Oh.That’swhat this is about. She thinks I’m going to break Oliver’s heart.
At least this is something I won’t have to lie about.
“Trust me, there’s no need to worry.” I keep my voice gentle. “I’m not even going to the party tonight.”
Her whole body sags with relief. “You’re not?”
“No. I’ve got essays to write and tournament matches to train for.” I gesture at my book fortress. “Besides, Oliver’s great, but he’s not...” I trail off before I say that he’s notLogan.“It’s not like that between us.”
“Right. Good.” Avery stands quickly, nearly knocking her chair over. “I’m sorry. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come over here.”
“It’s fine. And for what it’s worth,” I add as she turns to go, “Oliver’s lucky to have you as a partner. Even if he doesn’t see it yet.”
She pauses, something flickering across her face. “Thanks, Jade. And... sorry again.”
Then she’s gone, her vanilla perfume lingering like a ghost.
I shake my head and return my focus to the book Thad gave me.
T’s impossible face stares up from ancient pages, and I realize I’ve been running from one impossible situation to another all morning. My pilot is a goddess. My professor might know something he shouldn’t. My heart belongs to someone who won’t take it. And I still have a Flame & Dominion essay to write.
One crisis at a time,I think, shoving the divine interference book into my bag and pulling my textbook closer, forcing myself to focus on treaty negotiations between vampires and witches in the 1800s. It’s boring as hell, but at least it’s straightforward. No hidden meanings, no torn pages, and no faces that shouldn’t exist staring up from ancient texts. Just dates, signatures, and the careful dance of supernatural politics.
Whatever Thad meant by giving me that book, whatever game he’s playing, I’ll figure it out. Eventually. When I’m not drowning in homework, combat training, and constantly trying to contain my forbidden magic in an imaginary glass sphere.
Focus,I remind myself.Treaty negotiations. Vampires. Witches. 1800s. You can do this.
And I do. Sort of. I manage three whole pages about blood rights and territorial disputes before my mind drifts back to Logan. To T. To the word “champion” that keeps echoing in my head.
But that’s future Jade’s problem.
Current Jade has an essay to write and a tournament to survive.
JADE
I walkthrough the hidden door at Phoenix Hall into the secret passages, and as always, Logan’s already there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting for me. He looks tired tonight—more tired than usual—with shadows under his eyes that make me wonder if he’s been sleeping.
“The Forge Party means the Scorched Circles are out tonight. I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says, although the relief that crosses his face suggests otherwise.
“I’ll always come.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I immediately want to take them back because wow, that sounded way more suggestive than I intended. “To training, I mean. I’ll always come to training. That’s what I meant.”
His eyes take on that intense look they get whenever I swear he’s about to kiss me, and I stand perfectly still, holding my breath like a complete idiot because maybe if I don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t do anything to break this moment, he’ll finally?—
“With the Scorched Circles out, I have somewhere else in mind,” he interrupts my thoughts, turning away and leading me deeper into the tunnels.
I follow, trying not to feel disappointed as we eventually branch off and climb endless spiral stairs, my thighs burning with each step.
“How much further?” I ask, my voice echoing off stone walls.
“Almost there.”
Finally, we reach a heavy door marked with constellations. Logan presses his palm against it, and it shimmers open.
“After you.” He motions for me to enter first, and I step through into the observatory.
The transformation from cramped passages to a soaring space makes me dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the way starlight pours through the glass dome overhead, turning everything silver. The constellation maps in the floor pulse brighter than they did when I was here with Margot, and everything feels more intense and overwhelming than it did then, like the universe turned up the volume on all my senses.
When Logan enters, it’s like someone adjusted the lens through which I see him, bringing everything into sharp focus. The way starlight catches in his dark hair, highlighting angles that belong in a museum. The careful way he moves, always in control, always holding himself back. The slight tension in his shoulders that never quite leaves. The way his hands flex at his sides when he looks at me, like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching out.
