“Every moment was supposed to be building toward this perfect future they’d planned for me,” I continue. “Mock trials in middle school. SAT prep starting freshman year. A private college counselor who basically wrote my application essays for me.” I laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Then I got rejected from every school and ruined everything. Their perfect plan, their perfect daughter—gone. Shipped to some unknown college none of us had ever heard of that invited me to attend at the last minute.”
“You think Blaze Academy ruined things?”
“For them? Absolutely. Their daughter isn’t going to be the next generation of Harrington legal dynasty.” I shrug. “For me? Jury’s still out. Some days I wake up here and think it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, I can make fire with my mind. That’s pretty cool. Other days...” I gesture at the fight taking place below. “Other days I wonder if I’ve accidentally enrolled in some kind of supernaturalHunger Games.”
“My mother would say Blaze Academy is just another tool for advancement,” Nina says quietly. “Another way to be better than everyone else. Another advantage to leverage in the family business.”
“What sort of family business?” I ask, even though Evie told me a bit about it after that encounter in Pyropsychology class.
Nina’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically see her weighing her words. “Information. We’ve been collecting and cataloguing information for generations.” She pauses. “My mother says knowledge is the only currency that matters.”
“So, you’re what—supernatural private investigators?”
“More like... archivists with a profitable side business.” Her tone turns slightly bitter. “My mother has contacts in every major coven, pack, clan, and court.”
“And she expects you to...?”
“Notice everything.” Nina’s fingers drum against the rock. “Every person I meet is supposed to be evaluated for their potential value. What they know, who they know, and what they might become.”
Notice everything.
My blood runs cold.
She knows. She has to know. This is where she tells me she’s been watching me, that she knows about the electricity, about Logan, about?—
“And?” I try to keep my voice casual. “Have you been evaluating me?”
Maybe it’s too obvious of a question, but I have to know. I justhaveto.
Nina gives me a look that’s almost pitying. “What’s there to evaluate? You’re from a dead magical bloodline. Your magic is barely functional. Half the school is taking bets on whether you’ll make it through the semester or not.”
The dismissal stings, even though it’s exactly what I want her to think. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m not trying to be cruel. Just honest.” She shrugs. “My mother would say you’re not worth the ink it would take to write a report.”
“Then why are you telling me all this?”
Nina’s quiet for a long moment. “Maybe because you’re the first person who’s made me laugh during a fight.”
“To be fair, I was also pretty sure I was going to lose, so laughing seemed like a good alternative to crying,” I admit, giving her what I hope is a friendly smile.
She smiles back at that—again. “See? Most people would make excuses or insist they were strategic. You just... admit things.”
I almost laugh at the irony, but miraculously, I control my facial expressions. At least, I hope I do.
We watch Garrett finally yield to Lauren, his dramatic fighting style no match for her methodical approach, and I’m still trying to figure out Nina’s angle. Why tell me about her family? Why admit she’s supposed to be cataloguing everyone?
Unless she thinks she canrelateto me about it? And that she’s making a friend?
Isshe making a friend?
“You hate it,” I realize. “The family business. The watching and recording.”
Nina’s fingers still on the rock. “I’ve been taking notes since I could hold a pen,” she says quietly. “Recording observations since I was five. My first report was about the neighborhood children—their magical potential, family connections, and useful traits.” Her voice turns bitter. “My mother was so proud. She said I had the family eye. Like noticing which five-year-old might be worth befriending was some kind of gift.”
“I get it,” I say softly. “Every playdate of mine was a networking opportunity. My summer camps were chosen based on which hedge fund titan’s kids would be attending. I thought squash would be fun until I realized it was simply a way to network with the Greenwich crowd.”
“Squash?” She raises an eyebrow in surprise.
