“I don’t want to talk about it.” I cross my arms and huff. “The point is, when you’re that young, you don’t know there are other options. Then, if you’re anything like me, you hit middle school and try to rebel.”
There’s no way Nina’s anything like me. She probably doesn’t even know how to spell the word rebel, and she’s the smartest in our class—even smarter than Evie.
“I tried that once. The whole rebellion thing.” Her voice goes quiet, and I press my lips together, surprised by this sudden admission of hers. “I was thirteen. I stopped taking notes for a week. Told my mother I wanted to be normal. That I wanted friends, not sources.”
“What happened?”
“She showed me the family ledgers. Every piece of information we’d sold. Every alliance we’d brokered. Every disaster we’d helped people avoid because we knew things others didn’t. Then she showed me what happened to families who didn’t have our protection, and I’ve been cataloguing ever since.” Her grip on the rock tightens. “But when you laughed today, when we were tangled up and disoriented, I realized something. I didn’t want to catalogue it or write a report on it. I just wanted to... experience it.”
The crowd below starts moving—Garrett and Lauren’s match is over.
“We should head back before Kieran sends a search party,” I say, but I don’t move yet.
Nina tosses a stone over the edge. “Jade? What we just talked about, about my family…”
“Stays between us,” I finish. “I’m apparently not worth reporting on anyway, remember?”
Something flashes across her face—maybe gratitude, maybe relief. “Right. The dead bloodline girl with barely functional magic. Completely forgettable.”
“That’s me. Totally forgettable.”
She gives me a sharp look, then shakes her head. “Come on. If we miss the next match, Kieran will make us run laps. With weights. On fire.”
“Just another day at the Hunger Games Gladiator Supernatural Academy,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
And then, as if by some miracle, Nina actually laughs.
JADE
Three weekssince the Void Pit.
Three weeks of training. Three weeks of fighting in arenas that have their own special way of trying to kill you, while hiding secret magic that might get you killed if anyone knows it exists. Three weeks of managing to claw my way to a 2-2 record, thanks to a win against Garrett in the Mirror Vault last week and the one against Sam in the Ember Ring yesterday.
One more win. That’s all I need to avoid kitchen and grounds duty for next semester.
As it is now, half of the first-years had the same idea as me—come to the library on a Saturday morning to catch up on the studying we’ve been ignoring for combat training. The place looks like a refugee camp for the academically desperate. Rebecca’s in the corner, surrounded by what looks like every Pyropsychology text ever written. Sam’s building some kind of fort out of his books, probably trying to hide from Vera after she destroyed him in yesterday’s match.
I’ve claimed a corner table, surrounding myself with piles of textbooks and notes. My Flame & Dominion essay about treatiesbetween supernatural creatures sits in front of me, half-finished and making about as much sense as my electricity magic.
The words blur together as I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting to last night.
To Logan’s hands on my skin. The way he held me when he corrected my stances. The way our faces got so close during that last defensive drill that I swear he was a second away from kissing me again.
Then, like always, he pulled back.
I slam my book shut harder than necessary, earning a glare from Rebecca.
“Sorry,” I mouth at her, then bury my face in my hands.
Get it together, Jade. You’re here to study, not to pine over your emotionally unavailable combat instructor who happens to kiss like?—
“Working hard, I see.”
I jump, nearly dropping my pen. Professor Thaddeus stands beside my table, that perpetual half-smile on his face that never quite reaches his eyes.
“Professor.” I straighten in my chair, trying to look like I wasn’t just fantasizing about Logan. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“A common problem in this library.” He glances at my scattered papers, and his expression shifts to something that might be concern. “However, I came over here for a reason. Because I must admit, I’ve noticed your performance in my class has been... declining.”
