Usually, they don’t allow freshmen off campus. The rules are clear—too much liability, too much temptation, too many ways to get ourselves killed or worse. The most we get is staring out past the wards at the beautiful expanse of untouched forests, imagining what freedom tastes like.
But leave it to Brix. Of course, he’d be the one to smash through the limits the rest of us are stuck in. Top of his Wrath class, winner of the combat trials for the Freshman sin training class. The pride of his instructors.
His reward? One sanctioned evening off academy grounds. And instead of picking one of his buddies to celebrate with, or even flying solo so he can show off to the upperclassmen, he invited… me.
Well—invited is a loose term. More like cornered me in the courtyard and announced it loud enough for everyone within ten feet to hear.
“For the record,” he’d said after, muttering under his breath, “it’s strictly so we can keep our jealousy act running strong.”
Still, when I meet him at the gates, I can’t stop the little flutter in my chest. The academy walls loom behind us, wards glowing as the sundrops low, while ahead the winding road curls toward the small town everyone talks about—bars, shops, late-night food. Academy Hollow.
I’m guessing that since our cafeteria rarely has even a quarter of the student body in attendance, this is where students spend their free time.
I tuck my hands into my coat pockets as we walk through the winding cobblestones of the small town. “So… this is all just strategy, huh? You couldn’t possibly have just wanted to spend an evening off campus with your good friend Arwen?”
Brix flashes that almost-charming, almost-suspicious grin. “Oh please. You think I’d waste my one night of freedom on bond torture duty if you weren’t such excellent company?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, so I’m excellent company now?”
“Don’t twist my words.” He nudges my shoulder lightly. “I said that you’re tolerable. That’s Wrath language for excellent company. You should know that.”
I laugh despite myself. The road dips, and the village lights flicker overhead—warm gold scattered against the dark like fireflies. For a moment, I forget about the council, about the potion, about how my bonds are strangling me from the inside out. It’s just me and Brix, trading barbs on a cold evening, heading toward a world that feels off-limits and dangerous in the best way. Freedom.
“Fine,” I say, smirking up at him. “One date. Strictly professional. Just to make Atticus jealous.”
“Exactly,” he says, voice all mock seriousness. But when he glances at me, his grin softens, and for a heartbeat it doesn’t feel like a game at all.
It’s too dangerous and too easy to fall for Brix.
When we reach our destination, Brix holds the door open for me like a true gentleman. The pub is louder than I expected. Smoke curls from the fireplace in the corner, and the air smells like spiced cider and roasted meat. I’m still shaking off the chill of the walk outside the wards when my eyes snag on Atticus. Just as expected.
The second I see him slouched at a corner table with a few of his Pride friends. Brix was right to guess we’d run into him. I was prepared to run into him. I hadn’t anticipated his appearance.
No date hanging on his arm. No signature arrogant smirk. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His shoulders are tight, his eyes are hollow, and he hasn’t touched his drink. He looks—miserable.
For half a second, our gazes catch across the room. His posture locks up, sharp and sudden. and then he looks away, his hand curling tight around his glass.
Brix notices like he always does. His grin widens, satisfied, and he drapes an arm across my shoulders with exaggerated ease.
“Table for two?” he tells the hostess, his voice carrying. “Somewhere cozy.”
I play along because that’s what this whole thing is supposed to be. An act. A show.
Still, when Brix’s hand brushes the back of my neck as he guides me toward a booth, my heart skips at the contact.
Stop being a hussy, Arwen. Brix is a friend, not food.
Once we’re seated, I keep my eyes on the menu.
“He looks rough.” I mumble.
Brix nods. “Good," he snaps.
Then, his eyes flick to mine, a flicker of something softer breaking through. “Are you… okay?”
I nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
His brow creases, but he lets it go, sliding into a new topic like he always does when things get too close to the edge.
