get my head back in the game.

Because the Archon is already flinging Hourglass up in the air and taking a seat in the chair with the Box in her hands.

I fix my eyes on Hourglass, working on steadying my breathing, my muscles tensing up in anticipation.

It flips and the sand starts running.

The next thing I know, I have this urge to look down, only to see there’s a grid flashing on the floor beneath my feet.

Chapter 27 - Nyx

It’s not as soon as the sand starts running and the grid appears that I look away from the Archon. I do it only after I see her close her eyes. I don’t like the menacing glance she threw Nikolay, just now, as she was passing him in the audience, making him squirm in his seat. And there’s someone else here that my eyes keep getting drawn to.

But the Game’s started and it’s clear we each have to step inside one of the rectangles, so I take one, and so does everyone else, in silence.

And the next thing I know, there are walls snapping up from the floors, four dark stone walls enclosing me in a room twice as long as it is wide, no windows and only three closed doors on the other side.

For a second, it makes me wonder how the audience will be able to watch this, but then a stone pillar springs right in front of me, another hourglass on top, and the middle of the floor stretching between me and the doors starts weirdly shaking. And all of a sudden, at least the third of its length is no longer the floor, it’s a punji trap, seemingly no bottom but lots and lots of metal spikes shooting up.

I frown, waiting for more stuff to appear, but then my ears prick up and my eyes dart to the hourglass only to see the grains of sand start trickling through its neck.

For a second, that downright confuses me. I’ll be playing this game alone? There’ll be no unwelcome distractions in the form of men who try to fuck me one minute and completely ignore me the other?

And I move to explore the room a little, to start trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do here, when I sense something behind my back and all my muscles stiffen again.

But when I turn around, it almost makes me stumble back into the punji trap, finding myself staring back.

My frown growing deeper, I just walk a slow circle around the body identical to mine, from the mane of black hair to the combat boots on her feet.

She, or it, or whatever, lets me, not moving a muscle. And I don’t know if I’m supposed to touch her, so I don’t.

But I do whisper, “What are you?”

To my surprise, she gives me a little smile, a somewhat scared one, lifts her finger at me and says, “Only one.”

It makes my eyebrows pull down. “One what?”

“Only one,” comes the same answer.

“Fine,” I snap, “but what does that mean?”

“Only one.”

Feeling myself start to get angry, I take a deep breath and I turn to the three doors. I guess she’s telling me only one of those is right.

But how am I supposed to know which, I wonder as my eyes drag down their identical wooden surfaces.

I start walking around the room, looking, the girl following me around, but not saying anything.

I find that there’s a chandelier hanging off the ceiling that I haven’t noticed before.

I lean over the edge of the trap and inspect the spikes shooting upwards. Sharp. They’re fucking sharp.

I check the walls, finding the stone too slippery to hold onto, at all. Made from some special material.

And I find that the stone pillar actually has a stone bowl at the top, with two hollows, one at each side of the hourglass. Weird. Don’t know what to think about that.

But by the time I’m done inspecting, the hourglass is telling me I don’t have a lot more time.

So, despite not knowing what the Game is even about, I come to stand in front of the trap, opposite the first door from the left, I take a deep breath and I jump.

And I land on my feet, right on the other side, pushing myself up immediately and grabbing the doorknob to try to get out.

I do manage to open the door, but there’s only blackness on the other side and when I walk through…

I just come out the other side, facing the same room, just with one less door and the punji trap leaving less footing between its edge and the wall with the door.

What the fuck, I curse as I stare at the empty wall where the first door to the left was.

And I glance at the girl standing to my right, that scared little smile on her lips as she lifts her finger again. “Only one,” she repeats.

Does she not think about the doors?

Maybe I have to get her through, it occurs to me.

And I let my eyes sweep over the room once again, taking a hesitant breath as I look up and at the chandelier.

Without hesitation, I grab the girl and I hoist her over my shoulder. And my muscles are already straining, but I jump onto the pillar with her, I take a deep breath and I kick my boots off the stone.

We fly through the air, the girl and I, and I grab onto the chandelier while midjump and I propel myself even farther, finally landing with her in front of the second door.

I don’t hesitate. Putting the girl down, I pull the doorknob and I push her through.

She disappears and the blackness behind the door shimmers a little, making my heart beat a little faster.

Was that it, I think to myself. And I can’t be sure, but I have to give it a try. So I step through the door myself.

Only to find myself in the very same situation I was in a moment ago. Standing on the other side of the trap, the girl to my right, staring at a single door on the other side, now with zero footing before the spikes start.

Fuck, I curse with gritted teeth. Fuck. Fuck.

“So you’re just dead weight, aren’t you?” I turn to snap at the girl, hating how scared she looks.

But it’s then that the stone pillar occurs to me. And I walk up to it, frowning, my eyes darting from the smooth stone surface of the bowl to the only remaining door ahead, “Only one” echoing in my mind.

Blood Magic. I’m supposed to use Blood Magic for this? To make the two of us into one so we could walk out the third door?

I can’t fucking believe this, I think as I start pacing left and right, watching the grains of sand keep trickling, reminding me of how little time I have left.

Never have I ever encountered an example of a Game that forced you to use a certain type of Magic.

But of course, that’s just my luck, I think with gritted teeth, my hands balling into fists. Now, if I don’t do it, I’ll lose the Game and that’s it for me. But if I do, I’ll have Nikolay, Mother and Lilith knows who else at my back again.

I inhale deeply and I decide I won’t be using fucking Mind Magic to do this. I won’t be forced into using it.

And besides, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I just need to open all the doors and the ‘only one’ working.

So I walk up to the trap again, to assess it once again. Then I walk as far back as I can, take a deep breath and start running, kicking myself off the floor as soon as I’m just close enough.

And for a second, I find myself flying straight towards the third door, already picturing myself flinging it open.

But then the spikes beneath me start shooting further up, and I do a flip in the air to avoid them and get higher, but once I do the three-sixty and my eyes land back on them, I’m falling straight onto their sharp tips.

And there’s this tug I feel somewhere behind my navel and I realize that the Box is about to zap me out of the Game.

But the next thing I know, the silence is getting switched out for fucking chaos, I’m crashing onto solid ground back in the room in which we started the Game, and there’s a stampede of people around me.

Wincing, I push myself off the ground and jump to my feet, my mind struggling to comprehend what’s going on, mostly because of all the people and shifters in their animal forms running around, scared, some of them casting magic at the only entrance into the room.

Have we been locked in, I think as dread starts seeping into my bones.

What the fuck is going on?

My eye darts to the Archon’s chair, finding the Pied Piper standing in front of it with a pissed-off look on her face. Frowning, I see the Archon seemingly trying to pull something out of the Box. The way she’s failing — her hand twitching — suggests that the Pied Piper is using Mind Magic on her.

I guess she has things under control, I think as my head snaps to where Nikolay was sitting, finding him splayed on the ground, panting and looking bewildered, blood trickling out of his nose, his ears, his eyes.

Holy shit, I curse as I rush over to him. “Nikolay. What’s wrong? What happened?” I demand, fighting the urge to shake the answers out of him.

“It just stopped,” he says. “And then the Archon…” He breaks off, the look in his eye wild and absent all at once. “I don’t know what she’s trying to do.”

Just as he says that, I hear panicked yells from the people behind me and I stand up, turning around with my muscles clenching in anticipation.

And I see these people dragging the Archon out of her chair as the Pied Piper watches, but my mind doesn’t linger.

Because there’s Dahrian’s fox stalking over to me, its eyes fixed on mine.

I freeze.

“Get away from her,” I hear Max yell out.

But the next moment, there’s chaos, the fox jumping to land between me and the people around me, Nikolay scrambling to get out from under my feet, Max and a lot of the others lunging at the fox, the fox snarling and snapping its teeth as it keeps pressing me back and away from everyone else.

Are we all just going to die here, I think to myself just as Ricky appears from the crowd and shouts, “Dahrian.”

And the fox snarls at him, making him double back, white as a sheet, but then it shifts back into a human in a tattered, bloodied uniform. It remains standing there for a second, turns to push past me without throwing me a glance and practically rips the door out of the doorframe, marching out and letting the others start spilling through as well.

***

Trying not to think at all, but still more rattled than I’ve been in ages, I make my way to the top of Grimm Tower, where they’ve taken the Archon.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not at liberty to say,” I hear the Pied Piper’s mousy assistant’s voice even before I walk through the door. “For now, at least.”

I take a deep breath and I step into the anteroom. There, I find almost all the players and professors waiting, all the armchairs already occupied and even some plain chairs brought out. I pause for a second and I see people nodding at me, and I nod as well, but my eyes immediately dart to Dahrian, who’s standing leaned against the wall with his arms folded, eyes fixed somberly ahead.

“And what’re we supposed to do until you are?”

Finding a chair near the entrance, I shift my focus onto the person asking the question. A Grimm talking to the assistant, who’s got her back turned to the door into the Pied Piper’s office. Closed door.

“Listen, everyone,” she says as she scans the room in front of her, obviously uncomfortable but pushing through it, “we’ll figure out what happened and we’ll make sure everyone who was still in the Game when this happened, stays in the Game. Alright?”

At that, a low murmur, a content one, spreads through the room, making my eyebrows pull down. The Grimm goes back to his seat and the assistant gets back in the office, closing the door behind her.

What the… Do they really only care about the results?

And my eyes automatically dart to Dahrian, but he’s not throwing a single glance in my direction, or any direction at all, still staring ahead with that somber look on his face.

But just as I’m about to look away, his gaze flits to the door behind me and I see him grit his teeth.

My nose tells me it’s Max even before I see him walk past me in his most official manner.

And he goes straight for the door into the Pied Piper’s office, gives it a light knock and gets invited in, just like that. Of course.

“Hey,” that Grimm yells out as he gets out of his chair again, the girl next to him grabbing his wrist to pull him back down. “What the hell is he doing?” he asks as he turns to her.

I see the assistant poke her head through the door, saying, “I’m sorry. Only the prince for now.”

I hear shifting and my eyes dart back to Dahrian, who’s not leaning against the wall anymore. He’s standing with his arms flung to his sides, looking menacing as fuck.

Still, he just keeps standing there.

A couple of minutes of almost total silence and I hear the door open again.

“Thank you,” Max says as he walks out. “And yes, I’ll get right on it.”

And as he moves to leave the room, he throws a glance at Dahrian, smirking, and I see Dahrian grit his teeth.

For a moment, I think he’ll lunge, but the next, he’s back to leaning against the wall, staring ahead.

Max keeps walking and smirking, only throwing me a glance in passing, but coupled with the tip of his head to the door, it lets me know he thinks it’s time for that little chat, as he said earlier.

And the very thought of it makes my fucking stomach twist and I do hesitate for a couple of long moments.

But it seems like an overall idiotic idea, to not even try to find out what he wants from me.

So I get up and I do try not to attract too much attention, but of course it’s this time that that fucking Howe looks in my direction.

This funny, angry little squint, he throws me, as I fight not to run the fuck out of the room.

***

I find Max waiting for me outside the Tower.

To my surprise, he’s no longer smirking. In fact, the look in his eyes is downright soft. And as soon as I come to a stop in front of him, it’s in a gentle voice that he says, “Your brother will be fine.”

“I know, I’ve made sure of it,” I snap. “What do you want?”

“Just to talk about what happened.”

And he motions at the path leading to one of the little groves with a bench inside.

“What’s it to you?” I ask, not trying at all to make my voice less harsh as I force myself to fall into step with him. “We’re not together anymore.”

“I care about you, cupcake,” he says simply. “And I know this is not you.”

I can’t believe that he’d use the nickname once again, but that’s not what really bothers me. “This is not me?” I snap. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Getting involved with a guy like that?” He clicks his tongue. “Come on, you used to have principles, ambition, good taste...”

Guy like that? “Let’s make one thing clear,” I drawl as I keep walking after him. “It’s not your fucking business, who I choose to fuck.”

He turns to look at me. “Fuck?” He stops just as we reach the little grove, making me follow suit.

“Anastasya…” And his face turns serious as he says, slowly as if to a half-wit, “I just found you getting railed. In some filthy classroom. Minutes before the Game.”

I feel blood rush to my cheeks, but he doesn’t wait for a reaction. His eyes narrowing, he asks, “That’s… normal to you?”

“What if it is?” I snap at him.

“Fuck me harder, huh?” he replies as he gets in my face, his nostrils now flaring.

I ball my hands into fists, my mind threatening to implode at the very thought of him having heard that.

“And don’t you think,” he drawls as he lifts a finger at me, “even for a second, that I didn’t hear the filth you let him spew into your ear.”

It makes me want to snap his fucking neck. “Let me guess,” I rush to jump in, fighting not to start fucking yelling, “the moment we finish this conversation, you’ll be running to my mother with that?”

To my surprise, he shoots me a confused look, taking a step back as he slides his hands into his pockets.

“No, I won’t be telling anyone,” he says in a lower, more serious voice, making my eyebrows shoot up. “I’ll keep it all to myself and I’ll give you a little time to think. Really think about your future and how you imagine it.” He pauses for a second. “You know what I think will happen when you do?”

I let out an angry scoff. “Please, tell me.”

“You’ll come to realize, Anastasya,” he keeps going, ignoring my tone, “that you’ve let some lowlife mess with your brain and wreak absolute havoc in your entire life.”

For a second, I just blink at him, scrambling to find something to snap back and finding… nothing.

He takes a deep breath, gets a little closer and gently takes my wrist in his hand, “But you’ll also come to realize you’re much luckier than you ever even knew.”

“Really?” I drawl mockingly, still so pissed but starting to feel so much more confused as well.

“Yes, really,” he insists as he takes my hand in his. “Because I love you, cupcake. And I’m a forgiving man. Despite everything that’s happened — and there’s been a lot, mind you…” He pauses to give me an even softer look. “I’m still here, waiting for you to snap out of it and come back to me.”

Fuming, I break my hand free. For a second, I consider getting into it, but the very thought makes me feel a flood of fatigue.

And he just gives my upper arm a little squeeze, throws me another warm smile, turns on his heel and walks away.

For a second, I just keep standing there, watching him leave. Am I going fucking crazy? It is true that he witnessed me go ballistic on him for trying to help, right before he found the two of us like that, when we should’ve already been at the Game.

And that’s just today. I can’t let myself forget about my despicable behavior with Ricky the night before last. Feeling a scream coming on, I dart into the grove and I throw myself onto the stone bench.

But I don’t get even a moment of peace before my eyes dart to the opening and I see him walk in.

Dahrian.

A pissed off look on his face if ever I saw it.

Chapter 28 - Dahrian

As soon as I walk in, her eyes dart up to me and I feel myself start to unravel.

I inhale deeply, my hands balling into fists and my teeth gritting, and I start walking up to her.

This is your last chance, boy, my fox warns from the shadows. Just tell her how you feel and let’s be done with it, please.

“Oh, that’s exactly what I’m doing,” I say with this nasty little smile.

And I enjoy it, when I see her stiffen, fighting not to frown.

“Cupcake, huh?” I ask when I come to stand in front of her, my arms folding, my voice clear and flat despite this thrumming in my chest.

She gets up off the bench, now actually frowning. “You eavesdropped?”

I just look at her for a second. “You’re right,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and proceeding in a mocking voice. “I should’ve just waited for you to be done with Prince Charming, gotten him drunk, manipulated him into answering all my questions… Right?”

And I stare deeper into her eyes, my teeth gritting and my nostrils flaring.

For a second, she just looks at me, her face flushing with shame. “You said it was fine,” she finally urges.

I find myself taking an angry step closer. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” I say through gritted teeth, fighting this urge to grab her, “because you just went and made it so much fucking worse.“

And I keep standing there, holding my breath and looking at her looking at me in wonder.

“What the fuck’re you talking about?” she demands, narrowing her eyes at me.

It makes me let out a frustrated laugh, running my hand over my face so I can have a second without having to look into those eyes.

“This thing right here?” I say, in a relatively flat voice, when I lock eyes with her again. “You and I? Haven’t I made it clear as fucking day,” I demand, having to fight not to raise my voice, “I only ever do casual?”

For a second, she just looks at me with a pale face. Then she shakes her head. “You did,” she replies with a frown, “and I’m fine with that, really. Look,” she keeps going in a more rushed voice, not allowing me to jump in and trying to lock eyes with me again. “I’m genuinely sorry, once again, for disrespecting your privacy the other day, but I did promise—”

It makes the image of her hair spilled over my chest and her leg thrown over me flash through my mind, filling me with such burning hot rage that I barely stop myself from yelling.

I get in her face.“My privacy?” I echo with a bitter laugh. “It’s not even remotely possible to have anything like that with entire fleets,” I spit out, my face twisting in anger and my voice turning rushed and mocking, “of your family members constantly buzzing around, poking and prodding, whispering and throwing glances—”

Frowning, she takes a step back, folds her arms and cuts in, “You don’t have to have anything to do with my family.”

“Really?” I drawl, mirroring her by taking a step back and folding my arms. “So it didn’t just happen, your ex walking in on us?”

She flings her arms down to her sides in anger. “It was you who texted me—”

“No no,” I cut her off, starting to pace up and down, nodding vigorously, “this really is my fault. I should’ve listened to Ricky when he said you were too complicated for someone like me.”

I come to a stop, seeing her squinting at me. “I just didn’t see it at the time,” I say with poison in my voice, “what this thing between us really is.”

And I’m just waiting for her to bite.

So when she asks, teeth gritting and nostrils flaring, “And what is it that you think it is?”

I jump straight in, stalking a little closer, narrowing my eyes at her and saying in a bitter little whisper, “A princess’s temper tantrum.”

“A princess’s temper tantrum?” she echoes angrily, taking a step back. “You are not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair?” I snap back with a laugh, starting to pace again. “I wanted something fun and casual, and I thought I was getting something fun and casual. When, in fact, I was letting myself become a prop in a royal fucking will-they-won’t-they.”

I blow a breath through my nose and come to a stop, fixing my eyes on hers. “It’s just that we all know how it’s going to end.”

She marches up to me, balling her hands into fists, and spits out, “You’re talking as if I’m getting back with him. I’m not.”

I let out a frustrated laugh. “Oh you’re not?” I drawl. “So that was you saying no I just saw?” I ask as I motion at the entrance into the grove, where the two of them had their little chat.

And she opens her mouth to say something, but I’m fuming all of a sudden and I’m grabbing her by the wrist and getting in her face, forcing her to keep her eyes on me as I growl through gritted teeth, “Or was it you saying absolutely fucking nothing, just standing there, giving him exactly what he wants, preparing for a lifetime of that bullshit?”

She breaks her arm free, her frown disappearing as she retreats a little, again. She just looks at me for a second and says, in a softer voice that makes my muscles start relaxing a bit, “That’s not why I wasn’t saying anything. I’m never getting back with him. But there was so much going on in my head and I was so angry with him—”

That makes me fucking snap. I lunge at her and I jab a finger in the air in front of her face and I yell, at the top of my lungs, “Don’t you fucking talk to me about your feelings for your ex.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

And I see the flash of surprise in her eyes and the way she pulls away, tension in her muscles.

Quickly, I take a step back and I steady my breathing and I see her relax, but it’s over because I’ve let it through already, so the rest just comes pouring out.

“Drama,” I spit out, planting my feet firmly in the ground and watching her eyebrows pull down. “It’s all fucking drama. And it’s not really your fault, I guess. It’s who you are. You’re a lot, and you’re like that all the fucking time. It’s exactly the kind of thing I try to avoid.”

And I see this thing, something, flash through her face at those words, but I’m already letting out a bitter little scoff, waving my arms around and saying, “But hey, now I know better, right?”

And she just stands there, staring at me with this indecipherable look in her eyes. Nothing, she gives me nothing.

“And there’s a silver lining in it for you, too,” I say through gritted teeth, failing to resist the overwhelming urge to get a reaction. “At least you’ll no longer have some lowlife in your life, cupcake.”

Nothing. Just her breathing having become heavier.

It makes me fucking lose it. I march up to her, I get in her face and I snap, “I want you to lose my number, Romanov. I mean it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

This time, I don’t wait for a reaction. I turn on my heel and I start marching away, straight for the camp.

And it’s so strange, this feeling that’s flooding me. Like something at the same time breaking and swelling to enormous proportions, like a tsunami crashing to the ground inside me.

And by the time I’m jumping onto the plateau, my actual vision is blurring with rage, and of course it’s then that I spot them, the little shits, sprawled on the chairs around one of the firepits, drinking champagne out of fancy glasses from their crappy makeshift bar.

Without giving it a second of thought, I inhale angrily and I walk up to them, their content chatter stopping as soon as their eyes land on me.

And they all throw me smiles, O’Malley saying, “Just in time, Boss. Fiona was about to—”

“Didn’t I say,” I start, slowly and in a low growl, making him immediately stop talking, “there’d be no more drinking during the day?”

Everyone’s smiles slide off their faces.

And I turn to Gleason, who’s standing next to the makeshift bar, and I pin him in place with my stare.

“You did, Boss,” he mutters, moving to set his glass down.

“So what the fuck is this?” I demand in a low snarl, making him freeze as I tip my head at the bar. “Huh?”

And I let my eyes sweep over the rest of them, all motionless and watching my every move, and I bend and I lift the fucking bar off the ground and I slam it back down, with such needless force, it breaks into a million pieces, the sounds of breaking getting switched out for total fucking silence.

I let the silence drag on for a moment, shooting the tongue-tied scaredy cats another warning look, before I push past them and head straight for my tent.

But it doesn’t help. My anger doesn’t die down, not even a little, so when I find myself alone, in front of the mirror above the sink, I’m still practically panting.

And there, in my reflection, in my eyes, I see my fox’s. And they’re burning hot, like I always imagined them.

But then, the light flickers and goes out, and for a second, it makes me feel a kind of dread I’ve never felt in my life.

Before it all gets swept under some rug and I’m exhaling, letting out a scoff and turning away from the mirror as this strange, feverish numbness starts flooding my entire being.

Chapter 29 - Nyx

I’m running, breathless and terrified, trees whizzing past me as I keep stumbling over corpses, men with blown skulls and horses with broken bodies. A battlefield, but I don’t know when the battle happened, what it was all for, or whether I’m running towards salvation or damnation. It seems to go on for an eternity, until I find myself barging out of the woods and coming to a stop at the edge of a boundless clearing, everything turning peaceful in an instant. It takes me a second, but then I realize it’s not grass I have before me, it’s water, and there’s this sound steadily drawing closer, making warmth spread through my chest and my heart throb in anticipation. Soft, playful whistling echoing off the lake. But it never does get closer and I turn around to see what’s taking so long, but what I find when I do is a pair of eyes like two burning coals and there’s a mouth with sharp teeth opening to swallow me and I’m stumbling back, falling into ice cold water as I hear a loud thud.

It makes me wake up, abruptly, a ball hitting my window from down below. I groan, peeling my cheek off the page of the book I fell asleep over. And I get up off my desk, every bone in my body aching, and there’s this moment of intense thrill as I come to stand next to my window, thinking the ball was thrown for the specific purpose of getting me to look out.

But all I see are a dozen or so of Grimm shifters playing a game of Shifter Balls, the matches only getting more unruly the closer we get to the close of the school year.

And right now, there’s only two weeks to go until June 21st — the last day of school, the Fifth Game, the Grand Ball…

And my heart sinks low into my stomach and a knife twists in my gut, as soon as the last remnants of the dream dissipate and it all comes back to me, in a merciless flood of memories, like every fucking morning for the past two weeks — the night in my room, my visit to a certain tent, fucking F12, the fox coming at me, and worst of all, deleting a certain someone’s number.

Swallowing the bitterness, I turn away from the window. And I don’t just swat all the memories away. I squish them and I move to return to my book, the one I spent the whole night reading in the hopes of solving the puzzle of Brogan trying to use the Box and failing miserably.

But before I do, my eye gets drawn to my bed, on top of which I find two presents.

It makes me frown. It’s Nikolay’s birthday today, not mine, and these past two weeks, Max has been sending me one present a day, never more.

I walk up to the bed and I open the first one. An assortment of luxury bath salts with a note saying, “Anastasya, darling, my sincerest thanks for helping with Nikolay’s birthday. Love, Mother.”

For a second, it leaves me confused, that she’d do something as thoughtful as this. Then it hits me. She’s only looking to get me in a good mood for tonight.

Because she’s invited Max, of course.

And when I open the second present, there it is. The box of custom-made chocolates, this time all in the shape of cute little cupcakes, with the note saying, “Looking forward to seeing you tonight, cupcake. Love, Max.”

I throw it on the pile with his other presents. Stuck in a haze, I haven’t replied to any of his little notes so far. It’s been two weeks since our last conversation, the one right after the Fourth Game. But instead of figuring out how I feel about it all, I’ve only gotten more confused.

As I keep looking at the presents, like a charm, the numbness starts to take over. Ever since it all happened, I haven’t been able to find meaning in anything that mattered to me before, this hollowness following me wherever I go. And I’ve actually been welcoming it, the nothingness growing inside me, swallowing up the issues of the broken engagement, the family’s status, the land…

So I tear my eyes away from the presents, I breathe a sigh of relief and I go to get under the shower, put on my training clothes and move on with my day.

***

Wearing tights and a training bra that can pass for a top, I rush down the stairs and into the Common Room, where both Nikolay and Hilde are having their morning coffee in our spot.

I take a deep breath and I walk up to them, rummaging through my bag to get the present.

“Morning, Nyx,” Hilde greets me with the now habitual excessively warm tone loaded with unspoken questions.

As usual, I ignore it. “Morning, Hilde,” I say, joylessly but politely, as I hold the present out to my brother. “Happy birthday, Nick,” I breathe out, going soft at the last second and choosing the nickname instead of the full name.

It is his special day after all.

And I see him hesitate for a second, but we are moving away from not speaking with each other at all. So he takes the present in his hand and says, “Thank you, Anastasya.”

And he does make a point of using my full name and being a little cold, but then a little smile tugs at his lips, and just as I lower myself into my armchair, he gives the present back and adds, a little less coldly this time, “I’ll be taking my presents in the evening.” He clears his throat, a flash of excitement flicking through his eyes. “I want them all in one giant pile, you know?”

“Of course,” I say, feeling Hilde’s eyes on me and having to fight the urge to shoot her a nasty look.

But it’s then that I notice my brother’s in his regular clothes. “I thought I’d find you in a suit?” I ask, frowning a little.

That seems to confuse him. He cranes his neck to look out the window, saying, “Isn’t it early fucking morning?”

“Of course it is, silly,” I hear Hilde say.

“The meeting, Nikolay,” I remind him, without looking at Hilde, my voice a little harsher than I’d like it. “About the land.”

I guess there’s still a part of me that cares.

“Ah,” he says as he turns to throw me a little squint. And we’re back to being cold. “Got pushed a little,” he explains as he starts to avoid my eye. “No big deal. We’re a quick signature away.”

And he rubs his temples a little, the way he’s been doing ever since he got attacked by the Archon, despite no actual damage having been done.

But it works. Makes me feel bad. And I have decided to finally let the family take care of the whole thing anyway, so I say, “Great,” a little more warmly. “Sounds great.”

“Great,” he echoes as he turns his eyes back onto me, his gaze lingering and searching for a second before it softens.

“I just have to say I’m so happy for you all,” Hilde says and I turn to look at her, trying my hardest not to straight out ignore her despite her entire fucking being having become so grating to me, it’s one of the few things that can snap me out of my numbness.

“Thanks, Hilde,” I force myself to say.

“Hey, sis,” Nikolay starts, surprising me with the pet name.

I nudge him to talk.

“You going to Byrne’s class later?”

I nod.

“Would you mind submitting my paper for me? I’ll send it to you to print out.”

For a second, I hesitate. Then I bite my tongue and I nod. “Sure.” And I move to get up. “I’ll see you two later then.”

It’s Hilde’s hand on my forearm that stops me. “You’re not going to the cafeteria with us?”

I slink away from her touch, grabbing my bag off the floor and slinging it over my shoulder. “We have the finals just around the corner,” I say, simply.

“Bloody hell, sis,” Nikolay says with a rough little laugh. “Where would I be if I studied as hard as you?”

I don’t say anything. I just throw them both a half-smile and I walk away.

But she doesn’t let me get far. It’s just as I reach the staircase that I hear her call out, “Nyx.”

I stop midstep, I take a deep breath and I turn to face her just as she comes to a stop in front of me.

Then she just stands there, looking at me like I’m some circus freak. “Yes, Hilde?” I ask, fighting not to grit my teeth.

“You’ve barely talked to us for the past, like, two f-ing weeks,” she finally says. “Are you mad at me? Or Nikolay? Or both of us?”

I press my lips tight before I choose to say, “No. I’m just ready for the summer break to start.”

To my surprise, that makes a spark appear in her eyes. “Tell me about it,” she says with a breathy laugh. “We’ve only got two weeks left and Professor Byrne’s drowning us in homework as if we had months. But I am looking forward to the last game, I have to say. I mean, only six players left and a lot of people betting on you… You must be thrilled as well.”

For a second, I just look at her in silence, watching the frown reappear on her face. Then I just say, “Yeah.” And I turn on my heel and I start rushing down the stairs.

And I’m not going to the Library to prepare for the finals, as I implied. Sure, I had a hard time my first year here, having just been shaken out of years of depression. But ever since, this school’s been a fucking joke.

So today, I think as I barge out of Lilith Tower and onto the hot summer day outside, I’ll first be blowing off some steam at the training ground and then going to Vasilisa, to keep preparing for the only thing in my life right now that’s not a complete fucking joke.

The fast approaching Fifth Game and the potential fucking chaos it might wreak.

***

By the time I get to Vasilisa’s room, I’m in a different mood. I still have sweat clinging to my skin from all the training I did, of which I’ve been doing a lot more than usual, but there’s this lightness in my muscles and clearness in my head that almost make me believe that one day, I’ll stop feeling the way I’m feeling right now.

Still, I choose to take a minute after I close the door and before I call for her. I sit on the floor, my spine perfectly straight and my eyes fixed ahead, and I try to just be for a minute.

Right now, Vasilisa’s room is the only one I can feel really comfortable in. Where I’m not constantly watched or asked stupid questions or reminded of things I just want to forget. And that’s exactly why I have my lunch here with me, waiting for me in my bag, and why I’ve set up an extra altar for myself under her portrait, and why I’ve been coming here, every day, for the past two weeks.

And it’s starting to have that effect on me right now, easing the tension, deepening my breathing, clearing my thoughts.

So, right now, this is the situation, I start, my eyebrows pulling down in focus.

The Archon has been in custody ever since it happened.

No one knows exactly where and no one knows in what conditions.

But the real head-scratcher is that no one knows why exactly. Sure, she used her connection to the Box to stop the Game and then try to do something with it. But, I mean…

What was the plan?

There was nothing about the way she did it that indicated any kind of strategy.

To top it all off, while they’re still keeping the previous Archon imprisoned, the Academy is appointing the mediocre Professor Byrne as the new one and making it seem that the Fifth Game, the very last one, will still be held on June 21st, as planned.

I let out a scoff, my eyes darting to the portrait. And she, I think as I fix them on Vasilisa, the goddamn great-great-grandmother who’s supposed to serve as some kind of mentor here, what does she have to say about it?

She’s no idea what’s going on, but I should be really careful.

Yeah, right, I think as images flash through my mind — of those Fiains screaming as the balls were exploring in their faces, of Ricky all bloodied in that dungeon, of the terrified look in Nikolay’s eyes after the last Game, of the fox…

Which, of course, makes the words all come back.

“You’re a lot, and you’re like that all the fucking time.”

They always take my breath away, threatening to drag me to some even darker place.

And that’s exactly why I don’t let them live inside my head.

Gritting my teeth, I decide to shrug it off and focus on the only thing I can do right now.

Practice Blood Magic with her.

I stand up. “Vasilisa,” I call out.

And she jumps out of the painting, as usual landing without making a sound and throwing me a little smirk. “Any news?” she asks as she gets into position, coming to stand right opposite me.

“No,” I say as I take the knife out of my holster, soften my knees, swing my torso a little to the side and get my hand into the position to throw.

“Pity,” she replies. Folding her arms, she looks at my knife and orders, lazily yet in a tone that downright compels, making me picture her in a battle with countless soldiers charging at her command, “Left eye.”

I fling the knife straight through her left eye and use my Blood Magic to get it back.

“Right knee.”

I hit her right knee.

“Heart.”

I stab her straight through the heart.

She nods and says, “Good, now the marbles.”

I get the crystallized blood marbles out of my bag and I lay them on the floor in front of me.

Standing straighter, but looking down at them, I take a deep breath and I close my eyes, trying to make my nose fix on the scent and my mind make the connection.

And I can feel it when I manage to make one of them lift off the ground and up into the air, and, as usual, it gives me this thrill I can’t quite describe. Like, all my life I’ve been traveling down one and the same stream and now I’m in a completely different one, the sensation at the same time familiar and strange.

But then, then it births this sudden aggressiveness that always makes my eyebrows pull down and my control start slipping away.

And if I had it my way, I’d take a lot more time with it, but I can already hear the insanely easily bored old witch huffing and puffing.

“Fine, I’m ready,” I snap, feeling my cheeks burn in anger.

“Forehead,” she orders.

And I fling my eyes open and I focus them on her forehead, but the marble just goes through her chest and falls on the floor, making a strangely musical sound while rolling away.

I grit my teeth, feeling all the suppressed emotions starting to surface.

Vasilisa just rolls her eyes at me. “You know what ‘forehead’ means, girl?”

For a second, I just throw daggers at her. It makes me want to snap her fucking neck. Without thinking, I grab my lunchbox off the floor and I fling it at her, letting out a frustrated groan as it whizzes right through her, comes crashing into the wall behind her and spills its guts, that is, my food, all over the floor.

Panting, I turn my eyes back to Vasilisa, expecting to see an angry face.

I find her stalking towards me with amusement on her face. “Oh I like that,” she drawls in this mocking little voice. And she comes to lean in and whisper with this devious little look on her face, “Do it again, just harder.”

“You fucking animal,” I snap at her at the same moment she starts laughing like crazy, as if my face is so terribly amusing right now.

“For fuck’s sake,” I yell, slamming my fists into my head and starting to let all the pent-up anger come crashing through the gates. “Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?” I demand as I swing my arms back down and throw her a nasty stare.

I see her quickly turn serious. “And you know what your problem with Blood Magic is, girl?”

“What,” I hiss as I use my mind to get the marbles off the floor, fling them into the air and make them burst into a million fucking pieces, seeing Vasilisa’s eyebrows shoot up before having to shield my eyes from the tiny shards.

But once it’s safe, I just lunge at her, and I make her take a step back even though she doesn’t have to because she’s some kind of fucking ghost, and I say through gritted teeth, “My problem? I dare you to tell me what it is.”

For a second, she just squints at me. “Too many scruples and not enough anger,” she says flatly. Then she throws me a weird little smile and says, a mix of amusement and pride in her voice, “But I see you’re working on that.”

“Well,” I blurt out, starting to feel my anger dying down and my breathing getting back to normal, “sorry.”

And she lets out a little scoff, making it clear that I’ve just unearned myself that little look of pride.

But I don’t linger on it, because my eyes dart straight to my lunch lying on the floor. And I let out a dragged out moan and I shake my head, saying, “I can’t fucking believe you. Now, if I want to eat, I have to go to the fucking cafeteria.”

And I turn to throw her a nasty look. “Where there’s people.”

***

I breathe a sigh of relief when I walk through the archway and see that the cafeteria is only moderately crowded, most students having their lunch out in the gardens.

But when I take my seat and start digging in, I soon realize I’ve found myself a listener in a private conversation between a buff fae guy and a gorgeous shifter girl at the table next to me.

“Just one more date, that’s all I ask,” I hear as I stab a couple of fries with my fork.

“I’m being serious, James. I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace.”

“And yesterday you were?”

And I try not to listen, but they’re being too loud for their own good. So I start thinking about switching seats, glancing around to see that there are quite a few empty tables.

“Well, things change,” I hear her tell him. “I have a busy life. No time for fooling around right now.”

Letting out a sigh, I move to start packing up, but then I hear them start getting up and I breathe a sigh of relief, slumping back into my chair.

“You won’t even eat with me?” he asks as they both come into my line of sight, the serving counter with the queue of incoming students right behind them.

“No,” the girl tells him as she raises a palm between the two of them. “Just… don’t.”

And she goes to stand in line, alone, while the guy goes back to the table, seemingly seething.

I tear my eyes away, making myself focus on eating so I can get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. It’s not without reason that I’ve been spending these first summer days locked up in a dark tower with Vasilisa.

I can’t stand being around people right now, listening to them talk about the finals, the food, the sports, the clothes, the concerts and all the other shit that doesn’t sound utterly pointless and grating if and only if you’re not on the very brink of unraveling.

So when I hear the already familiar banter, laughter and confident footsteps coming from the Entrance Hall, signaling the arrival of the Pack…

I instantly freeze, my heart throbbing like it’s trying to get out of my chest and fly away.

Please, I think as I grip my fork and close my eyes shut for a moment, please don’t let him be among them. I’ve managed to avoid him so far, just two more weeks and that’s it. Please, I almost start muttering to myself.

But when I open my eyes, who do I see but him, sauntering into the cafeteria at the head of a dozen boys and girls from his pack, all looking as if they’re having the time of their life.

And I rush to lower my eyes, but I still catch his for a second, and there’s a flash of a frown on his face before he looks away as if he hasn’t even seen me, going straight for the queue for the serving counters.

And at the very same time, I breathe a sigh of relief and feel myself start simmering. So I focus on steadying my breathing and trying to decide whether I should just leave the rest of the food or maybe try to quickly pack it up to go somehow, my stomach grumbling.

But before my stupid mind manages to make a decision, I hear a low wolf whistle, the sound of which has been burned into my very brain, and my eyes snap up and I see him standing right behind that beautiful shifter girl, eyeing her up and down as she keeps moving in the queue, glancing over her shoulder at him as if she’s not exactly minding the attention.

And I’m gripping my fork so tight, my knuckles must be white as bone, but I can’t make myself look away. And I can't stop myself from using my hearing to eavesdrop.

Because now, the rest of his pack starting to chat amongst themselves, he seems to be rushing to grab everything she reaches for before she can get it for herself, making her start shaking her head at him with a flush and an incredulous smile.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands, playfully, when he does it for the fourth time.

He throws her a look of feigned surprise, pushing his chest out a little. “Getting your attention,” he replies matter-of-factly. “What else?” And he throws her one of those disarming grins of his, followed by a lazy, sexy little wink.

And she gives in, like, completely. She leans in to whisper, a flirty smile on her lips, “Well, then I guess you owe me lunch, don’t you?”

His mouth cracks into a grin and he looks over his shoulder and at his pack, saying, “Guess you’re on your own, boys and girls.”

And he grabs both of their trays, throws the girl another smile and starts leading her to one of the empty tables, making me quickly lower my eyes, feeling as if I’m about to jump out of my fucking skin.

But then there’s that guy, the one the girl blew off, coming into my line of sight and making me look back up because he seems to be headed straight towards them.

And it makes me fail to resist the urge to use my hearing when I see him come to block Howe’s way. The girl stops as well, throwing him a pissed-off look.

“You know,” the guy says in a threatening, but relatively low voice, “you should stick to your own.”

Here we go again, I think with an internal sigh. Now, right after he’s won over the girl, that fucking Howe will win over her little boy toy as well, making me doubly pissed-off.

But then, instead of that mouth cracking into a friendly grin, I see his lips tug into a nasty little smile as he holds the trays out to his right, one of his pack immediately appearing to take them.

I frown as I watch him slide his hands into his pockets and take a step closer, making the guy double back.

“What did you just say to me?” he asks in a steady voice that booms over the cafeteria, making the chatter die down and heads snap in their direction.

The guy glances around nervously, now forced to raise his voice as well. “I said, you have plenty of your own,” he drawls. “So leave Grimm girls alone.”

Howe lets out a snicker. “And if I don’t? Please…” And he leans a little closer to give the guy another nasty smile. “Tell me.”

Taking a deep, angry breath, the guy retreats a step, taps his Runes and then flicks two fingers of his right hand upwards. I see a stone piece the size of a football get loose from the floor and fly up.

As I watch it hover, I struggle to understand why Howe’s just standing there. But it only does so for a second before it slams straight into his chest, making him stumble back and producing this sound that makes me wince.

The stone falls to the ground and for a second, there’s only silence, and I’m holding my breath, watching Howe grimacing, with his eyes shut, in what must be excruciating pain.

Then he opens his eyes, puts that nasty smile back on his face and picks the stone up off the ground, as if nothing happened. And he starts turning it in his hands, as if he’s having fun with it, until he stops, abruptly, looks the guy straight in the eye, lets go of the stone and then slams the palms of his hands into its sides, his tattoos emitting this faint glow and the stone producing this sound like a mini explosion as it crumbles to the ground.

He just crushes the goddamn stone.

And then he walks up to the guy, who’s obviously in shock, and leans to tell him, making sure everyone can hear him, “Here’s a shocking revelation.”

He takes the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifts him off the ground and slams him into the column to his right.

“Who should leave Grimm girls alone,” he hums, but the sound is menacing, “that’s entirely up to, well, Grimm girls, now isn’t it?”

And then he lets the guy drop to the ground, turning back to his pack.

“Why didn’t you fucking do anything?” I hear the guy ask, and I turn to see him getting up, shooting this blond fae guy in the audience a nasty look.

“You started it, man,” the fae answers, referring to our policy of letting people who start fights finish their fights as well.

“That doesn’t apply to foreign trash,” the guy snaps back.

But that makes Howe appear back in front of him. “Foreign trash?” he drawls mockingly. “Well now you’re hurting my feelings.”

Fuck, I think to myself even before he motions to his pack and like a trained army, they almost instantly surround the guy, grab him by all his limbs and pin him to the ground with his legs spread apart.

Slowly, Howe comes to tower over him, his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as if he’s only mildly amused.

“Please don’t,” I hear the guy whimper.

“Shh,” Howe starts, the tip of his left boot coming to press on the guy’s crotch. “It’s rocks you play with, right?” He pauses for a second before he says in a near whisper. “Just picture yourself being one.”

And it’s at that moment that I just can’t take it anymore. I get up, my chair scraping against the floor, and I hear Howe blow a laugh through his nose, telling the guy, “Go on, you’re no fun at all.”

But I’m already running out of the cafeteria, my mind buzzing as this bitterness starts flooding my mouth.

***

It’s with unseeing eyes that I keep sitting there, watching my brother open his presents in the Grand Hall of our Summer Palace, surrounded by a hundred or so blood relatives, friends and sycophants. And all the polished candlesticks have been lit and all the marble columns decorated with wreaths and all the tables set with the finest foods and drinks you can come by in our lands.

But I’m sticking to the outermost table, away from the crowd, the one with the view through the French doors and into the garden, only sipping on my champagne and not even touching the food.

Despite my decision to simply not think about these things anymore, my mind keeps going back to the incident in the cafeteria today, trying to explain this sudden change in a certain someone’s personality. From calm to aggressive, from friendly to vindictive.

Or maybe it’s not a change at all. Maybe I just haven’t seen him in situations like these before.

But whatever the explanation and no matter how hard it is to swallow, maybe they were right. Maybe Max was right. He’s not someone I should ever have been more than polite with.

“Bloody hell,” Nikolay yells, making me feel grateful for this interruption in my train of thoughts as my eyes snap back to him holding something small in his hands. “Thanks, Lord Pfenning.”

I frown, the sight of the old lord making me think of all the spats I’ve been forced to witness throughout the course of my life — about titles, investments, lands…

And it makes me start contemplating Vasilisa and her methods again. Once upon a time, I think to myself, all the distinguished families gathered here were ordinary families. Until they decided to become more than that. And now they wield such tremendous power only to waste it on bickering over the most inconsequential things.

But if you took them out of the equation… Or if you took yourself out of the equation, I think to myself as entire worlds start exploding in my mind, different than anything I’ve ever known. It would mean such freedom to start from scratch, it’s hard to even contemplate.

And it’s not like things like that haven’t been done before.

It’s at that moment that I see Aunt Frieda separate from the crowd and come over to my table, snapping me out of it. I glance at the petit fours on the three-tiered silver cake stand in front of me and I know exactly what she’s coming for and I know exactly what she’ll say.

“Aren’t these petit flowers to die for, dear?” she says as she comes to stand in front of me, lifting a piece with two shriveled yet delicate fingers.

Petit fours, I think to myself. Fours, not flowers. “You couldn’t have said it better, Aunt Frieda,” I tell her, having long ago given up on the quest of teaching her what the word really is.

And I throw her a smile and she throws one back, but all of a sudden, I feel so desolate, thinking this is how I’ll spend the next Lilith knows how many years of my life, knowing exactly what Aunt Frieda will say and about what.

And just as she turns to walk back into the crowd, I see Max doing the opposite.

It makes me frown when I see he’s headed straight towards me, despite having been expecting him to come talk to me the entire evening.

“Hello, cupcake,” he greets with a smile as he comes to stand before me, clad in an impeccable white suit.

“Hi, Max,” I say, trying not to sound too cold. After all, he’s been nothing but nice to me.

“Isn’t it a lovely evening?”

“It is.”

“Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me?”

For a second, I just look at him, still feeling like I just don’t have it in me, to talk to anyone, let alone him. I seem to no longer know who I am, what I want, what’s wrong with me… What could I tell him?

But it’s so soft and warm, the look he’s throwing me, and I find myself unable to refuse. “Sure,” I say as I get up.

And we walk through the French door and into the garden, the night air fragrant and the towering cypresses barely visible against the rich midnight-blue sky.

We start down the gravel path leading through two rows of blooming hyacinths and straight for the fountain.

For a couple of minutes, we just keep walking in silence, his elbow grazing mine every once in a while, making me remember other little walks like this. Walks we used to take when we first started dating. And it makes me long for that simplicity — the touch, the silence, the night sky above us.

Then he stops, snaps a flower off a hyacinth bush and holds it out for me with a smile. “A flower for the lady.”

And I’ve no idea why, but it makes me cringe, what he says and the way he says it, snapping me out of longing for the old days.

I take the flower and I keep walking, scrambling to find something to grab on to as he falls into step with me. And of course, it being top of mind, what I find is the topic of the mysterious Archon and the even more mysterious events of the Fourth Game, of which the Academy doesn’t seem to want to breathe a word.

“What was it that the Pied Piper tasked you with that day?” I ask.

He glances at me.

“Oh, that’s both inconsequential and long forgotten,” he replies matter-of-factly, making me have to stop myself from letting out a frustrated sigh.

And we keep walking, and the closer we draw to the fountain, the more the sound of water ripples through the balmy night air, creating a soothing, magical atmosphere. But the more I’m aware of it, the more I feel this painful longing, the more painful for being futile.

Then, just as we get to the fountain, Max stops and turns to face me, making me stop as well. “Now, cupcake, I want to be honest with you,” he says, sweetly, as he catches my eye. “I’m not here to celebrate your brother’s birthday.”

“Really?”

“No need to be snarky, Anastasya,” he snaps a little, but quickly collects himself. “I’m trying to apologize.”

It’s enough to make me feel bad. “Go ahead then.”

He clears his throat. “When you broke off our engagement,” he starts, his voice growing soft again, but apologetic as well, “I won’t lie, I spent a few months wanting to hurt you for what you did.”

It renders me speechless, what he says. It’s not what I’d expect.

He just looks at me for a second, warmly. “Then I realized… The only reason I felt that way was my love for you.” He presses his lips tight. “And, well, it was the incident before the Fourth Game that helped open my eyes.”

And all of a sudden, there’s this flood of images pouring into my brain, those I keep shut out at all costs, of a certain someone’s back as he refuses to let me close the distance, of the pissed-off look on his face as he tells me what he really thinks of me. But what hurts the most is the image of him looking at me with a smile on his face.

I make myself snap out of it and turn my focus back onto Max, but when I finally speak, the words are rushed and breathless. “Get to the point, please.”

“The point is,” he starts, gently, “someone else would’ve crossed you off that same second.”

I have to fight the urge to shake my head in an attempt not to let the words cause another flood of images.

“The majority would,” he keeps going, more fervently by the second. And now he’s taking my hand in his, trying to catch my eye again as I struggle to keep my focus on him. “But I didn’t. I think I’ve shown I’m a good man, Anastasya, a good man who loves you from the bottom of his heart, despite everything.”

I lock eyes with him, my eyebrows pulling down. Because, all of a sudden, I’m realizing where this little speech is headed.

“Look, Max,” I force myself to start, wanting to beat him to it, “you really have only been good to me, but I—”

“Exactly,” he cuts in with determination in his voice. “I’ve only been good to you, and it’s obvious, cupcake, that you’re not well.”

The remark makes blood rush to my face, but it’s warm, the way he says it, and I don’t think I have any right to hold it against him, at least not after everything that’s happened.

So I just shake my head. “Please, let’s not get into it.”

“We don’t have to,” he urges, tightening his grip on my wrist. “Whatever you’re going through, it’ll pass,” he says.

And it’s in a near whisper that he does, but with such determination in his voice that I find myself staring into his eyes, burning with the need for it to be true, what he’s telling me.

And I don’t say anything, but that only makes him more determined. “You’ll get well again, and I’ll do whatever it is in my power to help you. You only need to say yes, what you already did before all this happened. Didn’t you?”

I keep looking into his eyes, feeling a sob coming on and fighting it off before I say, “I did.”

“Before you broke it off,” he continues, frowning a little, “just like that, for no reason whatsoever. And how was it without me? Did you have fun, Anastasya?”

For a second, I stay silent, my eyes welling with tears and all my desperation threatening to rise from the depths to which I’ve pushed it.

“We’d be in it together, Max?” I ask in a fervent, choked-up voice. “You’d give me the respect that I deserve? You’d treat me as your partner?”

“Absolutely,” he replies with a determined nod. “We’d be equals, we’d rule side by side, and the money I’d spend on the land, we’d just use it to make your vision of it come true.”

And he gives me a smile and now I have to really struggle not to start crying, my heart swelling in my chest.

There’s a second of silence before he urges, “Come on, just say yes.”

First, my own words flash through my mind. The words I said to a certain someone. I’m never getting back with him.

But I keep looking into his eyes, the past year flashing through my mind, mistake after mistake after mistake made by a girl so lost, she didn’t even know it. Max, my Max. Why did I ever think there’d be anyone better for me than my Max? I don’t even care about the sex anymore. As if that’s something you build your future around.

And if he doesn’t hate me, even after all I’ve done… “You really still love me?” I ask in a shaky whisper.

“I do. So much.”

“And we really can forget…” I shake my head, not wanting to keep going.

“Everything,” he finishes my sentence with such determination in his voice. “Forget everything and just move on.”

I hesitate before I ask, this tightness in my throat making me sound breathless, “And you don’t think I’m too much? You don’t think I’m a lot?”

He frowns at me, making my heart sink. “Of course not,” he says matter-of-factly. “Why would you even ask that?”

It makes relief flood my body, his reaction. Maybe, for everything to be okay again, I really only have to come back to him.

And I let out a pent-up breath and I pull my hand out of his grip only to throw myself into his arms, squeezing my eyes shut to stop tears from falling down my cheeks.

He laughs and squeezes me tight.

He’s right, my Max. He was right all along. And soon, I think to myself, in a little more than two weeks, I’ll stop feeling everything I’m feeling right now — all this anxiousness and sadness and desperation — and I’ll be able to start looking forward to our future together.

Everything will be exactly the way it was supposed to be in the first place.

It’s then that it pops into my head, making my muscles stiffen and my stomach twist.

“I only have one condition,” I tell him as I pull away a little.

“Anything.”

“Let’s not tell people until after the school year is over.”

He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Not the family,” I explain, albeit hesitantly. “The family can know. Just not… people at the Academy.”

At that, raised eyebrows turn into a frown, so I rush to say, “I don’t want the pomp, Max. I’m tired and I just want the Games and the school year to be over.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he throws me a warm smile and says, “Sure. You got it, cupcake.”

I smile back, for the first time in forever, and I pull away to hold my hand out for him.

He slides the ring around my finger and then tries to pull me in for a kiss, my palms snapping up to stop him.

I shake my head, averting my eyes a little. “Not just yet. I’m not ready for that yet.”

And I can see something flash through his eyes and I can tell he’s not happy, but then he just gives me a nod and a smile.

It makes me feel good, so when he moves to wrap his arm around my waist, I let him.

Then he turns me around, saying in a raised voice, “Yes. She said yes.”

And it’s only then, when the clapping and the cheering start, that I realize we have the entire household watching from the West Wing stairs.

No, I groan to myself.

“Congrats, Max,” Nikolay practically yells as he rushes down to shake my fiance’s hand. “I won’t even mind that you went and did this on my birthday.” He lets out a rough, jolly laugh. “Bloody hell, I’m happy for you.”

And he turns to me and I smile, letting him pull me into a big old hug.

Then I let my fiance start leading me to the others, the smiles I can see on all their faces, including Mother’s, making me start relaxing, thinking I must have made the right choice.

There’s only the matter of not letting people find out until the school year is over. Luckily, I can make it so I practically don’t see anyone for the following two weeks, my first major concern being the party that the Grimms are throwing before the Fifth Game.

***

Anxious, that’s what I am. We have the Game tomorrow, and the last day of school, and the Grand Ball. But as I go down the stairs and into the Common Room, where Max is already waiting for me, there’s something else I’m worried about. It makes me wish I could do this with invisibility magic on me.

Sadly, I realize as soon as I spot Max looking up at me from the bottom of the stairs, it seems that people can still see me.

“Don’t you look wonderful, cupcake?” he says as he holds his hand out for me.

It makes me frown, realizing I’d half expected him to throw some snarky comment at my choice of outfit — simple black dress, combat boots and red lipstick. “Thank you,” I tell him, with a genuine smile, as I take his hand.

“And I hear you’ve aced all your finals,” he says as he leads me across the nearly empty Common Room. “Such a clever girl you are.”

That makes me blow a laugh through my nose. “When have you become such a flatterer?” I ask, and just before we reach the staircase, I make him stop and I give him a kiss on the mouth, the first one since we got engaged again.

The kiss is nice, like cuddling up with a book you know you’ll like because you’ve read it before.

It’s with his eyebrows raised and lips curling into a smile that he looks at me when I pull away. “What did I do to deserve that?”

I just give him a smile, loop my arm through his and move to keep walking, going down the stairs and to the Elevator on the Tower Ground Floor.

But as soon as we reach it, I see someone waiting there, a grim-looking male shifter. My eyebrows pull down when I see him throw Max this funny little look.

Max stops and turns to face me. “Would you mind? It won’t take long.”

“Do what you have to,” I say with a smile, my mind lingering on the fact I’ve seen the shifter somewhere before.

And I go to wait in front of the Elevator as the two of them come to stand near the window on the opposite side of the room.

I whip out my phone, but before I can actually busy myself with it, it finally hits me where I’ve seen the guy. He’s the Pied Piper’s ‘assistant’, one of those that never has to do any admin, let’s just say.

And I don’t look up from my phone, but before I can stop myself, I’m already using my hearing to eavesdrop.

“Still no luck,” the shifter says in a low, serious voice, “but the Pied Piper’s changed her mind. We’ll still have the Game tomorrow.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Max demands, also keeping his voice down. “Why aren’t you back there, trying to get more information out of her?”

The Archon, he must be referring to the Archon.

“She’s a tough nut to crack,” the shifter says, “and there’s only so much the Pied Piper will let me do.”

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Max snaps. “As if the Games aren’t dangerous enough even with all the figurines working properly.”

The shifter says nothing.

There’s a second of silence before Max asks, “What about the other two?”

“They’ve run all the tests,” the shifter starts reciting in a flat voice. “Door seems to be exhibiting strange behavior, but Hourglass is perfectly stable. And that’s all that matters, for tomorrow at least.”

Judge, I think to myself, shivers running down my spine. She tried to use Judge, that’s what she did.

“Okay,” I hear Max say. “Thanks. Give the Pied Piper my regards.”

And just like that, he’s standing next to me, making me look up as he calls for the Elevator. “Thank you for waiting, cupcake. Shall we?” he asks when the door opens.

I walk inside, hesitating a little. But just as the door closes, I bite the bullet. “Anything worth relaying?”

“Ah,” he says with a wave of his hand, “tiresome admin stuff. Would bore you out of your mind.”

I don’t say anything. He’s lying, I think to myself. But then again, I don’t have all the information. For all I know, the Pied Piper could’ve sworn him to secrecy.

So I choose to just give him a smile.

And the door opens again, letting us into the nearly empty Entrance Hall, the music blaring from the Main Hall, where the party is.

And my mind is buzzing with what I’ve heard just now and I’m so anxious about tonight, but I still breathe a sigh of relief when we walk through the archway, his arm around my waist, and I see exactly how crowded the place is.

It’ll be easy to avoid seeing people I don’t want to see here.

“Max, you won’t believe what I managed to score,” my brother yells as soon as he spots us approaching his and Hilde’s table.

He’s holding a bottle of bright green liquid up for us to see. Feno wine. It makes me frown, but before I can say anything, Hilde cuts in.

“Nyx,” she urges as she looks up at me. “Please tell him he can’t have any.”

“Why don’t you just drive a stake right through my heart, woman?” Nikolay demands with hurt and defiance in his voice.

“Oh please,” Max scoffs as he pulls the chair out for me. I throw him a smile and take a seat. “Feno,” he continues as he takes his seat next to me, “you’re fretting about Feno?”

And he turns to me, saying in an important little voice, “I’d had worse by the time Father gave me my first horse.”

I don’t smile, his voice and the words having put me off a little.

“But if he drinks too much,” Hilde insists, “he’ll poison his blood.”

It is true. And it makes images of bloodied bandages and syringes flood my mind.

“Then I just won’t drink too much, will I?” Nikolay says, as if to a half-wit. “Tell her she’s being an ass, Nyx. I think I deserve some unwinding after everything I’ve been through lately.”

I have to fight not to roll my eyes at this statement. And there’s this resistance in me to doing anything but letting brother darling do whatever the fuck he wants, be it having fun at a party or killing himself in the stupidest possible way.

But when I look into his eyes, it makes me let out an internal sigh, hold my hand out and say, “Can I take a look?”

He gives it to me.

And for a moment, I pretend I’m reading the label. Then I hold it out a little to the side and intentionally drop the thing, making it come crashing to the floor, all the liquid spilling onto the polished tiles beneath our feet.

“Shit,” I curse, faking surprise and remorse as I look up to see everyone staring at the mess. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come on, Nyx,” my brother drawls as he turns to frown at me. “You expect us to believe you’re good with a knife and you can’t even hold onto a bottle?”

I just shrug and proceed to pouring myself a drink, letting the conversation at the table happen without me.

And with every passing minute, my anxiousness dies down a little, birthing a possibility I haven’t even entertained yet.

That I won’t have to try to avoid seeing people I don’t want to see, because people I don’t want to see won’t even be coming to the party.

But almost as soon as I think that, I spot that fucking Howe enter the Main Hall with his pack and all the anxiousness comes flooding back into my body.

***

I sense Max looking and I force myself to tear my eyes away from Howe, who didn’t seem to notice me, him and his pack already merging with the crowd. But when I turn them to my fiance, I see him glance in the same direction I did.

Then he locks eyes with me, staying silent while throwing me this funny little squint that makes a pang of guilt shoot through me.

I don’t hesitate. “What would you say,” I ask as I lean in, determination in my voice, “if we left this place, right now, and went up to my room to order some food from the kitchens and just relax, like we used to?”

For a second, he just looks deeper into my eyes. Then he shakes his head, gives me a funny little smile and starts getting up. “No no, the party’s only getting started.”

It makes me frown, when I see him move for the center of the room with determination in his step.

To my surprise, he jumps onto one of the tables, his eyes sweeping the room. “Excuse me,” his voice booms, “may I have everyone’s attention, please.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks when the music dies down and all the eyes in the room snap to my fiance standing on the table with a mysterious smile on his lips.

No…

“Now, as you all know,” he starts, “at the start of this year, I got engaged only to have that engagement broken off not four months later.”

There’s a murmur of sympathy from the crowd, but I’m focusing all my attention on not jumping out of my skin.

“We won’t be getting into detail about how it all went down,” my fiance continues with a laugh and a wave of his hand, “but I did go from a happy man to a wretched one in the blink of an eye.”

There’s a split second of silence during which it finally hits me, that he’s actually going to do this.

“But I’m pleased to say,” he says in a voice that seems to match the sentiment, “that as of two weeks ago, I’ve gone back to being the luckiest man alive.”

He turns to me, holding his hand out in my direction. “And this is the woman I have to thank for that. Why don’t you come on up, Anastasya?”

For a second, I find myself struggling to catch my breath.

But there are so many eyes on me now, and I just get up and I walk up to the table on which he’s standing, my mind buzzing and blank all at once.

Max jumps down and takes my hand in his.

“No,” I mutter to him, but before I can do anything, he lifts my limp hand in the air to show the ring on my finger.

And the crowd cheers, but all I can do is say one weak, “Thank you,” trying my hardest not to actually look at anyone, so I don’t see who’s watching and who’s not.

“Let’s just say,” I hear my fiance continue as he lowers my hand but keeps it in his, “sometimes, the bumpier the start, the smoother the ride. Isn’t that right, cupcake?”

I hear laughter and I turn to look at him and he’s throwing me a smile, but all I can do is give him one stiff nod, my ears ringing.

“And because we’re so thrilled about this,” he says as he turns away from me again, motioning to someone in the crowd, “we felt the need to share the happiness with all of you tonight.”

The next thing I know, the crowd is parting to let through a whole procession of staff members pushing carts stacked with fondue, cakes, drinks, the works.

“This is all courtesy of the Aalders and Romanov families. Enjoy,” Max says, making the crowd break out into cheerful clapping and whistling.

It makes me finally start catching my breath, when he starts leading me away, pausing every two seconds to let people congratulate us.

“Didn’t we say we’d wait until after the school year was over?” I lean in to whisper, in a tense little voice, as soon as I get the chance.

“Well, it is over,” he snaps a little, throwing me another funny little look just as we get back to our table. “Isn’t it?” he asks as he takes his seat.

For a second, I struggle trying to recall our agreement. “It is,” I finally say, frowning as I slump into my chair, desperate for my mind to stop buzzing.

And it does, only to go completely fucking blank when I see who’s walking straight towards us.

Howe, one hand in his pocket, one on a gorgeous fae girl’s waist.

And it’s not me he comes to talk to. He doesn’t even look at me.

Instead, he comes to stand in front of my fiance and, to my surprise, throws him a wide, slightly menacing grin as he leans in to say, “Congrats, Aalders.” Without taking his hand off the girl, he gives Max’s shoulder a hard, hard squeeze, shaking his entire body as he does. “I just hope it sticks this time.”

Max pulls away with a frown. Then the frown turns into a smirk. “It will,” he finally drawls, “don’t you worry about that.”

“Never say never, right?” Howe replies in a humming voice, his eyes darting to mine for a second, my throat instantly tightening.

“But won’t the happy couple have a dance to celebrate?” he asks, seemingly earnestly and with a little squint, as he takes a step back, pulling the girl more tightly to him.

“I think we should, yes,” I hear Max say as he gets up off his chair.

“That’s more like it,” Howe says with a little smile, looking only at my fiance, tips his head in a greeting and finally leaves us be, the girl holding onto his arm even more snugly.

When I turn my eyes back onto him, Max is holding his hand out for me.

Feeling this overwhelming numbness, I have to force myself to get up and let him lead me into the crowd, where he puts his hands on my waist and starts waltzing with me, slowly and in perfectly measured steps. “Isn’t this nice?” he leans to whisper in my ear.

I nod, but all I can think about is how I just sat there right now, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do fucking anything, making it perfectly clear exactly how uncomfortable I was, while he was being his most nonchalant self. As if nothing ever happened.

Of course, the very next second, I turn out to be wrong in thinking that was it for tonight. Because who do I see twirling that fae girl, practically right next to the two of us, but the asshole himself.

It makes all my muscles clench.

“Why so stiff?” Max leans to whisper in my ear.

I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders. “I’m not,” I force myself to say, but I don’t pull away to look at him.

Because I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Howe and his date, focusing on the way they’re barely dancing, more goofing around — him whispering stuff into her ear, making her burst into laughter and then dipping her, low, in this exaggerated but disarming move.

I grit my teeth, but I don’t look away.

“Come on, relax, cupcake,” I hear Max say as he pulls away, making me look at him as his thumbs stroke my lower back. “This time, we’re in it for good.”

Despite my mind buzzing like crazy, I smile as warmly as I can and I give him a kiss. But as soon as I go back to leaning my temple on his, my eyes land on the asshole again.

And it makes my stomach twist, what I see. He has her back pressed to his chest now, those big arms wrapped around her waist as he uses his teeth to slide the strap of her dress down her shoulder and then takes a bite out of her neck, making her squirm softly, with a breathless giggle I can’t bear to fully register.

I find myself prying Max’s hands off my waist, my mind buzzing uncontrollably.

“What is it?” he asks, but I can’t even look at him right now.

“Bathroom,” I just say.

And I rush out of the Main Hall and I stumble into the closest bathroom on the Ground Floor, finding myself alone, in silence, staring at my reflection in the mirror above the sink with my hands grabbing its sides, feeling as if I’m forever falling with a knife in my gut that just won’t stop twisting.

Chapter 30 - Dahrian

Isee her pull away from that fucking asshole and walk out of the Main Hall, making me snap out of it and release the girl I’m holding in my arms.

“Thanks for the dance,” I tell her as I throw her a glance, forcing myself not to be aggressive about it as I move to walk away.

With the corner of my eye, I see her eyebrows pull down and I hear her call out, “Dahrian.”

But I’m already moving, fast, because I need to get to my pack before the urge to murder that fucking asshole kicks in. Kissing her, daring to kiss her right in front of my eyes.

Being surrounded by others is the only thing keeping me sane right now.

Party, it’s a party I’m at, I tell myself and the feverishness floods me again, making me throw on a grin even before my eyes land on them, huddled in one corner of the Main Hall with their drinks untouched in front of them.

“What’s going on here?” I demand, loudly and in an upbeat voice. “Why’s no one drinking?”

And I know why it is. It’s not like there aren’t tensions, now that the last Game is tomorrow and they still haven’t released our Archon.

“Well I guess you couldn’t be more right,” I say with a smirk and a shake of my head, letting my eyes sweep over the crowded Main Hall, bitterness flooding my mouth. “This party right here, it’s absolute shit.”

I turn to my loyal right hand and I ask, in a booming, slightly theatrical voice that usually gets my pack in the mood for partying, “Ricky, what’s the closest place with dingy bars and rivers of alcohol?”

And it does the trick, everyone’s ears pricking and eyes lighting up.

Everyone’s except for Ricky’s. “What’re you talking about?” he asks with a frown.

“Bloodholm, Boss,” O’Malley cuts in, eager to help. “I know the words for the Pull.”

“Bloodholm it is then,” I say in a commanding voice, clapping my hands and motioning for them to get up. “Let’s get a move on.”

And they all do, except for Ricky, again, who just comes to stand in front of me, saying, “You can’t do that. You haven’t filed the paperwork for using the Pull.”

Paperwork. It makes blood start boiling in my veins.

I just look at him for a second. Then I let out a mocking little laugh. “Listen to this,” I drawl. “I haven’t filed the right paperwork.” And I let my eyes sweep over my pack, who start laughing with me.

“Oh I don’t think you understand, mate,” I say as I turn my eyes back onto Ricky, “I don’t have to give a shit about fucking paperwork anymore. Or fucking rules in general.”

And I push past him, kicking his shoulder with mine, the pack following me out of the Main Hall, across the Entrance Hall and into the Elevator.

But as soon as we step out into the gardens, where one of the Pull chambers is, Ricky comes to buzz around me again.

“Boss,” I hear him call out from behind my back.

I don’t reply. I just keep marching, wanting to get the fuck out of this place as soon as humanly possible.

Never, she said, I’m never getting back with him.

And I can’t fucking believe I came to this fucking party to seek her out. To ask her to forgive me and make all this stop.

“Hey, wait up,” Ricky insists as he rushes to walk around me and block my way.

I don’t hesitate. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and I pull him close, so close, our noses are almost touching.

And I can see the surprise on his face, but I don’t care. “I need to blow off some steam, Ricky,” I tell him in a low growl, “and I’m going to do it with or without your fucking consent.”

I let go of him, roughly, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t let him. “Now,” I continue, barely managing my anger, “there’s two ways this can go down. Me getting the fuck out of here, or me bashing your head to a pulp. But it’s all going to go down real fast, so you might want to hurry up rolling the fucking dice.”

For a second, he just blinks at me. “Give me five minutes of your time.”

“Sure,” I drawl as I get in his face again. “I’ll give you five minutes.” Before I know it, I’m finding myself saying, “Five minutes to explain how you let yourself be interrogated about what happened between me and the ex. Go.”

And I take a step back, folding my arms and gritting my teeth.

“What’re you talking about?”

That makes me let out an angry scoff. “Oh, you don’t even remember future Mrs fucking Aalders getting you drunk so you’d talk about me and my private fucking business?”

By the time I’m done, I’m almost yelling.

But it doesn’t faze him. “She did what?” he asks with a frown. Then he shakes his head. “Wait. You told me I no longer needed to help keep you away from her. So what’s this now?”

“None of your fucking business,” I snap as I move to walk away, cursing myself for succumbing to the temptation in the first place.

“You’re my alpha and my family, Boss,” Ricky pleads as he comes to block my way again. “How is it not my business?”

I lock eyes with him, throwing him a nasty little smile. “The fact, Ricky,” I start, slowly and through gritted teeth, “that you were there for me when I broke up with Aisling, and the fact that I was there for you when you wanted to stop moping around and get out of your shell…” I pause for a second. “It does not mean we’re family.”

Now that makes him go pale in the face. “I think you’ve let yourself lose sight of the bigger picture here, Dahrian,” he says somberly.

“Oh really?” I drawl.

“Yes,” he says with a nod. “The Game is tomorrow and you’re not here as a care-free student. You’re here as the alpha that the Archon made her right hand.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding angrily as I keep my eyes locked with him, “and I kept the peace and stayed until the end. And if Brogan weren’t locked up someplace they’re not letting me into…” I find myself starting to raise my voice again. “Maybe I would’ve asked for further fucking orders, but seeing as she is, I think I’ll have myself a few meagre hours of blowing off steam before I have to fight in the most dangerous Game of the entire year just so I’m finally allowed to get the fuck out of this hateful, miserable place.”

Once I’m finished, for a second, there’s only silence.

“You’re missing the point of all this,” Ricky says in a hushed voice. And he takes a step closer. “Tomorrow, Dahrian, it’s tomorrow that’s the point of all this. It's me, you, Aine and Lorcan against Nyx and Max. Don't you see? You’re going to be saving your family, becoming a Professor, and who knows what else? Because I myself already see you as the Archon’s successor. No, not just see you. It can only be you, since there’s no one more capable of protecting the school than you. But all of that, it can only happen if tomorrow is executed well. Which is why, in a way, tomorrow is the day your future starts, and you need to be ready.”

With that, he gives a nod and expels a breath, waiting for my response.

But there’s this silence in my head where a snarky, ethereal voice used to be. “Is tomorrow now?” I drawl menacingly.

He just looks at me as if it’s the first time he’s seeing me. Like a fucking idiot. It only makes my anger flare up even more.

“Then I don’t give a shit,” I snarl at him, I turn on my heel and I start marching over to the rest of the pack, who are all standing outside the round cast-iron fence closing off the Pull.

“What’re we waiting for?” I let my voice boom across the gardens, making my pack get all feverish, just like I am. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 31 - Nyx

When I step out of the bathroom, I’m not feeling any better, but I at least seem to have some control over myself.

And I find Max out on the hallway, scrolling on his phone, seemingly waiting for me. And I start marching up to him, determined to start paying all my attention to him, the man I’ll be marrying and spending the rest of my life with.

So it’s with a smile on my face that I come to stand in front of him, saying, “I’d like another dance, please.”

To my surprise, when he looks up at me, putting his phone away, I find a dead serious face.

“Your brother,” he starts so somberly, it instantly makes my eyebrows pull down, “he’s out in the Gerhardt Yard.”

Also known as the Junkyard — the problematic kids’ hangout spot.

I feel myself start to fume. “So?” I ask, forcing a flatness into my voice.

“I think you should go talk to him.”

“I’m in no mood for him right now.”

I see his jaw clench. “He’s making a spectacle of himself, Anastasya,” he says through gritted teeth.

And I want to fucking scream, but instead, I just nod, I leave him standing there and I start marching over to the Junkyard.

What I see when I get there, the fake moonlight shedding more light than needed over crumbling statues and needle-littered grass, it’s not just the usual stoned faces of students of all bloodlines.

It makes me stop midstep, near the center of the courtyard, and grit my teeth, when my eyes land on him.

Shirtless, with his suspenders down, floating in the air in the Zero Gravity Pocket, as the students like to call it, the side-effect of some long-forgotten magic that was cast within this courtyard.

And he’s gotten himself quite a little audience, kids snickering as they watch him try to put his mouth around one of the floating drops of alcohol he’s spilled inside the Pocket.

“Look, another one,” he yells out as he finally gets it.

And the little crowd breaks out into cheering.

But then one of his admirers spots me, sees the fury in my eyes and waves a hand to get his attention with a scared look on his face.

And they all turn to look at me, my brother’s grin sliding off his face, but I’m already marching straight towards him, the crowd parting as I go.

“Oh, what?” Nikolay yells out. “Come to tell me I’m being stupid? Huh? Seems to be all you can do.”

I don’t say anything. I just reach into the Pocket, and despite the resistance of zero gravity, I grab him by the hand and I yank him out, making him come crashing to the ground with a loud groan.

“Nyx,” he calls out as I turn on my heel and start marching back, the little crowd having completely dispersed.

I feel him grab me by the hand and I stop, turning to look at him.

It makes my eyebrows pull down, when I see the change in his expression. He’s drunk, his shoulders are slumping and he has this desperate, pitiful look in his eyes.

“Nyx, everything’s so messed up,” he whispers.

“No shit,” I snap at him. And I move to walk away again.

“I need your help, sis,” he urges as he rushes after me.

Once again, I stop and I turn to face him, throwing daggers at him. “And what is it now?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Want your ass wiped?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh sorry,” I say mockingly, “are you noticing some kind of malfunction? Your sister’s not working properly? You can’t just push a button and make her do whatever you want?”

“When have I ever asked anything of you?”

It takes me a second to fight off a sudden, violent rush of anger. I’m forcing myself to breathe as I drawl, “Just now?” I let out a frustrated breath and continue through gritted teeth, “Asking things of me, it’s all you ever do, Nikolay.”

He narrows his eyes at me and says, angrily, “You know, Nyx, I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care, but right now, bloody Ricky is being a better sibling than you are.”

“Well, glad you’ve found a replacement,” I snap at him. “I hope it works out for you. With some luck, you’ll be able to grow old together, spending your days playing video games while raging at the world for not giving you what you want.”

For a second, he just looks at me, this coldness flashing through his eyes. “You think because Father left you the land, that you’re so important, do you?” he demands.

“So, we’ve finally come to the root of the problem, haven’t we?” I let out a scoff. “Your fucking ego.”

“It’s the bloody respect you should be giving me,” he snaps as he gets in my face. “Zero respect you’ve given me, all my life, you and Father. And I’m sick of it, I’m bloody sick of it.”

I don’t take a step back, I take one forward, making him double back and shooting him a nasty little look. “You know what, Nikolay?” I drawl through gritted teeth, “I know this little playground mommy built for you has made you believe you deserve respect by default. But let me tell you something about the real world. Respect is earned. Instead of crying about not having it, fucking earn it already, you fucking moron.”

By the time I’m done, I’m practically yelling, finding myself turning my back to him and storming off.

“Yeah?” he yells after me. “Oh you’ll see. I’ll make you respect me. You hear me? And you’re no longer my sister, just so you know.”

But it’s just as I start walking down the hallway leading back to the Main Hall that I spot Hilde rushing over.

“Nyx,” she starts, stopping midstep and raising her eyebrows as soon as she spots me.

“Fuck off, Hilde,” I say as I try to push past her.

“Nyx, what the hell is going on?” she asks as she walks around me, blocking my way.

“What the hell is going on?” I echo bitterly. “You mean, besides perfection? I do have the perfect life, don’t I? I have more land than anyone should ever have, I have my exemplary little family and I’m marrying a prince, for the second time in a year no less. I’ve even got the fucking bling. What more could a girl want, right?”

For a second, she just looks at me. “I know something happened during the Fourth Game,” she says in a near whisper.

“No no,” I jump straight in, seething inside, “you want for something to have happened during the Fourth Game.”

I wait for her to blink at me stupidly before I get in her face and spit out, poison in my voice, “Because you’re spineless and you’re pointless and you have no life besides sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

“Wow,” she says as she swallows around a lump in her throat. Yet she looks at me like I’m being pathetic. “I think you’re in serious need of a shoulder to cry on.”

It makes me fucking snap.

I grab her by the neck and I hurl her into the wall behind her, her eyes rounding in fear when I focus on the blood rushing down the veins in her arm.

And I make said arm slam itself up into the wall next to her face, palm facing me, fingers outstretched.

Without a second of hesitation, I whip out my knife, spin it around my fingers and drive the tip into the wall between her thumb and her forefinger, making her let out a shaky breath as I feel all her muscles stiffen.

“From now on, little cousin,” I lean to whisper in her ear, “every time you address me, you risk losing a finger. How’s that for something to cry about?”

To my surprise, when I pull away and let her go, her hands fly to her throat, but she still has that look in her eyes that’s telling me I’m being pathetic.

I let out a scoff and I walk away, my chest heaving with even more unbearable anger.

Give, give, give, it’s all they ever want me to do. Give until I want to gouge my fucking eyes out, screaming what else is there for me to fucking give.

I have to get at least some of this out of my fucking system, I curse, otherwise I might find myself becoming the first person to actually die during a Game tomorrow.

And without me even knowing it, my feet lead me straight back to Lilith Tower, all the way up to the rookery and through the hidden door into Vasilisa’s room.

***

“Vasilisa,” I snap, still breathing heavily, as soon as I close the door behind me.

Then I just keep standing there as she walks out of the portrait, giving me a suspicious once-over before she finally frowns.

“Has something happened, girl?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation and with determination in my voice. “You love talking boy problems, don’t you?”

“No,” comes a cutting reply. “Come find me when you’re no longer hysterical.”

And she moves to walk back into the portrait.

“If you agree to hear this particular story,” I insist as I block her way, “you’ll get to hear all about me being ridiculously fucking stupid, like you wouldn’t believe.”

She squints at me for a second. “Well, when you put it like that...”

And she comes to lean on the wall next to the portrait, folding her arms, putting the sole of one boot up and frowning at me as I let myself go off the rails.

“So,” I start as I angrily pace up and down the room in front of her, “I broke up with my fiance — this was months ago — and that very same night, I started this little thing with one of the Fiains, telling myself it’d be just that. Casual sex. And for a while, it was.”

I stop to stare at her. “But now it’s done. Because you know what happened?”

“Somehow, I think I do.”

“I fell for him.”

“Shocking.”

“But it is, to me at least,” I say as I keep angrily pacing. “I mean, the guy’s a real player. Checks all the boxes — the looks, the charm, the short attention span,” I add with a bitter scoff.

And my eyes narrow as I say, still pacing and gritting my teeth, “But I went into it thinking I knew what guys like him do. You know what I mean?”

“Let me guess, you didn’t?” comes a snarky reply.

“No, I didn’t,” I snap as I stop to face her. “I sure as hell didn’t expect him to make me feel like I was the only girl in the world,” I drawl mockingly, “and the most special one at that. And it sounds so obvious when I say it, of course.”

“Congratulations on figuring it out. Now—”

“No,” I say with a wave of my finger in her face, “it’s only now we’re getting to the best part.”

“Oh, aren’t they all?” she drawls, sarcasm dripping from every word.

But I’m already back to pacing, only now I’m throwing furious hand gestures into the mix as well. “Now that it’s done — and this is so fucking ridiculous, mind you — I actually find myself surprised and hurt about the fact that I don’t matter to him. I walk around expecting him to show up, to try to chat me up or drag me to one of his parties or just plain seduce me into meeting up with him again. And when I don’t get it, and I keep not getting it, it’s like, I don’t want to live in a world like that. He made me hate my fucking life because he’s no longer in it.”

And I stop and I turn to stare at her, finding her rolling her eyes at me with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah,” I say. “I know. And you know what’s worst of all?”

I don’t wait for a reply.

“He warned me,” I spit out, bitterly. “The night we agreed to become fuck buddies, he told me he knew I’d fall for him. And I laughed in his face and then proceeded to fucking fall for him.” I let out an incredulous scoff. “How ridiculously stupid is that? Didn’t I tell you it would be?”

She quirks her eyebrow at me. “Oh, so you’re done with your little pity party?”

“Yes.”

“And now you want to know what I think?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

She pushes herself away from the wall to get in my face, staring deep into my eyes when she says, in this disturbingly flat voice, “I was fourteen when they first dragged me out of bed and gave me to a husband who fucked me raw and then proceeded to whore me out to people he needed favors from. I was twenty one when he tortured and killed a lover of mine in front of my very eyes. And I was a hundred and twelve when I risked taking on another, only for them all to end up stabbing me in the back because of their egos.”

I just blink at her. It makes my anger die down a little, the shock that seems to have taken its place.

“Suffice to say,” she keeps going, ignoring the incredulous look in my eyes and starting to slowly walk around me, “I don’t do romance of any kind.”

She comes to a stop in front of me, her cold eyes narrowing. “So if you think I’ll be helping you make your little boy toy fall for you, you’re dead wrong.”

“No, we won’t be doing that, don’t worry,” I say, starting to feel more like myself than I’ve felt in a long time. “Besides, you’ve already given me what I wanted.”

“Really?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow as she takes a step back. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” I say with a determined nod. “Just needed some tough love,” I continue in a flat, calm voice. “Someone who’d show me exactly how insignificant my problems are by talking about child-bride rapes and other delightful stuff like that. So thanks, Vasilisa. Now we can move on to discussing more important stuff.”

And I open my mouth to tell her what I found out by eavesdropping on my fiance, but she doesn’t let me.

“Wait,” she says, now squinting at me with this weird look on her face.

I nudge her to talk.

And she does, in a near whisper. “Would you like to know what really happened a hundred and fifty six years ago?”

The question makes me hold my breath. For a second, there’s silence, before I realize she’s waiting for me to reply and I just nod vigorously, gesturing with my arms for her to start fucking talking.

“Maybe I should start from the beginning,” she says, capturing all my attention. I don’t say anything, I don’t even move.

I just watch her let out a sigh as she comes into a low crouch, starting to trace circles in the stone floor in front of her with a pensive look in her eyes. “I was born in 1703, the third daughter to Archduke Orlov. As I already said, they married me off to Peter the Great when I was fourteen years old.”

She scoffs, but she doesn’t look up. “And I can only imagine what the history books would say, but it was mostly my efforts that made him great. For one hundred and forty years, I was a Queen ruling from the shadows. In 1846, when we finally agreed on the Unveiling, I was there. In 1847, when we executed it, I was there.”

Still holding my breath, I watch her shake her head. “And the next twenty years, those twenty years were brutal. The Scions publicly executing captured Originals and Originals wreaking havoc in the Scions’ communities. But that’s how O’Connor and I met, at strategy sessions.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Now, O’Connor was a king himself, a shifter king, powerful, handsome, amazing in bed. And he didn’t seem to feel threatened, like other men did, by my being a queen. And for a while, we were lovers. Then, one year, during the Games, while Grimm Academy was winning, I found him trying to tamper with the Box to rig the Games.”

What the…

She looks up, catches the look in my eyes and clicks her tongue.

“But if you’re thinking that’s where it all went wrong… It didn’t. It went wrong the following year, after I finally got fed up with my husband threatening to send me to live the rest of my life out in a convent every time my actions hurt his pride. I killed him and took the throne for myself.”

She pauses, making me hold my breath. “Sadly, I only ended up getting two years to rule on my own.”

Those must’ve been the two years I could find almost no information on — 1865 and 1866. And I have so many questions, but I don’t linger on it. I nudge her to explain.

She gives me this weird little smile and says, “It was the same year O’Connor’s country got attacked, took serious damage and only avoided being wiped out because I led my army against his enemies.”

She looks away for a second. “My lover never did manage to let it go, me saving him.”

“And?”

She lets out an annoyed sigh. “It stopped being enough for him to try to rig the Games. In 1867, the year of the Umbrage, first he got Grimms and Fiains to turn on each other. Then, slowly, throughout the course of the entire year, as I later found out, he looked for ways to use the Box to steal Grimm Academy’s Heart’s power. And he almost succeeded, during the Fifth Game, until I caught him and he waged war against me. But you know what he did then?”

I shake my head.

“He lured me into a trap, talking about love and whatnot, and he trapped me in this portrait and he used all his resources, magical and otherwise, to wipe all traces of my ever having existed.”

“He did what?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling down.

“And he told me he’d be using the same methods to make it seem as if we were the ones trying to rig the Games and eventually starting the Umbrage.”

She pauses for a second, letting out a scoff. “Men. They will only ever want to make you small and take away all your power.”

Then, without taking her eyes off me, she gets up, making me follow suit, and she gets in my face and says, “So you know what you need to do? You need to come to realize that love… it’s just an urge that’s best overcome, girl. Nothing more to it.”

For a second, there’s silence as we just stare into each other’s eyes, the look in hers growing strangely soft.

Then she turns her back to me and comes to stand in front of the portrait, looking over her shoulder. “Come see me after tomorrow’s Game,” she says, suddenly sounding worn out. “But not without a way to destroy this fucking portrait. I’m sick and tired of everything. I just want eternal sleep.”

And with that, she walks into the painting and disappears.

I just keep standing there, her words ringing in my ears. And they make me realize I wasn’t just being a little bitch about Howe. I was being a little bitch about everything.

And just like that, my mind is exploding with the images of the kind of future I’ve never even dared conjure up for myself. The kind of future in which I say fuck it and actually do what I think should be done.

And it’s scary because it’s major and it’s not what anyone would expect of me.

But I’m already working on a strategy.

So it’s only when I turn on my heel and move for the door that I realize I haven’t told Vasilisa anything about the Judge figurine.

But she’s finally told me her story and she can’t really give me anything more than that.

Besides, I can feel it in my bones, that I already know what the figurine is all about. There’s someone out there looking for revenge, and I don’t know why, but that’s how they think they’ll get it.

***

For the Fifth Game, the very last one, they’re taking us back into the Arena. And this is where it all started, nearly a year ago. So it’s with bitterness in my mouth that I walk next to Max, letting the noisy, unruly crowd take me down the same path I walked with him that time, from the Dame Gothel statue and across the fields to the north, the sun shining bright above us.

And there’s so much excitement on the faces of all the people around me, but all I can think about is how it could happen. How the revenge could take place.

Will it be a sudden attack during the Game or will the Game itself be part of it all?

There are a million questions like that swarming in my head, but they all remain unanswered.

And soon, I find myself entering the Arena through the back, the world falling silent around me as I follow Max down the hallway to the players' entrance.

All four of them are already there, standing around the door into the Ring. Ricky. Aine. Lorcan. Him.

And when my eyes first land on him, it makes me feel good to see how well it worked, my little chat with Vasilisa. He catches my eye for a second and then looks away, but besides the bitterness, I feel absolutely nothing at all, I think with a smile tugging at my lips.

When the two of us come to stand close to them, no one says a word. We all give each other quick nods, except for me and a certain someone ignoring each other, and that certain someone throwing Max another one of those nasty little smiles.

But the atmosphere is a tense one, there being four Fiáins and only two Grimms in the finals not helping.

So no one makes any small talk. No one even says anything.

Luckily, almost as soon as we join, the door into the Ring opens and the noise spills out, making me take a deep breath, throw an excited glance at Max and start walking in.

The temporary Guardian of the Obscura is already waiting for us at the center of the Ring, the Box in his hands, with the Pied Piper and Gleason once again substituting for the Archon as the Fiáin Academy representative.

And we do the little ceremony, us players bowing and retreating to the edge of the Ring, the audience clapping, the two representatives activating the Box by shaking hands…

It all just makes me want to keep rolling my eyes, that’s how tiresome it is.

But then the Guardian opens the Box, and as the Pied Piper and Gleason leave for the Pied Piper's booth, he takes a figurine out.

My heart skips a beat.

Hourglass. It’s the hourglass figurine, I tell myself, breathing a sigh of relief.

And he flings it in the air and goes to take a seat in his chair with the Box in his hands.

For a second, there’s almost total silence.

The next thing I know, the people in the audience are letting out a low murmur as an enormous hexagonal board with stairs along its edges shoots out from the ground and falls back down with a monstrous thud.

My eyes round in surprise when I see the elaborate central stone tower, the city, the forest, the mountain...

Shadowscape, I think to myself, a sudden thrill flooding me.

Hourglass flips and the sand starts running, but the six of us remain pinned in place for a moment, assessing the situation.

I throw a glance at Max, who smiles at me and says, “I guess we’ll be having ourselves a rematch, cupcake.”

I throw a smile back, but it only gets bigger once we walk up to the hexagon and I see the thrones, one at each tip of the six-sided structure.

Fucking thrones. We won’t just be standing around the board, I think as I start circling it, trying to pick one for myself.

Usually, in multiplayer, you roll the dice for it. But here, there’s no such thing, so everyone does what I do, trying to gauge which of the six slices of territories is the juiciest.

I see Max walk over to the biggest one, pale metal with studs all over. And there’s a smile on his face, as if he’s particularly pleased with his choice, as he climbs into it and looks down at me.

“Compensating for something, Aalders?” I hear Howe say as he picks a smaller one, made of carved bones.

“Mind your own fucking business, Howe,” Max snaps at him.

I roll my eyes.

And I walk up to the one I’ll call Shadow Throne, a beautiful thing made of something black and ethereal, like wisps of dark magic.

I climb up and I take my seat, letting my eyes sweep over Ricky in a throne of gnarled wood, Lorcan of molten lava, and Aine just getting settled into the one of glowing crystals.

And as soon as she does, the entire board starts glowing, the audience bursting into cheering and the throne under me vibrating with life.

It’s only then that it hits me, what it means — playing this game with five other people and Hourglass dictating its duration.

There won’t necessarily be a single winner, just like in multiplayer Shadowscape. Everyone still holding onto their armies by the end will be proclaimed winners.

My lips tug into a smile. And it’s going to be Max and me.

***

The glow dies down and the throne under me goes back to feeling lifeless. And just as I wonder how exactly I’ll be able to make my moves, the board produces this soft clicking sound.

And it rotates, quickly, by ninety degrees, and then comes to a full stop, making that sound again.

Fuck. I chose myself a good piece of land only to have it switched out for a wasteland, I think as I stare at the stretch of black sand before me.

In Shadowscape, there are only two ways to win.

Take the Tower.

Or take everything.

And everyone starts with an army of the same size, I think as I let my eyes sweep across the board, a hundred or so miniature soldiers on each slice of land, divided into two. But it’s important what kind of land you’re on because of the resources.

And my shit land seems to have none, unlike Max’s with the mountain, Ricky’s with the pastures, Lorcan’s with the city, Aine’s with the forest and Howe’s with the river.

Just as I think that, Howe’s throne glows, signaling his is the first move.

He has two choices now, attack or pass. If he passes, he might be rewarded with new resources, thus making his army stronger. Or he can attack and take more territory for himself.

And his land is sandwiched between Max’s and Aine’s, so it doesn’t surprise me when his lips curl into a smile and, without me seeing how, he uses his army to attack Max.

But it does surprise me when the clashing armies get swept up into the air and enlarged, the crowd going wild as an actual battle starts to unravel before all our eyes.

It gives me a thrill, making me eager to make my own move, when Howe’s soldiers wipe the floor with Max’s, blood spraying, and most of Max’s forces get pulled into Howe’s little slice of land.

But as soon as that happens, I hear this sickening sound followed by gasps from the audience.

My head snaps to Max, who’s gritting his teeth, nasty gashes covering his entire body.

Fuck fuck fuck, I curse to myself as soon as I realize what’s going on. Whatever injuries your forces sustain in battle, you suffer them yourself.

It seems this will be a painful ride.

I look away as soon as the Game chooses Max as the next player, my eyes fixing on my own territory, trying to decide whether I should play this the way I normally do — going for the other player’s territories.

The alternative is a lot trickier, I think with a frown. You go for the Tower when you’re not ready and it’s game over.

But this time, considering how weak my territory is… I think I’m forced to do exactly that.

The rest of the players, for their turns they all choose to attack neighboring territories — some winning, some losing, all sustaining blood-curdling injuries.

But once it’s my turn, once my own throne starts glowing, I feel tendrils wrap around my mind, Mind Magic tendrils. Of course. And I feel the connection with my territory and my army, and I only need to decide to pass this round for the next throne to start glowing.

And of course, my shit land gives me zero resources as a reward.

Next is Howe. And though it’s currently not a smart move for him, he chooses to attack Max again.

I let out an annoyed sigh, but the next thing I see makes me quickly turn serious. Howe’s army attacks, but this time, instead of using swords and shields against enemy troops, they use what looks suspiciously a lot like that cafeteria stunt of Howe’s to turn Max’s mountain into dust.

Fuck. We can channel our own magic through our armies? I sense the other players shift in their thrones as well.

I watch Howe wipe the floor with Max, grinning like an asshole, especially when Max’s face starts turning blue with the impact.

And for a second, our eyes meet, and I can’t help but roll mine. He catches that, his expression sobering.

I myself keep letting rounds pass, gathering some resources, though not many, but now that I know what I know… I think the next move will be my move for the Tower.

I only need to wait for Ricky to finish his turn.

Fuck, I think to myself when he turns his focus onto me. And he sends his army to crush me, but there’s not much resistance from them when I push back.

It makes me frown, but the next thing I know, my soldiers are wiping the floor with his. They obliterate every single one of them, making Ricky grab onto the armrests of his throne as blood starts spurting out of his mouth.

And just as I sense everyone around me draw in a breath, he gets zapped out onto the bleachers, leaving his throne empty.

He’ll be fine. They’ll patch him right up. I feel my muscles relax a bit, but I don’t get any time to celebrate.

Aine is next and she seems to be bent on destroying me as well.

Her army takes half of mine, making me almost cry out with pain as the phantom blades cut into my body, warm blood dripping down my skin.

As her soldiers make themselves comfortable on my land, I hear Max let out a chuckle. I turn to shoot him a squint.

But I still have half of my soldiers, and I still have my magic. So once my throne starts glowing, I only hesitate for a second, frowning at the fact that the part of my territory Aine has taken still feels… in my control somehow.

I shrug it off and I choose to go for the Tower after all, making my move as soon as my throne starts glowing.

And my army rises up into the air, enlarged, but instead of attacking with brute force, I use my stealth to sneak up on the Tower, catching its army by surprise.

My heart skips a beat when I see it’s worked. I sense other players hold their breaths, this being the first move for the Tower of the match.

But the next thing I know, the enemy army is throwing such strong shadow magic at mine, that I get nearly obliterated.

Fuck, I curse as tendrils of magic wrap themselves around me, making my blood boil and nasty red bruises start appearing all over my body.

Max lets out another chuckle, and the pain is making me gasp for air, but as soon as it’s clear I won’t be zapped out, I look up to shoot him a stare.

As soon as the pain subsides a little and we’re onto the next player, my mind rushes back to the moment before I attacked. That feeling that the territory that was taken from me was still in my control.

It’s then that a possibility enters my mind, a possibility that would go well with the fact that we can use our own magic here. And I come up with an entirely different plan.

***

I’m letting the remaining four almost wipe the floor with me whenever they attack. I sneakily use my Blood Magic on parts of their armies that settle into my territories. Of course, from the outside, it looks just like me passing another round, earning myself a snicker from Max every single time.

He himself seems accumulates quite an army, especially when he wipes the floor with Aine, receiving such an impact from his forces that she gets sent flying back, along with the throne. Still midair, she gets zapped out.

But then Howe, who seems to have smartened up and moved on from his obsession with Max’s land, attacks Lorcan, making me hold my breath.

He succeeds, making Lorcan let out a scream when the invisible blades cut into him, zapping him out of the Game. And this is a real victory for him, I think to myself when I see he’s now the strongest of us all.

I refuse to pay any attention to the self-satisfied smirk he throws at the murmuring audience.

But this is a victory for me as well, because I’ve already gotten my hands on some of Lorcan’s army.

Still, when the Game chooses Max for the next move, I just know who he’s going to attack. I have a much weaker army than Howe.

And Max does turn to me and I do intend to let him win, barely, so I can get at least a part of his army under my control as well. But what I see flashing through his eyes when he moves to attack is this expectation for me to let him get his way.

It makes me so pissed, I completely disregard the fact that this is the dumbest fucking move for me right now.

And when the Box’s magic pulls up and enlarges our two armies clashing, I grit my teeth and I ball my hands into fists, channeling all my magic into the few soldiers I can use without showing my hand.

Within two seconds, I’m spitting blood from the injuries his army’s inflicting on me and I’m down to so few soldiers, I fear I’ll get zapped out the Game any moment now.

Then I feel my magic’s become weaker and I whip out my knife and I cut into my forearm, sensing a look from Max’s direction.

I look up at him, still gritting my teeth and making his eyebrows pull down when my army starts killing his.

I watch his uniform get soaked with blood, his eyes rounding in what seems to be a mix of surprise and fear, before he gets zapped out.

And just like that, it’s just me and Howe, I think as I turn to face him. And sure, he has a bigger army, but he doesn’t know it’s all mine, from when he took from Aine, Lorcan, Max…

I smile when I see his throne glow. His will be the first move, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

My smile only grows wider when he moves to attack and fails to do anything. I feel the control over his armies deep in my bones. He doesn’t give up easily.

I can see the determination on his face as he tries to use the sheer power of will, then his shifter magic, then the power of will all over again. I know how much he wants this, but that doesn’t mean I’m supposed to give it to him.

“What the…” I see him mouth.

And I can hear and sense shifting from the audience as well.

But the Box signals it’s my turn now. And this is not something I’ve planned all along, but I feel the need to linger in the moment, watching his eyes narrow at me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, making my eyebrows shoot up. And it’s more serious than angry, when he says, “Are you fucking holding back now, Romanov?”

“Oh I’m not,” I say with a smirk that only grows wider when an idea pops into my mind that I just can’t resist.

Finally, I move to attack, making him flinch a little before all the soldiers currently on the board fly up and get enlarged.

Spotting his eyebrows pull down and hearing low, feverish chatter from the audience, I use my Blood Magic to keep all the remaining soldiers in the air for a moment.

Before I shut my eyes.

And make them all burst in a shower of blood, spraying everyone and everything around me.

When I open my eyes, for a second, there’s silence, Howe staring at me intently, all covered in blood, looking as if it’s dawning on him, what I did.

My head snaps up and I see Hourglass glow with a green light before it gets sucked back into the Box, my Shadow Throne starting to glow green as well. The crowd goes wild.

I won. I fucking won, I think as music starts blaring from the speakers.

I see Howe get out of his throne, and I’m still stumbling out of my own, when I sense Max’s presence to my right.

I turn to look at him, frowning when I see he's not smiling.

But it’s not me he’s marching toward. It’s Professor Byrne, just getting up out of the Guardian’s chair behind my back.

I watch Max come to a stop in front of the temporary Guardian. “It was cheating,” he says through gritted teeth, making my eyebrows pull down. “She was cheating,” he repeats in a raised voice.

The music stops, abruptly, and I can feel everyone's eyes on us, my cheeks burning with sudden embarrassment.

I see Professor Byrne throw him a confused look, but Max doesn’t let it deter him. He comes to jab an angry finger in front of his face. “You know what you’re going to do?” he demands, obviously completely forgetting himself. “You’re going to fucking fix it.”

“What are you talking about?” Professor Byrne mutters. “It’s the Box’s decision and the Box has decided.”

We all watch as Max takes a step back, seemingly barely controlling his anger. “I demand you tell me who chose you for this position,” he spits out, raising his voice so it echoes through the Ring, “because I’m not letting this slide.”

It’s at that moment that I see Aine get back into the Ring and start walking up to him, and I can tell by the look on her face that she’s planning on trying to appease him.

Me? I know better by now.

I just watch him as he spots her, turns to face her and spits out, “What do you think you’re doing, you filthy Fiáin?”

She stops midstep, her face twisting in disgust.

I feel mine do the same and I turn on my heel and start marching out of the Ring, the ceremonies be damned.

I hear him yell out, “Anastasya, come back here.”

I don’t listen, I just keep marching until I’m walking through the door from which we came and into the comforting silence of the hallway.

It makes me stop midstep, all my muscles tensing up, when he comes to block my way. “As my future wife, you can’t be disrespecting me like that,” he says through gritted teeth.

For a second, I just look at him, my mind flooding with the memory of the two of us playing that game of Shadowscape on the night of the Opening Ceremony. It stayed with me, that much is true. I just never thought it’d be representative of the way my entire life with him would be.

But it would. So I lift my hand and I pull the ring off my finger. “I want you to take this,” I tell him, flatly, as I hold it out for him.

Still flushed with anger, he shakes his head, refusing to do as I say. “No,” he tells me in a commanding voice, “you’re not doing this.”

I get in his face, finding myself surprised at how calm I am. “Oh you’re never again telling me what I am or am not doing. Understood?”

And I drop the ring to the floor, finding myself changing my mind about the next steps. Instead of the exit, I start marching back to the Ring.

“Anastasya,” I hear him call out as he rushes after me.

But I just keep walking. I’m not letting him take my victory away from me. Not this time. Not ever.

Chapter 32 - Dahrian

Leaned against the wall, I wait with Aine and Lorcan by my side, my mind buzzing. I spot them as soon as they reenter the Ring, Romanov moving for the largest group, the one at the center, and fucking Aalders falling back, as if he’s changed his mind about something.

And his little temper tantrum has managed to derail stuff, leaving us players, the professors and some of the more important people from the audience chatting as we wait for the winner so we can be led out of the Arena and into the Dining Hall for some tedious closing ceremony.

I turn my eyes back onto Romanov, watching her say hi to people. I could just walk up to her right now, but I don’t want a two-second interaction in passing. It’ll probably be our last one, I think as my heart sinks low into my stomach. And I’m feeling different than I felt before the Game started, mostly thanks to that look she threw me while we were still playing. Like I was a disappointment.

And no look has ever hurt more, which is why I now have to thank it for thinking I actually might have a normal conversation with her.

So I wait for one of the staff to start leading her back to the exit, into the hallway from which she came.

Just before everyone else starts moving as well, I tear myself away from the wall and signal for Aine and Lorcan not to wait for me.

I catch up with Romanov just as she walks through the exit.

I see her stiffen, but she stops and gives me a curt nod. I motion at the door to my right, the one leading into the room where players go to prepare.

She hesitates, but then dismisses the girl accompanying her out of the Arena and we walk inside. I close the door behind me and turn to her.

“Romanov.”

“Howe.”

For a second, I just look at her. “It seems congratulations are in order,” I finally say, giving her a smile. “And I mean, wow.” I shake my head. “Like, I’ll be able to proudly say I once fought with you in the Games.” I pause for a split second before I say, “You really are something.”

It makes her cheeks flush with the most tempting shade of pink. “Thank you,” she says curtly. “The feeling is mutual.” Another nod and now she’s already moving to walk away, adding in a rushed voice, “I wish you all the best. Have a safe trip home tomorrow.”

For a second, I hesitate. And I know I’ve absolutely no right to be pushing myself into the picture, but stopping her from making a huge, huge mistake? That’s something a friend can do as well.

So I rush after her, stopping myself from trying to take her hand and instead coming to block her way, her eyebrows immediately pulling down. I lock eyes with her. “You’re really going to marry him?” I ask in a low voice, recalling the way fucking Aalders acted when she won. Not the way a proud, loving fiance does.

She takes a deep breath and says, “I appreciate you coming to congratulate me, Howe. What I don’t appreciate is your tone right now.”

“Come on,” I urge her, “you know I’m only looking out for you.”

“Who’s asking you?” she snaps. “And no, I don’t know that. In fact, I don’t know you, as you’ve spent the last month showing me.”

This time, I block her before she even moves to walk away again. It’s in a low, rushed voice that I lean in to say, “I guess it’s not just princesses that throw temper tantrums.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands, her eyes narrowing.

It makes me want to pull my fucking hair out, being unable to speak freely. “Look,” I say as I take her hand, “if the situation were any different...”

What I’m hoping she’ll hear is, “Break up with him and choose me instead.”

But she doesn’t. She just snatches her hand away and looks at me as if I’m not well.

“But it’s not, of course,” I rush to say, “so please, let me just say this.” I hesitate for a second, but then I jump straight in. “He’s not the man for you,” I tell her.

And I can see her start to get mad, but I keep going, more fervently. “He doesn’t respect you, he doesn’t care about your wellbeing, he doesn’t even seem to see you for who you really are. He’s not giving you what you need.”

For a second, she just looks at me. “How dare you suggest you know what I need?”

“I can see you’re not getting what you deserve.”

“No such thing. There’s only what we choose.”

“Fine,” I almost snap, “then don’t choose anyone who’d do anything less than worship you, every single day, like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Me, choose me,” that’s what I want to say.

She rolls her eyes. “For your information,” she says with a sigh, “I’ve already made my choice. I’ve chosen myself.”

And she lifts her hand to show she no longer has a ring on it.

It renders me speechless for a second. Then it sends a flood of relief and longing coursing through my body. And I move to take her in my arms, but before I can even lay a finger on her, she slinks back, raising a hand and shaking her head to stop me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands.

“You’ve just said you’re no longer with him.”

It’s a defiant one, the look she throws me. “And why does that make you think I’ll come running to you? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

For a second, I just blink at her. Then I move to get closer again, saying, “Nyx, if you’d only give me—”

“No,” she cuts me off, so serious, it hurts. “I don't want to hear another word about it. I’m sick and tired of you all. I just want to be left alone.”

And I just can’t believe I lost my chance the second after I thought I got it, but she’s moving to walk away and, right now, there’s nothing more important than the way I part with her.

“I’m sorry,” I rush to say as I block her, again, “I’ll stop. And I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.” I pause to get just a little closer.

And I drop my voice a little, all of a sudden feeling all the pain of never getting to look into her eyes again.

“Just do me this one little thing, it’s all I ask,” I urge her. “When you think of me, don’t think of the past month, I beg of you.” And I sense her tense up a little, and I put all my tenderness into the words I nearly whisper, “Just know there’s someone out there who will forever be on your side, hoping with all his heart you get everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

And now I can tell by the look in her eyes that I’ve made her uncomfortable, and I’m not having that as her last reaction to me.

So I pull away a little and I say, in a louder, more upbeat voice, “And congratulations on the win once again, Romanov.” I have to grit my teeth to do it, but I do it. “I wish you a long and happy life.”

Her eyes soften a little, making it all worth it. “Thank you, Howe. I wish a long and happy life to you, too.”

Do you really, I think to myself. Give me a chance then.

But I don’t say anything. I just give her a smile and keep standing there, watching her open the door and get out, feeling as if she’s taking my heart away with her, raw and exposed and forever aching.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, I sense my fox stirring within me.

He doesn’t say anything.

Still, I feel him there.

My eyebrows pull down when I see that fucking asshole walk up to her to pester her again.

And I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. She did just tell me she won’t have anything to do with me regardless of fucking Aalders. Still, I fail to stop myself from getting close enough to hear what he’s telling her.

“I was in shock, cupcake,” he urges. And she’s not throwing him a single glance, instead moving for the girl waiting for her, but he's not giving up, making me grit my teeth. “Come on,” he keeps saying in a fervent voice, “if you agree to forget about this, I’ll do whatever you want.”

She stops to shoot him a nasty look.

The very next moment, she moves to walk away again, but he blocks her way. “Want a diamond tree? You’ll get one. Want an entire year in the tundra? You’ll get it. Bloody hell,” he keeps going, “if you want your own country, I’ll find a way to give it to you.”

“And what if I want you to take me seriously? You know, when I say I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

That renders him speechless for a second. But then he leans to say something to her again and I snap when I see the way she slinks away.

I stalk over to them, I fix my eyes on him and I say through gritted teeth, “Why don’t you leave her the fuck alone?”

It makes both their heads snap to me.

But the next thing I know, there’s this tug behind my navel. I frown, meaning to glance around, but then, just like that, I feel this pull zap me out of the Arena.

***

I find myself in some hallway, my mind struggling to process what’s going on. There’s the three of us there — me, her and fucking Aalders, positioned exactly as we were a second ago, only in a different place altogether.

It takes me a second to realize it’s that same hallway I found myself in on my first night at the Academy.

But what really confuses me are the two figures standing a little farther down.

Ricky and Nikolay, my friend’s narrowed eyes glancing from Romanov to fucking Aalders.

It makes this dread seep into my bones, when I see he’s wearing the Guardian’s robes, complete with the pendant. And in his hands, he’s holding the Box itself.

It’s practically at the same moment that the three of us all get a move on, starting to close the distance between us and the mysterious duo.

“What’s going on here?” I hear fucking Aalders demand in that pompous little voice of his.

Then Romanov calls out, “Nikolay—”

But the next thing I know, her brother is shutting his eyes and we’re all freezing in place, these tendrils wrapping around my mind. I try to turn to Romanov, but I’m unable to move any of my muscles, unable to speak, unable to do anything but stand there.

Nikolay opens his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you I’d make you respect me?” he snaps at his sister. “Huh?”

It makes me grit my teeth when she doesn’t say anything.

Ricky lifts a finger to shush Nikolay. And he throws another glance at Romanov and fucking Aalders before he fixes his eyes on me.

He takes a step closer, so he’s only an arm-length away, and he gives me this funny little smile. “I should’ve known I’d be getting the two of them here with you. As it turns out, it’s all you’ve been doing this past year.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me, but he motions at Romanov. “Sniffing around her.”

What the fuck is he doing? Did he bring us here somehow?

“But it doesn’t matter,” he continues with a shake of his head. “It can all still go just as I planned.”

And he gives me another smile. “So now, Dahrian,” he says, “Nikolay will let you speak, so you and I can have a little chat about the future.”

I feel one tendril unwrapping.

I let out a pent-up breath. “Ricky,” I warn as soon as I regain control of my vocal chords, “this is not funny.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “I realize how you must be feeling right now, but don’t worry, you’ll come to understand everything soon enough. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

Gritting my teeth, I lock eyes with him and I tell him in a low but menacing tone, “Let’s start with you releasing everyone here.”

He straight-out ignores me. “How did I manage to do this, you’re wondering?” he asks as he looks down at the Box in his hands. “Well, it took a year of planning, ever since I found out we’d be coming here for the Games, for the first time since the Umbrage happened. Now, to use the Box, I suspected I’d need to become the Guardian.” He lets out a laugh. “How else does one do it?”

It makes me want to seriously hurt him. “Ricky,” I snarl.

He doesn’t even acknowledge my reaction. “But what makes a Guardian, you ask?” he keeps going with this excitement in his voice. “We know what spell binds him to the Box, but what makes him able to use it? No one knows, right?”

He shrugs. “So instead of just stealing the Box and failing to control it, what only an idiot would do, I went on to make sure the Box changed multiple Guardians while we were here.”

“What did you do?” I demand, getting more worried by the second.

“First I needed to get rid of Schwarz,” he says matter-of-factly. And then he starts pacing in front of me, listing. “I used these nifty little magic items to injure our brothers during the First Game, to make it seem it was him. I killed the professor he was supposed to meet during the time he was supposed to meet him. I spiked his Winter Solstice Ball drink with maedea, ensuring his neurons would start firing in all the wrong ways so he’d endanger the fragile peace between us and, finally, be removed from the position of Guardian.”

And he comes to stand in front of me with a smile on his face. There’s a touch of pride in his voice when he says, “And that was just the first Guardian.”

Now that makes me snap, the nonchalant admission to everything from lying to fucking murder. But then my mind rushes to Romanov standing there, in actual fucking danger, and I force myself to get it together and start trying to figure out a way to break this fucking spell.

“I tried doing something similar with the Archon,” Ricky keeps going, “but she was just too… unpredictable and strong. So I used a part of my plan for this grand night,” he says as he gestures at Romanov’s brother, “my dear friend Nikolay, to help me with her. And together, we made her try using the Box in circumstances in which I knew she’d most definitely be caught, that is, during a Game. It was just an added bonus, seeing her try and fail.”

Despite all my efforts, I fail to do anything to mess with Nikolay’s Mind Magic. But it’s at that moment that it finally occurs to me. The pack.

“So now it’s three of them that I’ve managed to see in their Guardian roles,” Ricky says. “And you know what that made me realize?”

I just grit my teeth, rushing to make a connection with every single member of my pack, except for him.

“It’s the goddamn pendant,” he says with a scoff, pointing at the necklace he’s wearing. “Nothing more to it than that. How disappointing, isn’t it? In the end, I only needed to jump that pitiful Byrne after the Game, knock him out and steal it from him.”

He pauses, looking straight into my eyes as he tilts his head in suspicion. Then he smiles. “You won’t be able to use that in here. It’s for a reason I chose this hallway for our little chat. It cuts you off from everyone else.”

Goddamnit, I think to myself.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” I spit out, my teeth gritting with rage at him putting us all in danger like this. “What do you think you’re doing and why?”

“Glad you’re asking,” he replies with a smile. “The plan is to use the Heart Bond to set things right — to restore our Academy to its former glory and lead it into a new era with you by my side.”

“That’s what you were talking about last night,” I say with bitterness flooding my mouth. “You said I’m to become the Archon’s successor, but you weren’t talking about Brogan, were you? You were talking about yourself.”

“And you, Dahrian,” he says as he comes to get in my face, the smile sliding off his face and his voice turning a little feverish, “you said all you wanted was to get the fuck out of this hateful, miserable place, remember? Well…” He pauses for a second. It’s in a dead serious voice that he continues, “Side with me and we won’t just do that. We’ll burn the goddamn place to the ground.”

It’s at that moment that I hear Nikolay say from behind Ricky’s back, “What’re you talking about, you old fool?” He lets out a rough, confused laugh. “You said I’d become the Pied Piper and we’d—”

Ricky shushes him, fixing his eyes back on me. “Once you and I are done with our negotiations,” he tells me, “I’ll open up the Box and I’ll take one of the figurines out, the Judge. You know what Judge does? It evens the scales between the Academies. Which means that, after a hundred and fifty six years, we’ll finally get justice for what they did to us. There’ll be no more Grimm Academy.”

“Hey, Ricky,” Nikolay yells, angrily, as he moves to grab him by the shoulder. “That’s not what we agreed on, you bloody moron.”

But Ricky just turns to face him, lifting the Box he’s holding in his hands. And he slowly starts reaching for the lid with one hand, making Nikolay freeze in place, obviously not knowing what to do.

“Ricky,” I warn in a low snarl. “Stop it, Ricky.”

“You don’t want me to do this,” Ricky tells Nikolay as he motions at his sister. “It’s not just figurines that can be pulled out of the Box.”

Fuming, I once again strain all my muscles to try to break myself free of the spell. It doesn’t work. If he does it, I think with gritted teeth…

And I can see literal sweat beading on Nikolay’s forehead, and there’s a second of silence, but then his nostrils flare and his hands ball into fists.

“Nikolay,” Ricky calls out, a touch of concern in his voice. “I’m warning you.”

But the next thing I know, Nikolay is shutting his eyes and Ricky is taking a step back, grimacing in what seems to be an attempt to fight off his Mind Magic.

For a second, my heart pounds with the expectation of Romanov’s brother ending this shit.

The next thing I know, Nikolay is starting to stumble around, his eyes closing, and Ricky is letting out a low, self-satisfied little snicker as he turns back to me. “He thought I wouldn’t protect myself,” he says with incredulousness in his voice.

I hear Nikolay come crashing to the ground. And now I’m unfreezing, my head snapping to my left to see the same happen with Romanov.

“You filthy shifter,” fucking Aalders yells out as materializes in front of Ricky, moving to grab him by the throat.

Not wiping the smile off his face, Ricky only slinks back a little.

And both me and Romanov move, but before we can do anything to stop him, he creaks the Box open and quickly pulls something out, letting it fly up into the air.

Fuck, I curse when I see it’s a humanoid shadow with countless grabbing arms coming to hover in front of fucking Aalders.

“Ricky,” I shout, meaning to command him to get it the fuck back inside as my mind starts trying to strategize. This is all turning to shit real quick. How the fuck do I get her out of here alive?

But the very next moment, Aalders is doubling back with a terrified look on his face.

And despite not having come up with any tactics, I’m already moving, because Aalders is pushing past Romanov, making her yell out, “Max,” as the creature shifts her focus onto her.

I see her try to use her Blood Magic, but the creature is reaching to grab her so I throw myself in front of it, almost instantly feeling so cold, it makes my mind go blank with shock.

When I come to, I’m still on my feet, but I’m swaying a little and I have to glance around to reassess the situation. Max is nowhere to be seen, Romanov is unharmed, catching her breath to my right, and Ricky is standing to my left with that creature hovering beside him.

“I didn’t let it hurt you,” he tells me. “I only want to talk.”

I turn my eyes onto Romanov. “Get the fuck out of here,” I order, using my most threatening voice, “now.”

But she’s not scared of me, she never was. She just shoots me a nasty look and keeps standing there. But she does motion at Ricky, signaling to me that she’ll be gracious enough to let me try to do my thing before she makes any moves.

And I give her a nod, turning back to Ricky.

Who’s smiling at me. He’s fucking smiling at me as he refuses to stop keeping her in actual mortal fucking danger.

Pure rage starting to consume me, it takes all I have to calm the fuck down and say, “Alright.”

***

I see Ricky’s lips curl into a smile.

But I don’t wait for him to start yet another little monologue. I take a step closer and I force myself to remember this is my friend standing right in front of me.

“Listen to me, Ricky,” I urge him, feeling Romanov’s eyes on me. “Remember what I said last night, about the two of us not being family?”

He shakes his head, still smiling, but I feel the need to keep going. “I wasn’t being myself, mate. You are my family. You always will be.” I take another step closer and I hold my hand out, making my voice even softer. “And what I want you to do now is give me the Box and go have a nice little chat with me, just to see where we’re at and what we can do to fix things.”

It’s the creature that responds by getting a little closer, making me snatch my hand away and let out an angry breath.

But Ricky just smiles. “That’s one of the things that made me choose you, Dahrian,” he says. “You’re a rare combination of a fighter and a diplomat. But I’ve already told you exactly what we’ll do to fix things.”

“Come on, Ricky, chasing revenge? I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Justice, not revenge,” he spits out, his face twisting in anger. “Goddamn justice that’s a hundred and fifty six years overdue.”

My ears prick up even before I hear Romanov ask him, “Does this have to do with your parents’ death?”

I throw her a look over my shoulder, wondering how she knows about that.

But the next thing I know, Ricky is moving towards her and I’m pushing myself between the two of them as he leans to the side to spit out, “No, it’s you, you goddamn Grimms.”

And it’s a look filled with hate, that he’s throwing her, making me ball my hands into fists and snarl at him, “Ricky, I’m warning you, mate.”

He turns to me, taking a step back with this feverish look in his eyes. “They destroyed my family’s dynasty in the Umbrage,” he says through gritted teeth, raising his voice. “They destroyed our chances for survival, and because of that, one hundred and thirty seven years later, my parents were killed by the Heart’s Magic, the very thing that was supposed to protect them.”

Fucking hell, I think as it starts hitting me, how much I really don’t know him. For a second, I just keep looking at him. Then I muster the strength to give it just one more try.

“Hey, just listen to me, please,” I urge as I get a little closer, keeping one corner of my eye on the creature. “I won’t pretend I know what you’re going through, but if you let me, I’ll do everything in my power to understand and to help you get through it.”

“You know what you can do to help?” he snaps. “Agree to becoming my right hand. I’ll be the new Archon, Dahrian.” He pauses to look deeper into my eyes. “I’ll be the only one standing between your family and a happy future.”

It makes me grit my fucking teeth so hard, it hurts.

But he’s already lifting the Box up again. “You have thirty seconds to make up your mind before I open this. Once I do, trust me, it’ll be too late.”

I sense Romanov tense up behind me and it makes me fucking snap, the situation he’s put us all in.

It’s then that I decide I’ve had enough.

All my muscles clenching, I lift my hands up and I slam my palms together, making my tattoos glow and the walls all around us start to make a deafening noise as I work on releasing the stone from within.

With a loud and sudden groaning sound, a bunch of rocks fly out and come to hover around Ricky. “This is your last chance. Let go of the fucking Box, now.”

But instead of listening, he just smiles and starts opening it.

The next thing I know, he’s grimacing, his hand flying to wrap itself around his throat. He grabs the Box tighter with his other hand.

I don’t have to even glance at her, I know it’s Romanov using her Blood Magic on him.

“You really should listen to him,” I hear her tell him in a voice that sends shivers down my spine.

But instead of doing as she says, Ricky smiles with a cough and starts trying to use the one hand to open the Box.

At that, she makes his entire body fly up, slamming into the ceiling with a sickening sound.

He lets out a strangling sound and I guess it makes her fear she’ll kill him, because the next thing I know, he’s snatching his hand away from his throat and opening the Box.

For a second, my mind goes blank.

Then I send all the rocks slamming into him, but he’s already crashing to the ground, the Judge figurine flying out of the Box and coming to hover above us.

Before there’s a flash of light that nearly blinds me, and when I manage to open my eyes again, what I see almost makes me double back.

***

It’s a… woman, I guess, I think as we all freeze in place, my eyes dragging up and down the enormous figure floating in the air, seemingly composed of twigs and clay and leaves, even bugs.

I watch her eyes land on Ricky’s creature. Her lips curl in disgust and the next thing I know, it disappears.

And then she lets her narrowed eyes sweep over the three of us, making me hold my breath.

“Yes?” her deep, ethereal voice sounds. Annoyance, there’s a touch of annoyance in it.

But what makes me really worried is the sheer power emanating from her with no ups and downs. Constant, tremendous power.

“Dame Gothel herself?” I hear Ricky say in a choked-up voice. I turn to look at him, finding him staring up at her in awe. “I can’t believe this is how it works.”

Dame Gothel just takes a deep breath, as if she has to fight not to lose her patience. Fuck, I think as I throw a glance at Romanov, who’s still standing there, unharmed, her eyes narrowed at the woman.

“Um,” Ricky starts, a bit of hesitation in his voice, “it’s the biggest honor of my life to find myself in your presence. My name is Eryndor O’Connor, of the famed and ancient line—”

“Get to the point,” Dame Gothel cuts him off.

“It’s justice I seek, Dame Gothel,” he continues in a more fervent voice. “For you to even the scales between Grimm and Fiain Academies, the ones you helped bring into existence and the ones you’ve sworn to keep under your wing.”

“The scales have already been evened,” she says with an impatient wave of her hand, “a hundred and fifty six years ago.”

“That’s not true,” Ricky protests. “The Grimms want you to think that, sure—”

Like a gust of air, she flies to get in his face, her voice turning menacing as she says, “Oh they want me to think that? And that’s what you think of me? That I have to rely on the words of you pitiful creatures for the truth of what happened here?”

I see Ricky swallow around a lump in his throat. “Of course not.”

And he pauses a little, at least until she retreats. Then he continues, seemingly struggling to keep looking at her. “But there must be some kind of mistake here. My namesake was a great king, one who did all he could to bring his land prosperity. But he did make one grave mistake — trusting the Grimms. During the Games of 1867, he realized they were rigging the Games and he tried to set the record straight.”

“Actually,” I hear Romanov say as she takes a step closer, making my muscles tense up, “it was the other way around.”

Both me and Ricky turn to look at her.

“How would you know?” Ricky demands. “I have his diaries.”

She folds her arms. “And I have Vasilisa Romanov’s portrait.”

What is she talking about, I think to myself as I watch Ricky frown, but she’s already letting out a scoff.

“What?” she asks him. “None of his journal entries mention my ancestor? The one he trapped in a painting?”

Ricky grits his teeth and proceeds to ignore her, turning to Dame Gothel instead. “My great-great-grandfather tried to set the record straight,” he tells her, “but the Grimms waged war against him, damaging our Academy’s Heart’s magic in the process and causing the downfall of the O’Connor dynasty.”

He pauses to spit out, “So how can you think, even for a second, that the scales have already been evened?”

Dame Gothel lets out a little laugh as she turns to look at Romanov with this funny look in her eyes that makes me hold my breath.

“Because the girl is right,” she says, her eyes lingering on her for a moment longer.

Then she turns back to Ricky, making me breathe a sigh of relief. “Your ancestor… He didn’t try to set the record straight. He tried to use the Box to steal Grimm Academy’s Heart’s magic. So to punish him, I damaged his Academy’s Heart’s magic.”

What the…

For a second, there’s silence. Then Ricky expels an angry breath, his hands balling into fists. “You did it?” he demands.

“I did,” she tells him, sounding downright bored.

“You’re the one to blame for all this?” he insists.

And I notice the temperature in the room dropping as Dame Gothel shoots him this cold, cold look.

I don’t hesitate. I jump in between the two of them and I lock eyes with Ricky. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “It’s in the past, Ricky. How can’t you see?” I throw my hands up in the air, becoming desperate to finally get us all out of this fucking situation as I feel Dame Gothel’s eyes on me. “We need to be moving forward, doing everything we can to build a better future, not letting ourselves get stuck in the past. Just let it go, please.”

He glances away, his jaw clenching.

But I don’t give up. I take a step closer. “Just let it go and all will be forgiven.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then I feel this raw energy draw closer and my head snaps back to see Dame Gothel looking down at us. At me. And it feels as if she can see through all my walls, straight at the fox huddled inside.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she says without taking her eyes off me. “It seems the situation does require me to even the scales after all.”

My heart skips a beat, fear flooding me.

She turns her eyes back onto Ricky, motioning at me as she says, “But it’s because of him that it does.”

The next thing I know, light starts to break through her, seeming to explode and making me have to shield my eyes before it dies down, leaving her hovering there like a second ago, as if nothing happened.

“There, young alpha,” she tells me, “I’ve fixed your Academy’s Heart’s magic.”

I just blink at her, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“What about Grimm Academy?” I hear Ricky demand.

“Grimm Academy stays the way it is,” she tells him, right before she starts disappearing. “Except for one painting,” she adds as she throws Romanov this funny little look, making her frown.

Then she turns her focus back onto Ricky. “And I’m not giving you any more of my time. I suggest you listen to your alpha, little hyena.”

“No,” Ricky shouts. And he lunges at her, lifting his hands to throw punches at the air. “Hey, come back here.”

The next thing I know, she’s no longer there, she’s everywhere. In the walls, underneath the floor, in the air itself. And there’s this unearthly roar coming from all around me, so loud and so pervasive, it shakes me to the core, making me stumble back and fall to the ground, along with Romanov and Ricky.

Before it all just goes away. Because she’s made her point.

It takes me a moment to come to. When I do, I find Romanov jumping to her feet and Ricky dragging his body to where the Box is lying.

“Ricky,” I shout at him as I watch his hand dart to it, and I move to stop him, but then I hear Romanov’s knife whiz past my ear. She must’ve used up most of her Blood Magic by now.

But the next thing I know, I’m stopping midstep because the knife has Ricky’s hand pinned to the floor, and he’s letting out a pained groan, his face twisting in anguish.

He doesn’t look up. Through gritted teeth, he says, “She can’t do that.”

For a second, I think he’s talking about Romanov. But then he spits out, “She was supposed to burn this goddamn place to the ground.”

And without a moment of hesitation, he pulls the knife out of his hand and pushes himself up from the floor.

The knife squirms in his hand, but he’s not letting her use her magic to get it back.

Disgust making my jaw clench, I spit out, “I thought it was restoring our Academy to its former glory that you wanted. You know, justice, not revenge. Huh, Ricky?”

“Oh I’ll be getting both,” he tells me as he throws me a weird smile, “don’t you worry.”

Blood curdles in my veins even before he makes a sudden move to my right, swinging his arm back as he lunges at her with her own knife.

I hear her let out a groan and I see the knife finally release itself from Ricky’s grip and fly back to her, slicing his palm so badly, it makes blood spurt out.

But I’m already slamming him into the wall, my entire body burning up with rage. “Don’t you dare,” I snarl at him, “not if you don’t want me to rip your fucking throat out.”

For a second, he just lets me choke him. Then he gives me a smile, making my eyebrows pull down, and the next thing I know, he’s taking something out of his pocket and throwing it into the air behind me.

There’s this explosion, just like the ones I remember from the First Game, and all my muscles stiffen even before I hear a scream and my head snaps back to see the impact sending her flying back.

And for a second, it feels as if my mind has shut down, permanently.

Then fear floods me and I let go of Ricky, only to sense him shift behind my back and see his hyena charging at her.

Fear and rage consume me and I let my fox out despite the confines of the hallway and I don’t waste a split second in leaping after him. Before he can get to her, I open my mouth and I snap my teeth shut around his neck, lifting him up into the air like a rag doll just as my paws land on the floor.

And I shake him, growling, until I feel his blood fill my mouth and his body go limp in it.

I drop him to the floor and I come to hover over her, scanning her frantically. She has these burns all over her body, but what’s making panic and desperation flood me is the gaping hole in her stomach and the delirious look in her eyes.

“I don’t want your help,” she squeezes out as she lets her head fall to the side.

Forcing myself to snap out of it, I shift back and I rush to lift her up, as quickly and gently as possible, all the while shoving all my raging emotions aside.

“Get away from me,” I hear her mutter as I start running out of the hallway.

And her words, they hurt so much more than that look I thought hurt more than anything else before.

But right now, I can’t let myself think about anything other than getting help. Because she won’t die. Even if it meant me having to die instead.

***

I find myself waiting in front of her door, unable to do anything but keep trying to gauge what’s going behind it. There are so many people around me, occupying the couches, armchairs and plain chairs of the common space of her floor in House of Lilith.

But I barely register any of them, my forearms resting on my knees, my head hung low and my eyes fixed on the floor before me. And it’s not because my entire body is in pain or because my head is swimming like never before in my life. It’s because it feels as if I’d just started waking from the worst nightmare of my life only to get flung into something much, much worse.

It shakes me out of my haze, when I see a tall, proud woman enter the common space and march straight up to her door.

And the woman is taller than Nyx, much colder and more uptight, but for some reason, as I watch her get in the room and close the door behind her, I know it’s her mother I’m looking at.

It makes me fume, knowing it’s only now she’s come to visit. I haven’t left Nyx’s side since it happened, for the last four hours at least, and I know the woman has a son they’re currently keeping in the dungeon, but her daughter is here in mortal danger and she’s only now deigning to show her fucking face.

I have to fight the urge to go over there and strangle her with my own two hands. And sure, at least Hilde has shown some sense of devotion and loyalty, not letting that fucking Aalders past the staircase into the common space, let alone her room.

But right now, I hate them all, I hate them all with a burning passion for having the right to be there with her, while I have to stay out here, wondering if she’s even going to make it as her words keep echoing in my head. Get away from me.

I let my head hang low again, the flood of rage making way for desperation once again, leaving me even more bone-tired and numb than I was a moment ago.

My fault, it’s all my fault and no one else’s, I think with bitterness in my mouth. How long have I had feelings for her? How long had she been single before she went back to him? And how have I behaved this past month?

I have to fight not to get up and start smashing the place up. Despicable — using those two girls to make her jealous and tossing them aside as soon as she was no longer there, letting my fox’s anger come pouring out of me, taking it out on everyone around me…

But worst of all, I’ve had so many chances to tell her how I feel, before it all turned to shit like this. To tell her that she’s the one for me and that I only wish to be with her.

It’s at that exact moment that I sense my fox stir within me again. And I let all my sadness rush to the surface as I turn my focus onto him.

I see him lying in the deepest corner of my mind, his front paws tucked under his chin, looking barely alive. And it makes this memory flood me — strangely vivid — of the thirteen-year-old me in the woods, awakening my animal for the very first time.

Boy, the strange, terrifying fox called me.

And it made me so pissed, I balled my hands into fists, spitting out, “My name is Dahrian and that’s what you’ll call me.”

I remember it all so clearly. There was a moment of silence before I heard that mocking, playful laugh of his. I’ve been around for longer than you’d be able to comprehend. I’ve gone through more bodies such as yours than I can even count. And once you shrivel up and die, I’ll still be here, growing more powerful by the day.

He paused before he let out this chuckle. So until you earn my respect, I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want, boy.

I thought I did, I think to myself as disgust twists my face, my teeth gritting. But I never did, didn’t I? I still deserve to be called ‘boy’ and nothing else.

I see his ears prick up even before I hear him say, I’m not letting this slide so easily…

And it sends a flood of relief coursing through me, just hearing his voice, however exhausted and hopeless.

But you only needed to stop running from it to make me able to come back to you. And you’ve just done it. There’s a moment of silence before he says, Dahrian.

“Thank you,” I tell him, simply yet earnestly.

And I know it should make me happy, but it’s not exactly a joyful reunion. I may have started repairing my relationship with him, but that only makes the two of us — waiting in front of her door, fearing the worst as we slowly lose our minds.

And now that I’m finally waking up, only one thing seems to be certain. If she dies, I’m as good as dead myself.

Chapter 33 - Nyx

It’s a beautiful summer day outside, when it should be a gloomy, stormy one, I think as I gaze, numbly, through the window from my bed, bombarded with images of Ricky’s hyena lunging at me, Nikolay’s terrified face, the look in Howe’s eyes when he rushed over to me.

Twenty four hours, it’s been only twenty four hours since it all happened. Just yesterday, I thought I’d be home by now, putting this entire school year out of my head.

And there’s this terrifying unease in me that’s worse than the memories of the pain after that thing exploded in my face and the hyena attacked me. It flares up every time my mind tries to feel out the future. Because the future seems to have been destroyed.

Nikolay is about to be locked up. Fiáins are about to leave for good. Vasilisa is about to force me to burn her or something. And Max…

I glance at my hand, where the ring used to be… This morning I happened to find out he lost all that money he said he bet on me winning. Turns out he actually bet on himself.

That led me to learning it was him who spread all those rumors about me after we broke up. And now… Now it feels as if it was all a lie, all along, from the moment Nikolay introduced me to him three years ago to the moment I broke up with him yesterday.

And now the silence in my room is only broken by the sounds of his once again incessant calling and texting.

Except when it’s a call or text from Howe, coming from a number no longer saved.

“Hope you’re feeling better. And I know it must be hard for you right now, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me pay you a visit.”

“Just five minutes of your time, that’s all I ask.”

“Or a reply at least.”

I know them all by heart, that’s how much I’ve stared at them. But I ignore them all.

I won’t let him ruin it, I think with unwavering determination. It took all I had, to part with him the way I did yesterday. I thought he deserved at least as much after the way he behaved after the Game. And back in that hallway with Ricky, he only proved he did.

But thinking I’d be with him? It makes me let out a scoff. I don’t even know him. And he may think he wants me now, but I’ve seen exactly how quickly he can discard me and go back to sleeping around. And even if that weren’t the case, I mean…

Bitterness floods my mouth as soon as I recall it.

He’s already told me exactly what he thinks of me. And whatever I end up doing with my fucking life, it sure as hell won’t involve being with anyone who feels I’m a lot, which is exactly why I was so determined when I told him to leave me the fuck alone.

It’s just that I thought he’d respect it.

And I don’t know why he’s being so persistent in doing the fucking opposite, especially considering the fact they’re practically already on their way back home, at least according to Mother’s latest from this morning, the news that the Fiáins would be leaving at five PM.

But his reasons don’t matter. There’s nothing more to be said, so I’m refusing to be forced into going through yet another goodbye. Which is why the only thing that makes sense right now is making sure I never see him again. So I’ll just stay here, in my bed, until well after five, and then I’ll leave myself.

And I can barely feel the gratitude for having survived and already feeling, physically at least, as if nothing ever happened. Because I’m in for the worst summer ever, a summer of heartbreak on all fronts.

But maybe it’s for the best, I conclude as my eyes land on my desk, in which I’m hiding the plans I devised after my last visit to Vasilisa. I have work to do, and as she herself said…

Love is only an urge that’s best overcome, isn’t it?

It’s at that exact moment that I hear a soft knock at the door, and I smell Hilde standing on the other side.

Hilde, the only constant in all of this, I think to myself with a sad smile. Hilde, who I can barely look in the eye without shame threatening to swallow me whole. Apologize, I need to apologize to her, as soon as this is over.

“Come in,” I say.

And she does. “Hi, Nyx,” she says a little tentatively. “You’re looking good as new.” She comes to stand in front of my bed. “Is there anything I can bring you or help you with?”

“No, thank you, Hilde,” I reply as I glance at the clock above the mantelpiece opposite me, seeing it’s ten to five already. I turn my eyes back onto her. “Do you think you could come back a little later?”

She just looks at me for a second, then comes to sit on my bed with this serious look on her face.

Fuck.

“I know you probably won’t want to talk about this,” she starts in a somber voice, “but I’m just going to come out and say it.”

“Can we do it later?” I plead. “Complete with my apology to you and everything. Just a bit later, please, Hilde.”

She looks deeper into my eyes, making me frown. “Look, Nyx, I know,” she finally says.

“What?”

“I know what happened before the Fourth Game,” she replies, making me push myself up in my bed, my ears burning and my frown growing deeper. “See, I said before, so you should know I’m telling the truth.”

Why won’t anyone let it be, I think with gritted teeth. Why can’t they see I just want to forget?

“Well,” I spit out, bitterness flooding my mouth, “I’m so happy for you, Hilde, that you finally got yourself that piece of hot goss you wanted so much.”

For a second, she just frowns at me. “You think I came here to judge you? Is that why you never told me anything?”

“How did you find out?” I demand.

She shrugs, albeit a little hesitantly. “I may have done something I’m not particularly proud of.”

Max. She used her Mind Magic on Max.

“I was worried about you, Nyx,” she insists. “Seriously worried. And you weren’t telling me anything.”

So she went and found out about me getting ‘railed in a filthy classroom’, as Max put it.

“And you thought you had the right to snoop?” I demand. “Huh?”

Of course, it’s me, myself and I that I’m actually mad at, for having been that person myself not too long ago.

“Yes,” Hilde insists. “I’m not exactly proud, but things got enough out of hand for me to decide that, yes, I do.”

I shake my head at her. “Hilde,” I say in an exasperated near whisper. “I used Blood Magic on you and I threatened to cut off your fingers.”

“You did, yeah,” she says flatly. “And? What, you were planning on actually doing it? Please.” This last word she drawls mockingly.

“No, but seriously,” I insist. “Why are you wasting even a smidge of your energy on me?” I feel myself start to get emotional. “Can’t you see I’m not someone you should care about?”

There’s a second of silence before she asks, “How long have we known each other, Nyx?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Since we were ten.”

“And I was always a little scared of you and I thought you were a bit of a bitch. At least you were to me. Still, for as long as I can remember, there was something about you that made it impossible for me not to like you. Like, one good word out of your mouth has always felt more important than a thousand from others.”

I roll my eyes at her. It doesn’t deter her.

“But now…” She pauses to squint at me. “With everything I know, I feel I can finally start to understand you, too.”

“Oh really?” I drawl.

“Yes, and let’s just say, that little stunt you pulled the other day,” she says scoldingly, “it made me stop being scared of you altogether.” Then she turns serious again. “And I thought I could see it, but now I know for sure. You’re hurting, and I came to tell you I’m here for you, if you want me to be.”

“This is nothing,” I snap and I tear my eyes away from her, fighting not to show emotion.

“Please,” she replies sarcastically. “You’re pining.”

I push myself up a little, throwing daggers at her. “What did you just say to me?”

“Fine,” she says, raising her hands in defense, “no need to bring out the f-ing knife. But…”

“Yes?” I ask, wanting her to finally spit it out so I can get her the fuck out of here.

She hesitates for a second. “I just have to tell you I really, really think you should answer his texts.”

That makes my eyebrows pull down. Did Mother put her up to this? Trying to save my engagement?

“I would’ve come back anyway,” she starts, “but, um, Howe…”

Howe? And I can’t help but notice it’s the first time she’s referred to him by his last name, and so flatly at that.

“What about him?” I demand in a breathless voice.

“He paid me a visit just now,” she replies hesitantly. “Told me he’s been texting, calling, coming knocking all day, with no success. Basically, he asked me to try to convince you to see him.”

There’s a moment of silence before I turn my eyes away from her. “I’ve already said goodbye to Howe,” I say in the flattest voice I can muster. “Not planning on doing it again.”

“He seemed really desperate to talk to you.”

“Well, he has a way of making things seem…”

For a second, she just squints at me. “How long has this been going on, Nyx?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I snap. “It’s over now.”

But right now, it’s five PM and I can hear the commotion outside and I hate it that Hilde’s here to see my shame, but I still get up and walk up to the window.

I have to see him leave. Maybe if I see him leave, with my own two eyes, my heart will just give up on this whole bullshit.

And there they are, the remaining Fiáins, being escorted by the Pied Piper, almost all the professors and a whole bunch of students, all moving across the gardens and straight for the nearest Pull Chamber.

I grit my teeth when I spot him among them.

“I just think you’ll regret it if you just let him leave,” I hear Hilde say as she comes to stand beside me. “But of course, it’s all up to you.”

I don’t say anything, all my focus on making sure I witness him get zapped the fuck out of here.

I see him wait for his pack to use the Pull in groups of five.

But once they all do, including the newly released Archon, instead of using it himself, he turns on his heel and starts marching back.

I frown, bitterly wondering how much longer I’ll have to wait for this to be fucking over.

My frown only growing deeper, I watch him walk all the way to Lilith Tower, stop once he’s right in front, and then start climbing.

What the…

“I guess that’s my cue,” I hear Hilde say.

And for a second, I can’t tear my eyes away from the figure deftly making its way up the tower and straight for my window.

But then I turn to Hilde and tell her, in this small voice, “You don’t have to go.”

“Oh I think I do,” she says with a smile.

I just blink at her.

She lets out a little laugh. “If I don’t see you before I leave…”

“No, you will,” I rush to say, but she’s already walking out of my room and I’m moving away from the window so as not to be seen from the outside.

But the next thing I know, there are three sharp knocks sending my heart racing.

***

“Romanov,” I hear his voice boom when I don’t answer, serious and commanding.

There’s a moment of silence before he gives the window three more quick knocks, more impatient this time. “Hey, open up.”

I take a deep breath and I come to stand in front of the window, seeing him gripping the gargoyle on the window frame with one hand and pushing into the tower wall with his feet to keep himself hanging there, staring at me with this intense look on his face.

“We’ve already said our goodbyes, Howe,” I say flatly. “Let’s not ruin it.”

“It’s no joke, you know,” he says with a frown, “how long I can stay like this.”

“You can die like that for all I care,” I snap and I walk away from the window.

“Don’t mind if I do then,” I hear him snap back as I start pacing my room, making sure I’m out of his line of sight.

And I try to ignore it, that he’s there, but then he starts whistling, the sound somehow pissed, and he keeps doing it, louder and louder, until I march up to the window, open it and take an angry step back as I watch him jump through.

“Five minutes, you said?” I ask as soon as his boots land on my carpeted floor.

He stands straight, throwing me a squint. “So you did get my messages?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I say flatly. “I seem to have lost your number.”

For a second, there’s silence. Then he just says, “Fair enough.”

And proceeds scanning my body, as if checking the state of me, saying in a softer voice, “You look… all healed up.”

It instantly makes me pissed, that he’d go ahead and make it seem like he gives a shit.

So I march up to my commode, grab an hourglass I’ve never used as, well, an hourglass, and I flip it over, slamming it back onto the polished wooden surface.

And I turn back to him, folding my arms and motioning at the sand starting to run out as I watch his eyebrows shoot up.

“Right,” he says as he shifts on his feet a little, folding his arms as well. “Well, here goes.”

And he takes a deep breath and he says, “You’ll probably say it’s a real dick move, what I’m about to do.”

It makes me quirk an eyebrow.

“Hell, until yesterday,” he continues, “I’d say the same. After all, you did tell me you never wanted to hear another word about this. And it was my sincere intention to respect that.”

He runs a hand over his face and drops his arms to his sides, locking eyes with me again. “But then, yesterday, you almost died, and I found myself in a situation where I wasn’t even allowed to see you. And it made me realize I don’t really give a fuck what you’ll think of my little dick move.”

“Get to the point.”

“Right,” he says, his jaw clenching a little. “So here’s how this will go. You’re going to agree to be with me. I’m not leaving until you do.”

And he just keeps standing there, folding his arms again with sheer determination on his face.

It all makes me let out a bitter laugh. “Please tell me you’re on something.”

“I’ve never been more sober or serious in my life,” he replies, still in that super somber voice. “But I get where you’re coming from. I mean, my behavior this past month…” He pauses to glance away for a second, gritting his teeth. “It was despicable and inexcusable to say the least, and I do understand that it makes you not want to have anything to do with me right now.”

And he takes a step closer, his voice growing softer and more rushed as he says, “But if you only let me, I’d show you how desperately sorry I am, I’d make you see it pains me to even think about it, and I’d prove to you that nothing like that would ever happen again.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I say with a shake of my head. I fail to stop bitterness from coming through when I say, “I know you never liked Max, but at least him I knew.”

To my surprise, he doesn’t protest. “No no, I totally understand,” he says matter-of-factly. “But I already have a solution for that.”

My eyes narrow, he catches that and he looks deeper into them, taking a step closer and pointing a finger at the ground. “Right now, you’re going to start asking me all those questions you want to ask me and I’m going to answer them all as truthfully as possible. If it’s something I’m lying to myself about, I’ll put it aside until I give you the truth and then go back to my lie.” He pushes his chest out a little and adds, “And I realize this might take a while, so I already have everything worked out in case they throw us out of the Academy before you’re done with me.”

“Thought you said you only needed five minutes.”

“Well,” he says with a shrug, “five minutes for the pitch.”

“Here’s your answer then. Not a chance in hell.” And I move to open the door for him, so he can get the fuck out.

“Why the hell not?” he asks as he comes to block my way.

And he’s standing so close, not letting me look away, saying in a low growl, “Tell me so I can fix it.”

“Remember telling me you thought this thing between us is a princess’s temper tantrum?” I find myself asking, starting to fume. “Well, it seems it’s become a player’s temper tantrum,” I say with a bitter scoff. I angrily wave a hand. “You can’t let us part as, well, not enemies, because you just can’t take no for an answer, can you? You can’t leave knowing there’s a girl here who’s not still swooning. It’d hurt your pride too much or whatever.”

“You think I’ve never gotten rejected?” he asks as he gets in my face, making me take a step back and turn my eyes away from him. “I take my rejections from girls the way I take all my rejections. I say thanks anyway, have yourself a lovely day. I’m a grown man, not a fucking child.”

There’s a moment of silence before he says, “Hey, look at me.”

And I don’t plan on doing it, but I do, finding him staring at me. “You saying no to me is not the reason I’m here. I’m here because you’re all I can think about, because nothing matters more than what you think of me, because I’m desperately in love with you. So,” he says as he lets out an angry breath, “anything else I can fix before you start asking the fucking questions already?”

For a second, I just stare at him. “Fine,” I say, making him raise his eyebrows.

And I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “Where did you go when you disappeared for two weeks?”

Chapter 34 - Dahrian

It makes at least some of all this built-up fucking tension dissipate, when she finally says, “Fine,” and gives me my first question.

But I’m far from having anything to celebrate, so I force myself to stay focused, and I go to take a seat on the edge of her bed, her eyes closely following me.

“I told you about gáirs, didn’t I?” I start as soon as I sit down, leaning my forearms on my knees and fixing my eyes on her.

She nods, but she just keeps standing there, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed.

But I just let the truth pour out of me, embarrassment and all the other fucking emotions be damned.

“Well,” I start, “where I come from, we also have amadáns.” It makes me pleased when I see I have her attention. “Hooligans who gather in gangs and pretend they’re Robin Hoods. My brother Sean is one of them. He’s fifteen, the youngest, and there’s a lot of hatred in him, hatred he can’t seem to get under control, so when he loses it…”

I shake my head and let out a sigh. “Serious shit happens. So every once in a while, I have to go running to stop him and I never know what I’m in for or how long it’ll take me. And I can’t even count how many times this has happened, but if you want, I can tell you all about his individual rampages or anything else in however much detail you want.”

“What about you?” she asks, the touch of disapproval in her voice making a knife twist in my stomach. “What about your anger? What about that time I saw you in the cafeteria, making that guy beg you not to hurt him? Is that how you normally behave, when you’re not putting on an act?”

And it hurts, what she’s asking me, but right now, I’m more grateful to be getting another question. So I grit my teeth and I say with a bitter smile, “You’ve had the pleasure of meeting my fox, haven't you?”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, but I don’t let it deter me. “Well, he’s a powerful animal, and the more power they have, the harder it is to keep them under control. I’ve always taken it very seriously, though. And I did have it under control, until you came along and suddenly, all he wanted to do was run around trying to take a whiff of you,” I say with a bitter little laugh.

She rolls her eyes as if she doesn’t believe me and I force myself to turn serious again. “But it wasn’t an actual problem, until you invited me to your room.”

Now that makes both her skin flush with embarrassment and her ears prick up with interest.

“After that night, well…” I shake my head. “I went overboard trying to deny my feelings for you, in doing so I damaged my relationship with my fox, and we both went off the rails. And I’m still working on it…”

I pause to look deeper into her eyes. “But it’s the first time it's ever happened like that and it will be the last.”

She lets out a scoff. “What about the time your ex cheated on you?”

“No,” I say with a frown and a determined shake of my head. “I was hurt, of course. I did care about Aisling. And she did do it with my then best friend, which only made it hurt more. But my fox and I, there was nothing more than a week-long fallout between us after that. Nothing even remotely like this.”

This time, once I’m done talking, she stays silent, making me fear I haven’t really answered the question.

I get up and I see her shake her head and take a step back, but I’m not giving up.

“You’ve got to understand, Nyx,” I plead as I come to stand in front of her, “my ex is not some cartoon villain. She’s a well-meaning girl, one I pushed away by refusing to get serious about stuff. Something I wasn’t willing to do with her, but want to do with you.”

I pause before I say, guessing this might be the thing she really wants to know, “So if you’re asking if I’m still hung up on her, she’s nothing more than a fading memory of what was never even meant to be.”

And I get a little ahead of myself and I try to take her in my arms, only for her to shoot me a nasty look.

“If you’re so in love with me,” she demands as she squints at me, “how come the only two times I saw you after the Fourth Game, you had your nose up some other girl’s skirt?”

“I was trying to get a reaction out of you,” I say in a fervent voice, shaking my head and waving my hands around in frustrated helplessness, “that’s all that was.”

She frowns at me and I understand I might not be taking this conversation slow enough, but she’s single again and she did let me in and it’s all making me feel an overwhelming impatience.

I take a step closer, leaning a little to say in a low, rushed voice, my excitement growing when I see she’s not pulling away, “Come on, Nyx. I’ve been desperate for your attention since the moment you first looked into my eyes, and that’s something you’ve known for quite some time, maybe even from the very beginning. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have acted the way you did.”

She takes a step back, frowning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

And it does seem honest, but it still makes me let out a laugh, saying, “Don’t play dumb.”

That earns me a nasty little look, but I don’t care. I take a step closer and she takes one back, now refusing to look at me. “When you invited me up here, before the Fourth Game,” I say, dropping my voice and trying to catch her eye, “to seduce me into answering your questions, you want to say you didn’t already feel you had me wrapped around your finger?”

I do another step closer and she does another step back, still refusing to look at me.

“Want to go further back?” I insist, my voice even lower but more fervent. “When you slinked into the Elevator with me, the night of the Ball, to make your little proposal, you want to say you didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to say no to you? Huh? Right after I almost got into a full-blown fight with fucking Aalders because of you?” I let out a rough little laugh. “Come on.”

Finally, she locks eyes with me. And for a second, she stays silent, before she frowns and says, pensively and with a touch of defiance, “I’m not playing dumb. It’s just…”

I hold my breath.

“I guess sometimes it’s hard to see the difference between what you want and what is.”

It makes my heart beat faster, the implication that this might be something she actually does want.

But then she just folds her arms again, gritting her teeth. For some unknown goddamn reason, I think to myself, she still doesn’t seem to believe me when I say it’s what I want.

“Look,” I start, “I haven’t even thought about anyone else in a very long time now, since the First Game.” My voice grows rough with longing when I lean in a little to say, “Because there’s this little vixen that just won’t stay out of my head, making my blood rush around whenever I lay my eyes on her.”

She looks up at me and there’s something in her eyes that’s telling me I might be getting through to her.

So I dare to say, taking a step back and raising my voice a little, “If you really don’t want to be with me, fine. I’ll get out of your hair.” I pause for a second, turning more serious than I’ve ever been as I reach into my pocket to take her ribbon out, making her look at it before I lock eyes with her again. “But if you’re walking away from this, you’re doing it knowing, without a shadow of doubt, that there’s no one else for me anymore, that you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

There’s a moment of silence before she drops her arms to her sides. “Okay,” she says, “even if I believed you, your saying you want me, what do you want from me?”

It makes hope burst into a flame inside me. “Everything,” I come to whisper in her ear, my heart starting to pound when she doesn’t pull away. “I wanted you so badly,” I start in a low, rushed voice, wrapping my fingers gently around her wrist and pulling her a little closer to me, “I was prepared to go along with any charade you made me go along with. But I don't want to have to do that anymore.”

And she stiffens a little, but she’s still not pulling away and I just keep whispering in her ear, my voice turning into a low growl, “I want to be able to see you when I fucking want to see you, I want to know you're thinking about me when we're not together, I want to make love to you, slowly, in a bed, our bed.”

My grip on her wrist tightens and still, she doesn’t pull away. “And sure,” I keep going with passion in my voice, “you've only known the player me, but if we do this, I don't want to share, with anyone, ever, not physically and not emotionally. I'm yours, body and soul, and I want the same from you.”

For a second, there’s silence. Then she pulls away, and, to my surprise, I find tears in her eyes.

“No,” she snaps in an angry, choked-up voice, making my eyebrows pull down. “And you want to know why? Because this is what you do, you asshole.”

It leaves me a little dumbfounded, her choice of words. But before I can ask what the hell she’s talking about, she takes another step back, throwing daggers at me as she says with bitterness in her voice, “You make me feel all special, like you wouldn’t change a thing about me, and then you go and tell me I’m a lot.”

What the…

“Remember that?” she drawls angrily, tears still in her eyes. And then she almost makes me laugh by seemingly trying to imitate my voice. “‘You’re a lot. And you’re like that all the fucking time. It’s exactly the kind of thing I try to avoid.’”

Then she gets in my face, jabbing her finger into her temple, “They’re here, burned into my brain, those words. You asshole.”

So that’s what this is all about, I think to myself. And it hurts, it hurts like hell, to see her in pain like that, but at the same time… It makes me so fucking happy.

Without another moment of hesitation, I grab her by the waist, I tighten my grip when she tries to fight me off, and I bury my face in her hair, whispering, “I was hurting, love. You were making me feel things and want things I’d never felt or wanted before, which got me scared as hell. Then I saw you with that fucking Aalders and I lost it.”

Feeling her relax in my arms, I let the emotions come pouring out as I keep talking into her ear, “I fucking lost it. And I wanted you to tell me it’s me you want, not him, but I wasn’t going to ask. Instead, I tried to get a reaction out of you in the most childish, pathetic way possible. To make you tell me how you feel without saying anything first. I’m so sorry, love.”

And with that, I force myself to take a step back, her somber, teary eyes remaining on me as I work on steadying my breathing so I can show her exactly how determined I am.

“But I’m done with that shit now,” I say. “So, yes, I do think you’re a lot, all the fucking time.” And that earns me this look, but I just keep going. “But if you let me, I’m going to show you exactly how big of a compliment that is. It’s one of the things I love most about you and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And I just keep standing there, waiting for her reaction with bated breath.

It makes me breathe a sigh of relief when I see her eyes soften and her muscles relax.

The next thing I know, she’s getting on her toes and throwing her arms around my shoulders. Eagerly, I wrap mine around her waist and pull her to myself.

And I feel myself nudged to lower my head a little, my heart throbbing in anticipation.

“You want to know,” she leans to whisper in my ear, making me hold my breath, “whether I think about you when we’re not together.”

A shiver runs down my spine even before she says, her voice low, soft and longing, “I think about you all the time. When I’m alone and when I’m with others, when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night.”

For a second, the words make my mind go blank. Then they send an avalanche of pleasure crashing over me and I find myself grabbing her ass to lift her up, growling into her ear, “Oh fuck, Nyx, you don’t know how good it feels to hear that.”

And my lips find hers and we kiss, deeply and passionately, as I start trying to tear the clothes off her.

She stops me, wrapping her legs tighter around me so she can pull away a little. “I missed you, Dahrian,” she whispers, my name on her lips making me let out a growl. “It was so painful thinking I didn’t matter to you.”

I make her look at me. “You don’t just matter to me. You’re everything to me.”

And I go to lay her on her bed, I take her shirt off and I come to hover over her, kissing her all over as I whisper all the things I wasn’t able to say until now, her breathing turning more ragged and her grip on my back tighter with every thing I say. How beautiful she is. How I fucking love her lips, her breasts, her ass, her legs. How they drive me crazy, her voice and the way she moves.

Barely containing myself, I lower my head to take a bite out of her belly and I pull her boxers off her, making her suck in a breath and my dick start throbbing under my pants. And I get on the floor before her, putting my head between her legs and her legs on my shoulders. And I start to kiss, lick, and tease all over, her moaning filling my ears and making me desperate for more.

She grabs a fistful of my hair and tries to pull me up, but I just look up at her, shooting her a serious look as I say, my voice low and rough, “I don’t think you understand what’s going on right now.”

She frowns.

“You won’t be giving me fifteen minutes for a quick fuck and a little chat afterwards.” I pause to make it sink in. “You’ll be spending the night with me. So right now, do you know what I want you to do?”

“What?” she asks in a breathless voice.

“I want you to come for me, love,” I whisper to her, “so I can make you come again.”

And I see her eyes glaze over and her breathing turn even heavier, but to my surprise, she doesn’t lay back.

She pushes herself up a little and starts crawling backwards, slowly, as she keeps her eyes locked with me and her legs spread. I get on the bed with her, the thrill of the anticipation making me hold my breath as I crawl after her.

As soon as her head touches the pillow, my nostrils flaring and my breathing ragged, I stop and I grab her by the thighs and I start lowering my head between her legs again, only to have her click her tongue at me and take me by the upper arm to pull me closer.

Looking deep into her eyes, I nestle myself between her legs. And I kiss her, the touch of her lips and the strokes of her tongue making my mind go blank.

But then I feel her slide her hand between her legs and I break the kiss, my eyes darting down to see her fingers start to play with her clit. Fuck. My dick starting to throb, I look up at her only to find her already staring at me with this indecipherable look in her eyes.

“Fuck, yes,” I breathe out, “touch yourself for me.”

And I see her bite her lip and the next thing I know, she’s using her other hand to get me inside her.

It makes me grit my teeth and curse out loud again, when I feel her pussy close around me and she lets out one of those delicious little moans.

Keeping myself propped up on one arm, I start sliding myself in and out of her, using the other hand to stroke and squeeze her all over, my gaze hungrily darting between her eyes and her fingers playing with her clit.

It doesn’t take long for her moaning to grow louder, especially once I up the tempo, but what makes me really lose it is when the hand she has on my back starts grabbing blindly, as if she’s starting to lose control of herself.

I’ve never gotten her this close, I think as my own desperation rises. And I pull myself out of her, making her frown at me, and I grab her by the thighs to drag her closer and put her legs on my shoulders.

And I give each a ravenous little bite, delighting in the sound it makes her produce, before I slide myself back inside her and start thrusting at the same time I start working her clit with my thumb.

Almost instantly, I see her eyes roll back and I hear her mutter, “Oh fuck, Dahrian.”

At that, my mind goes blank for a second. Then I let out this low, desperate groan, but I keep slamming myself inside her until I feel her get pushed over the edge with me, my pleasure only intensifying at the sight of her face flushing and the feel of all her muscles tensing up before they finally relax. I get out of her, still hazy and breathless, and I come to lie next to her naked body, taking her in my arms and starting to kiss her all over.

To my surprise, she rolls over so she’s in my lap, she puts her palms on my chest and she gently bites her lip, obviously wanting to say something, but hesitating.

“What is it?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her.

Her eyes dart to my lips before she asks, “Have you ever heard of—”

“Yes,” I cut her off as soon as it hits me she’s talking about the kiss. I swallow roughly. “And yes, I want it.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, but it turns out I wasn’t wrong, because the next thing I know, her eyes are glazing over again and I see her draw her fangs out a little to bite herself on the lip, a drop of blood appearing on the delicate skin.

Mesmerized, I let her kiss me, my hands hungrily dragging up and down her body as she presses herself closer to me, her kisses turning more aggressive. Fucking hell. It makes me so hard, when I finally feel the bite, the taste of my blood mixing with the taste of hers.

I sense her pull away, the flood of pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever known making me slower to react than I’d usually be.

But the very next moment, I’m grabbing her by the waist and flipping her over, my excitement only growing when the look in her eyes tells me we really will be having a second round.

Chapter 35 - Nyx

It’s deliciously dark and warm, where I’m lying, and there’s this voice drifting to me that makes me squirm softly, letting out a content sigh. And in the darkness, there’s the fox watching over me, so big yet lying curled up like a pup. Where have I seen the fox before, I start wondering, but that only makes me get all jumbled up, my eyebrows pulling down as my eyes start fighting to open.

As soon as they do, I see he’s pushed himself up a little and I’m lying nestled into him, one hand on his chest and one leg thrown over him as he keeps me pressed tight with his arm around my back. And it’s his voice that’s been stirring me from sleep.

“Just get it done, alright?” he says in a near whisper to someone over the phone.

I don’t look up, I keep enjoying his smell and the heat radiating off him.

“What’s gotten into you?” that someone demands, the voice similar to Dahrian’s, just more brusque.

And just as I start squirming to signal that I’m awake, he says, “Look, I have someone I’d like for you all to meet.”

It makes me smile from ear to ear.

“Oh,” comes the reply.

“Gotta go, Colm. Talk to you later.”

And he lowers his head to look into my eyes. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning, love,” I say as I start pushing myself up to give him a kiss, that idiotic smile still on my face.

But the kiss turns into two and then three, until he’s dragging me up and onto his lap with his tongue in my mouth. Images of last night flash through my mind, making me start burning up with the desire for more. I want him to keep making me come like he did before I feel asleep in his arms.

And my hands start moving of their own accord, trying to get rid of his shirt, but he takes my wrists in his hands and pulls away, making me frown in protest. There’s a teasing smile on his face as he says, “I’m not letting you take advantage of me any more than you have, at least not until you tell me about your plans for the summer.”

And he lets go of my wrists, giving my waist a little pinch. I laugh.

“Well,” I say, feeling a little flushed about it, “I was thinking of maybe spending it with you.”

“So here’s what I had in mind,” he starts without a second of hesitation, making me blow out a laugh. “You spend a week at my place, meet my brothers…” He pauses to add, “If it wouldn’t be too soon, of course. And then we go wherever you want. Maybe your tundra?”

That makes my eyebrows shoot up. “You’d go there with me?”

He laughs. “Dame Gothel fixed things for my Academy, Nyx. My family is taken care of. I’d move there for you, if you wanted.”

“Well,” I start as I get up, making him let out that little grumble that I love so much, “that might actually solve a huge problem for me.”

He gets up to follow me, I take him by the hand and I lead him over to my desk, where I open the drawer to show him the plans I started devising after my last visit to Vasilisa and the night before the Game.

When I look up at him, he’s squinting and smiling at the same time as his eyes scan the maps with pushpins in them and my scribbles on the margins. “Planning a world takeover, I see,” he finally says as he turns to look at me.

“Just my part of the world,” I say with a shrug. Then I light up again. “Here’s what I’m thinking, Dahrian. The solution to all my problems — my family giving me trouble with the land, my rank without marrying a prince dropping too much, my desire being more than running estates…”

He gives my hand a tug. “Come on, edge of my seat here.”

For a second, I just look at him, feeling embarrassed about it. But I decide not to be a little bitch and I say, “Seems I won’t be a princess after all.” Then I pause. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be a queen.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Fucking hell.”

It encourages me, when I realize his tone is not at all mocking. “Yes, I mean, after all, it’s not like the current nobility haven’t all done the same at some point, simply declared themselves to be kings and princes and dukes.”

“Yes, do that,” he says with this fire in his eyes.

It warms my heart, but I still frown. “I’m not sure that I can. And I’d need support from a lot of people of high rank who’d sooner think of me as a potential wife than a potential ruler.” I let out an awkward laugh. “So far, I have one supporter,” I say, thinking of Mrs Onas expressing eternal gratitude to me for finding her husband’s killer. And thinking of Mother’s reaction when I broke up with Max, again, I add, “And one person who’s not exactly a fan.”

It’s just at that moment that I hear a knock at my door and my mind immediately rushes to Nikolay.

I let go of Dahrian’s hand and I go over to the door, only to find a courier delivering flowers.

I take them with a smile and a nod, and close the door behind me.

When I turn around, flowers in my hands, I see Dahrian frowning.

But I’m pretty sure this is not from Max. Still, I rip the note off and read, letting my apparently possessive boyfriend come hover over me.

“Congratulations on winning the Game for your Academy, Lady Romanov. I hear you have also indebted us all by helping to stop one madman from ruining many lives. Your generation is lucky to have you, and I cannot wait to see what you set your mind to once you graduate. Yours, General Alaric.”

My mind rushes to Ricky and I look up at Dahrian, who’s still staring at the note, and I ask, “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head. “I will be,” he says in a hushed voice. “Don’t worry about it, love. It’ll just take some time.” And he gives me a hug, saying, “In the meantime…”

And he snatches the note from me, reading out loud, “Cannot wait, he says.” He throws me a little squint. “I see how it is now. Just as soon as I get rid of a prince, a general comes a-knocking.”

“Don’t be gross,” I snap at him, but I’m smiling. “I’ve known him since I was, like, five.”

“No, but seriously, Nyx,” he insists. “Here’s the answer to what’s troubling you.”

Yes, General Alaric. He’s always loved me for some reason. I still purse my lips. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. We’ll see.”

“Either way,” he says, “I think you should spend some time in your tundra this summer.”

I give him a smile from ear to ear. “And I want you to come with me and I want to go meet your brothers.”

I glance over my shoulder at the clock above the mantelpiece. “But right now…”

And I turn to look at him again, finding him already nodding, nudging me to get going.

But once I’m dressed and ready, he moves to come with me.

“You know, you don’t need to go running around with me,” I tell him. “I need to go to my brother, Hilde and Vasilisa. We can just meet up once I’m done.”

“Nope,” he says with a breathy laugh. And he comes to give me a deep, passionate kiss.

When I pull away, he has his hand in my back pocket and he’s saying, “From now on, I’ll be following that ass everywhere. You may as well start calling me your shadow.”

And I don’t know if it’s possible for an ass to feel smug, but if it is… Mine sure as hell does.

***

I tell Dahrian to wait for me outside, feeling this should be a private moment between my brother and me. And I find him in the same Grimm Tower dungeon in which I found Ricky, all those months ago, all bloodied and looking terrified. It all makes me frown and turn so sad, but it also makes me happy with my decision to come alone.

“Hi, Nick,” I say, in a gentle, hesitant voice, as soon as I come to stand in front of him.

He’s sitting on the stone bench with the back of his head leaned against the stone wall and his arms resting limply in his lap, his hair disheveled and his eyes bloodshot.

“Come to tell me what a bloody moron I am?” he asks, but there’s no defiance or anger in his voice.

“Actually, no,” I say as I come a little closer and take a seat on the floor in front of him, making him frown a little.

For a moment, I stay silent, suddenly understanding what I wondered about months ago — how it all turned to shit between the two of us.

It evokes the memory of the reading of Father’s will. What a spectacle Mother made of it, I think with bitterness in my mouth. And how she pulled him close when the executor read my name instead of his. And she whispered something in his ear, probably that it’s not fair, that it’s him who deserved it. And up until then, my brother’s eyes were simply my brother’s eyes filled with grief. But at that moment, something changed about the way he looked at me, and never went back to the way it used to be.

A sad smile tugging at my lips, I start in a voice barely above a whisper, “Did I ever tell you, Nick…”

He doesn’t react, but I don’t let it deter me. “Sometimes, when Father and I would take a walk, it’d be the morning after you’d put on one of your plays for us. Remember those?”

He pulls his head away from the wall and just looks at me with this pensive expression on his face.

“And you know what Father would say,” I insist on continuing, “every single time, with this warm laugh and a spark in his eyes?”

“What?” comes a whispered question.

“That one day, you’ll grow up, and he’ll forever regret not getting to see another one of King Nikolay the Brave’s adventures.”

It makes my heart throb with pain, when I see his eyes turn watery.

“Look, Nick,” I start, swallowing around a lump in my throat. “I didn’t know how you felt about Father, the land and all that crap. It was stupid of me not to see it, but I didn’t see it.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Now, let me tell you something,” I keep going, taking a deep breath so I can keep my voice steady. “Yes, I believe Father did do the right thing by leaving the land to me.”

At that, he tears his eyes away from me and turns to look at some spot to my left.

I don’t give up. “But it’s not just running his estates that you can do to make sure he’d be proud of you if he were still with us,” I tell him in a fervent voice. “There are so many paths in life. You just need to start exploring them, for real this time.”

Even before I finish saying that, it hits me, how stupid that might sound to him right now.

He turns to look at me again, letting out a scoff.

“I’m sorry, Nick. That was insensitive. But they did say you could get out in five,” I rush to say, expecting him to fall apart right in front of my eyes.

It’s at that very moment that I hear the guard give the door three sharp knocks.

And I run my hand over my face, my breathing turning shallow as I imagine my little brother being taken to the Bloodholm Authority Office and then gods knows where next. And my heart cracks and I feel tears start to well in my eyes.

But he just gives me a smile, blows an amused smile through his nose and says, in a voice that’s pensive and bone tired but somehow strong as well, “I guess I’m about to start bloody exploring.”

The guard gives another three sharp knocks before he barges in.

“This wasn’t fifteen minutes,” I snap as I get up, but my focus gets drawn to my brother again. He’s getting up, holding his hand out, making me see him in his pajamas with his teddy in his hand.

“Look, Nyx, I’m sorry,” he says, with a somber face and a fervent voice, as I grab his hand and pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry for saying you’re not my sister anymore,” he keeps talking into my ear. “You’ll always be my sister and I promise I’ll be a better brother.”

And I sense the guard come to stand behind me and I force myself to pull away. I throw him a smile, tears still in my eyes, and I turn on my heel and I start marching back up the stairs.

It’s okay, it’ll be okay, I tell myself, but my breathing remains shallow even after I reach the Grimm Tower Ground Floor.

But it’s not just Dahrian I find there. There’s Hilde rushing over to me, looking as if she’s about to cry. I have to expel a breath to stop myself from doing the same.

“I’ve come to say my goodbyes, too,” she says, all choked-up, as she comes to stop in front of me, shaking her head. “A part of me kept thinking they wouldn’t be taking him after all. Oh you must be devastated, Nyx. I’m so sorry.”

“No no,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’m the one who needs to say sorry.”

I take a deep breath, making her stop sniffling and frown at me. “Look, Hilde, here goes.” I pause for a second, anxious about what I’m about to do. “I guess I’ve always hated you a little bit.”

Her eyebrows shooting up, she lets out a scoff. “Never thought I’d say it,” she snaps, albeit warmly, “but I think I preferred it when you drew your knife at me.”

I blow a laugh through my nose. “No, listen,” I tell her, turning serious again. “It had nothing to do with you whatsoever. It was all me, me being pissed at myself for letting the world force me into making myself small.”

She tilts her head at me. “Aw.”

“Don’t you fucking ‘aw’ me,” I snap at her, but it only makes her let out a giggle.

So I roll my eyes at her and I say, fighting off the awkwardness as it starts flooding me, “Anyway, that’s all beside the point now. What I really want to get through to you, is how sorry I am for my behavior towards you, and how much I regret letting it stop me from getting to know you, like, for real.”

She raises her eyebrows at me, warmly but a little smugly as well.

“Um, so,” I start, feeling the awkwardness despite all the effort, “if you want to meet up over the summer…”

“That’s so f-ing sweet, Nyx,” she jumps in, grabbing my forearm to give it a little squeeze. “And yes, I’d love to. I mean,” she adds as she motions at Dahrian, giving me a knowing little smile, “I won’t count on it happening any time soon, but…”

I roll my eyes at her, but then I move to give her a hug. And she almost flinches, throwing me a little frown, but then she smiles and we hug, tightly.

It’s at that moment that this memory flashes through my mind, of one of the O’Malley brothers barging into my room with her when they brought me there after what happened with Ricky.

I pull away, squinting at her. “Hilde,” I ask, “are you and O’Malley…” I break off, realizing I don’t know which one.

She lets out a giggle. “Senior,” she tells me with a slightly shy smile. “And yes, we are.”

“I’m so happy for you,” I say with a grin.

She nods and we both turn serious again, remembering.

And I let her go to Nikolay, watching as she climbs down the stairs.

I only snap out of it when I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist. “You okay, love?” he murmurs in my ear.

I turn to face him, putting my hands on his chest. “He’ll be fine,” I say pensively. Then I make myself snap out of it. “You know, I actually think this is good for him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s as if he’s already a different person, you know? A more mature one.”

“You’ll go visit him all the time, and you’ll come to have a great relationship, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, Dahrian. I really do hope so. Now, I only have one more thing to do before we can finally get the fuck out of here.”

“Yes, please.”

***

I walk into the portrait room, closing the door behind me. And I’m already opening my mouth to call her name, but then my eyes land on the painting and my mind goes blank.

There’s no Lady X anymore. Now it’s a portrait of Vasilisa as I know her. She’s on horseback, looking as if she’s about to spur the horse into a gallop while throwing me this look that’s keeping me pinned in place. Ruthlessly determined and filled with this burning hunger.

Frowning, I take a step closer, my eyes dragging from the skull crown on her head, down the ancient-looking riding uniform, and then back up to her eyes. All the while, Dame Gothel’s words echo in my head. Everything will stay the same here, she said, except for one painting.

I guess I just didn’t want to think about it, the possibility of it meaning I’ll be losing Vasilisa.

Still, there’s hope in my voice when I call out to her. She doesn’t respond.

I do it again and again, with no success whatsoever.

My heart sinking low, I finally let out a sigh and walk out of her room, finding Dahrian waiting outside.

“She’s not there anymore,” I tell him with a frown.

“I was afraid of that,” he says as he comes to wrap his arm around me. “What do you want to do?”

For a second, I stay silent. Then I decide. “I’ll have the painting brought to the Winter Palace,” I say, this sadness overflowing me as I pull away, take his hand and nudge him in the direction of the stairs. “That way, I’ll be able to say goodbye to her at least. But right now…” I don’t stop going down the stairs, but I throw him a smile. “All I want is to start my summer with you.”

“You know what that is?” he leans to ask.

“What?”

“Music to my ears,” he says with a smile, making me laugh.

And we walk out of Lilith Tower and head straight for the Pull Chamber, me already having arranged for our luggage to wait for us at Dahrian’s.

“Is that him again?” he asks when my phone pings.

I whip it out and see it is, but I just keep walking, my hand still in his.

“Can’t you block him or something?” he asks.

I look up at him. “Don’t be like that.”

“Well, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“He’s not all bad.”

He blows a laugh through his nose, making me stop and look at him. “I see you don’t fully understand the nature of my hatred for him. It’s not just about his character.”

I frown at him.

“Oh I love it when you’re being thick like that, Nyx,” he tells me, making me shove at his chest for being an ass.

He lets out a laugh, grabs my waist with one hand and explains, “Fucking Aalders could become the holiest of holy men and he’d still be fucking Aalders to me,” he says with a shrug, “simply because he used to get under those pants. And what’s under those pants is mine.”

“Even if it were yours now,” I protest as I keep walking, “it sure as hell wasn’t then.”

“It was always mine,” he says matter-of-factly, “I just wasn’t at the location yet.”

That makes me have to stifle a laugh.

“Still, he should’ve known,” he continues scoldingly. “He was trespassing and I hate to say it, but I’m not a forgiving man.”

“Oh yes you are.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

I look up at him again, smiling and rolling my eyes. “You idiot.”

It makes his face light up. But then his eyes dart ahead and I turn to see the Pull Chamber appear from between the bushes.

My eyebrows pull down as soon as I spot her. Mother, standing next to the cast-iron fence, throwing daggers at Dahrian.

***

We both stop midstep. I let go of Dahrian’s hand and start moving toward her, sensing Dahrian staying put to give me space.

“So it really is true, what they’re all saying?” Mother demands as I come to a stop before her, thumbing her nose with her eyes still fixed on my boyfriend. Then she turns to look at me. “Even the part with him climbing up the Tower to you like some ape?”

I let out a sigh, surprised to see how little I care. “What’re you doing here, Mother?”

“Stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life,” she says with the usual conviction in her voice. “Maybe it’s a good thing, that you haven’t stayed with Max.”

My eyebrows pull down.

“It seems he’s fallen out of favor with the King due to some gambling incident,” she explains.

“I don’t really care,” I tell her.

“Anastasya,” she starts, obviously fighting to stay civil, “you have two roads ahead of you.” She glances at Dahrian again. “You can go with him and thus effectively ruin your life — because no one will have you once they find out who you’ve been with.”

The warning look she throws me almost makes me let out a laugh.

“Or you can realize he’s a mistake and let me find the next best match for you.”

For a second, I just look at her. Then I run my hand over my face, let out a sigh and take a step closer to her. “I want you to leave, Mother. Right now.”

She lets out a scoff. “What did you say to me, girl?”

Deciding not to put up with another second of her bullshit, I let my mind make the connection with the blood coursing through her hand. I see the flash of surprise in her eyes. I make the hand close into a fist. “I said,” I tell her softly, “I want you to leave, Mother. Right now.”

And I think it’s more my indifference than my Blood Magic that scares her. She just blinks at me for a second. Then she grits her teeth and says, “We’ll talk over the holidays, Anastasya,” before she pushes past me and walks away.

Smiling, I turn to face Dahrian, finding him already in front of me. “Big day, huh?” he asks with a smile.

I roll my eyes and grab him by the hand. Blowing out a little laugh, he lets me start dragging him to the Pull Chamber.

And I move to open the fence door, but he stops me.

I turn to look at him and find his eyes sweeping over the castle grounds.

“This place…,” he says, turning to look at me with such soft eyes. “I’m so grateful to this place, Nyx. For allowing me to finally meet you.”

“And whisk me away,” I add with a grin.

He lets out a laugh and grabs me by the waist. “Oh you don’t need whisking away. But I’ll do it anyway, my little vixen.”

And he kisses me, deeply, and I give him a little bite on the neck and I pull him into the Chamber with me. There, I jump into his lap and let him spin me around, laughing, as the Pull zaps us out of Grimm Academy and straight into a brand new life.

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