“I don’t like it,” he mutters, almost under his breath. I glance at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s too risky. The Councilors… they could try something. Exile you before you even finish. If something goes wrong…” His voice trails off, the threat hanging in the air.
“I know,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I know it’s risky. But I have to try.”
My hands clench in my lap. “I have to believe there is some good on the Council. That there’s a part of them that can see me for who I am and what I can bring, not just the power I lack. I have to prove I deserve to be here—even without a sin power.”
He shifts his weight, frowning.
I continue with my reasoning. “It would be safer… for both of us… if you didn’t have to get past your father’s mental shields. This plan—you could get hurt. This could affect your future as the heir.”
“Arwen, I’m confident in my decision...” Atticus starts.
“I know you’re trying to protect me,” I say, “but I can’t let fear stop me. Not today.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “Atticus… please trust me.”
His gaze locks with mine, dark and unyielding. For a long moment, silence stretches between us. I can feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens.
He exhales, a reluctant surrender. “Fine. I trust you. I'll hold off on using my power. But the moment something feels wrong, I'm stepping in.”
A small surge of relief trickles through me, but there’s no time to celebrate. My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance down. The alert from Dean Bellows makes my stomach tighten:Councilors arriving.
I look back at Atticus, trying to read his expression. His eyes are hard, focused, but beneath it I catch the tidal wave of… worry. Concern. For me.
“They’re here,” I say, voice steady, though my pulse is racing.
He nods, standing straighter. “Then we make sure you’re ready. Every second counts.”
I inhale deeply, letting the sunlight continue to wash over me. It’s possibly the most important day of my life, and I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin.
***
Maddox
I should have expected the summons the moment Arwen told me the council was coming. Of course, my father wouldn’t waste anopportunity to fill me in on all the “successes” my siblings are having while I’m holed up at the academy.
I nod, words barely registering as he goes on about territory squabbles.
“You're right.” I agree, always honoring the King Thug of Gluttony.
But my mind isn’t on him or his petty updates. It’s on a red headed, sinless girl with a heart of steel and a soul of fire. I wonder how she’s holding up. I know she’s not going down without a fight, and somehow that thought hammers through the fog of my other responsibilities.
When I left the classroom yesterday, I had to fight off these conflicting feelings on the training grounds. Pretty sure my father received a bill for five destroyed practice dummies when he arrived today. Potions might be my specialty, but I can scrap as well as any basic Wrath.
Tossing and turning all night, guilt pressing down on me like a steel plate with one thought over and over in my head:I could save her life.
I hate the thought that the wounded look she gave me yesterday might be the last.
“Sorry… am I boring you? I figured you’d be more concerned,” my father drawls, voice snapping me back.
Concerned? That catches me. Did I miss something important?
“My fault, Father. I didn’t catch that- please continue.”
He leans back, eyes glinting. “Your brother… Raven. He’s taken control of your main club in Feastwell.”
Shit. How the hell did I miss this? Heads will roll when I find out who let this slip. I grind my teeth, every nerve screaming. One of my own clubs lost while I’m distracted? Unacceptable.
“Apologies, Father. I need to go handle some business,” I say, standing, not willing to lose another second. He could've told me this first, but he wanted to play with me.
