Chapter 64

Chapter 64: Chapter 64

Killian stood in the shadows of the potions lab, his hands trembling, his mind a storm of rage and desperation.

The note had failed. He had slipped it under Nyra’s door with careful precision, had waited for the fear to take root, had expected her to crack under the pressure. But she hadn’t. She was still walking around the academy with her head held high, still training with Soren, still smiling at her friends like she didn’t have a care in the world.

And Corvin—Corvin was still watching her. Still following her. Still looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

Why? Killian thought, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. Why does he look at her like that? What does she have that I don’t?

He had followed Corvin again last night. Had watched from the shadows as Corvin worked in the potions lab, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his hands moving with such precision and grace. Killian had wanted to go to him. Had wanted to touch him. Had wanted to make him understand.

But Corvin didn’t see him. Corvin never saw him.

Because of Thorne. Always because of Thorne.

The door to the lab slammed open. Xavier and Nikolai strode in, their expressions hard.

"Varek sent word," Nikolai said without preamble. "He’s growing impatient. He wants results."

"I’m working on it."

"You’ve been ’working on it’ for weeks." Xavier’s voice was sharp, all traces of his usual charm gone. "The prince is still alive. The Sword Sovereign is still protecting him. And you’ve been leaving threatening notes like a child playing games."

"The note was meant to unsettle him—"

"It was meant to do nothing. It was a risk. A foolish one. Eldritch is already suspicious of you—we heard about your little encounter in the lab."

Killian’s jaw tightened. "I can handle Eldritch."

"Can you? Because from where we’re standing, you’re becoming a liability." Nikolai stepped closer, his cold eyes boring into Killian’s. "Lord Varek doesn’t tolerate liabilities. If you can’t deliver results, we’ll find someone who can."

"I can deliver. Just give me more time."

"You have until the Silvermoon delegation arrives. If Thorne isn’t dead by then, we do this my way. And you won’t like my way."

They left him alone in the cold laboratory, the threat hanging in the air like smoke.

Killian stood motionless for a long moment. Then he pulled the vial of nightshade essence from his pocket and stared at it.

One more week, he thought. One more week, and it will all be over.

The academy was transforming.

Banners in the crimson and gold of the royal colors were being hung from every tower. The grand hall was being prepared for the welcome feast, its long tables polished to a mirror shine. The east wing dormitories freshly renovated were being aired out and furnished for the seventy Silvermoon students who would arrive in a matter of days.

Finn and Ragnar trained together in the afternoon sessions, their sparring matches drawing a small crowd of spectators. Finn had improved significantly since his first days at the academy—his strikes were sharper, his footwork more confident. He still couldn’t beat Ragnar, but he was getting closer.

"Almost," Ragnar said, blocking Finn’s final strike and using the momentum to pull him close. "You’re telegraphing your right hook. Keep your elbow in."

"Are you going to critique my form or kiss me?"

"Both."

He kissed him quickly—too quickly for anyone to notice—and released him. "Again."

Finn grinned. "Again."

Across the training grounds, Jasper sat on a bench with his ever-present book, his sharp eyes tracking the movements of every student on the field. He wasn’t reading. He was observing. Cataloguing. Analyzing. It was what he did best.

Marek appeared beside him, silent as always, and offered him a waterskin.

"Thank you." Jasper took it without looking away from the field. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Everything. The way people move. The way they interact. The way certain people—" his eyes flicked briefly toward where Nyra was training with Soren’s group, "—look at each other when they think no one is watching."

Marek followed his gaze. "Thorne and Thornridge?"

"Among others."

"Not our business."

"No." Jasper finally looked at him. "But it’s interesting."

Marek nodded slowly. "Interesting."

They sat together in comfortable silence, watching the academy prepare for the storm that was coming.

At Silvermoon Academy, the carriages were being loaded.

The courtyard was a bustle of activity students in pristine white and silver uniforms carrying trunks and training equipment, instructors calling out last-minute instructions, servants checking harnesses and polishing the gleaming carriage doors.

The mysterious student leader stood at the center of it all, her posture perfect, her expression serene. She was addressing the assembled students with the calm authority of someone who had done this many times before.

"Remember," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the courtyard, "we are not just representing ourselves. We are representing Silvermoon Academy. The King and Queen will be watching. Every dignitary in the Seven Packs will be watching. Let them see our grace. Our skill. Our excellence."

She smiled—a careful, practiced smile.

"The Shadowmoon students think they are superior because they train warriors. But we train leaders. And at this showcase, we will remind them of that. We will show them what true excellence looks like."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled students.

"Now," she said, "let’s not keep them waiting."

She turned and climbed into the lead carriage with the fluid grace of someone who had been born to command attention. The other students followed, and within minutes the caravan was underway—a line of gleaming white carriages winding through the mountain pass toward Shadowmoon Academy.

Inside the lead carriage, the mysterious student leader gazed out the window at the distant mountains, her expression unreadable.

Soon, she thought. Soon I’ll see him again. The prince. The heir. The man I’m supposed to marry.

A flicker of something—anticipation crossed her perfect features.

I hope you’re ready, Soren. Because I’ve been waiting a long time for this.

That evening, Nyra sat with her roommates in the Undercroft dorm, sharing a meal of bread and stew that Finn had smuggled from the cafeteria.

"So," Finn said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "you and the Sword Sovereign."

Nyra choked on her bread. "What?"

"You’ve been spending a lot of time together. Private training sessions. Walks in the garden. Lingering glances across the training ground." Finn leaned forward. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"There’s nothing to tell."

"Thorne. We’ve been roommates for months. I know when you’re lying. Your left eye twitches."

"It does not."

"It does. Marek, back me up."

Marek looked up from his stew. "It does."

"Jasper?"

Jasper didn’t look up from his book. "Definitely twitches."

Nyra threw a piece of bread at Finn. "You’re all insufferable."

"We’re your friends. It’s our job to be insufferable." Finn caught the bread and ate it. "But seriously. You and Thornridge. Is it... a thing? A real thing?"

Nyra hesitated. She looked at their faces—Finn’s eager curiosity, Marek’s quiet patience, Jasper’s sharp attention. These were her friends. Her pack. The people who had waited outside the healer’s wing while she lay dying, who had defended her against Draven, who had worried about her for three agonizing days while she was lost in the Mistwood.

She owed them the truth. Or at least, part of it.

"Yes," she said quietly. "It’s a real thing."

Finn’s face split into a triumphant grin. "I knew it! I absolutely knew it! Marek, you owe me five silvers."

Marek sighed and reached for his coin purse. "I was hoping you’d forgotten."

"I never forget a bet. Especially one I win."

"You bet on my love life?" Nyra demanded.

"Of course we did. We’re roommates. It’s tradition." Finn pocketed the coins. "So. What’s it like? Kissing the Ice Wolf? Is he actually ice-cold, or is that just a rumor?"

"Finn!"

"I’m asking for scientific purposes."

"I’m not answering that."

"That’s an answer in itself." Finn’s grin softened into something more genuine. "I’m happy for you, Thorne. Really. You deserve something good. Especially after everything you’ve been through."

Nyra felt a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you."

"But if he hurts you," Finn added, "I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he’s the Sword Sovereign. I’ll find a way."

"I’ll help," Marek said.

"I’ll document it," Jasper added.

Nyra laughed. "I appreciate the support. But I don’t think it’ll be necessary."

"Good." Finn raised his cup. "To Thorne. And to love. And to not getting murdered by the Sword Sovereign."

They drank, and for a little while, the dormitory felt like the safest place in the world.

The Proctor’s final briefing was held in the main hall at dusk.

"Tomorrow morning, the Silvermoon delegation will arrive," Kane announced, his voice carrying across the crowded chamber. "They will be our guests for the next two weeks. You will treat them with respect. You will train alongside them. You will demonstrate the strength and discipline that has made Shadowmoon the premier academy in the realm."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled students.

"There will be joint training sessions. Joint meals. Joint events. And at the end of the two weeks, the talent showcase itself attended by the King and Queen and every dignitary of note. This is the most important event in this academy’s history. Do not embarrass us."

A murmur of determination rippled through the students.

"Senior Lecturer Valeria Morvane will oversee the welcoming committee. She will assign duties and coordinate the initial reception. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow, everything changes."

The students dispersed, and Valeria approached Nyra with her usual calm smile.

"Prince Thorne. I’d like you to be part of the welcoming committee."

Nyra tensed. "Me?"

"You’re one of our most notable students. The heir to the Astrlyn pack. It would be appropriate for you to be among those greeting the delegation." Valeria’s smile didn’t waver. "Unless you have a reason to refuse?"

The same trap. The same impossible choice.

"I’d be honored," Nyra said.

"Excellent. Report to the east courtyard at dawn. And Thorne?" Valeria leaned closer, her voice dropping. "I’m glad we’ve moved past our earlier... difficulties. I think we can be great allies, you and I."

She walked away, leaving Nyra staring after her with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Allies, Luna said skeptically. Since when does Valeria want to be allies?

Since she decided I was more useful to her as a friend than an enemy.

Or since she decided she needed to get closer to you to figure out your secret.

Either way, I’ll be ready.

The academy settled into an uneasy quiet as night fell. Tomorrow, the Silvermoon delegation would arrive. Tomorrow, everything would change.