The sphere punches through the vortex and continues its trajectory straight through the goalposts.
Goal.
Time slows down
Then the crowd explodes.
The referee’s whistle blows, and the scoreboard updates with a bit of magic.
Hexrush: 4. Sigil Strikers: 3.
We won.
We actually won.
My teammates swarm me, shouting and cheering and clapping me on the back so hard I nearly lose my balance. Leo wraps his arms around me in a crushing hug, laughing like a maniac.
“You did it!” he shouts. “You fucking did it!”
“We did it,” I correct, grinning so wide my face hurts.
Across the field, the Strikers slump their shoulders in defeat, but they’re good sports about it, shaking hands with one another and their coach. And then I see Morgan walking toward me.
I extract myself from my teammates, then go meet her.
Morgan stops a few feet away, her expression unreadable. Strands of red hair have escaped from her long braid, and they cling to her sweaty cheeks and forehead. For a moment, we just look at each other—two captains, two competitors, two people who had something at one time but don’t anymore.
Then she extends her hand. “Good game, Vandermere. You earned that win.”
I take her hand and shake it firmly. Her skin is still hot from her fire magic. “You too. Your team played hard.”
“Not hard enough,” she says with a wry smile. Then her expression softens. “I saw you with Poppy last night. At the ball.”
I pull my hand out of hers. “Morgan—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts gently. “Really. I see the way you look at her, the way she looks at you.” She pauses, then adds, “You’re a worthy opponent. Both of you.” There’s no bitterness in her voice, just quiet acceptance and maybe a little sadness, like maybe she wanted to try again with me, even after it failed the first time.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “That means a lot.”
She nods, then steps back. “See you next semester, Captain.”
She jogs away, rejoining her team, and I watch her go with a strange mixture of relief and regret. Morgan and I may not have worked out romantically, but I’m glad we can end this chapter with respect intact.
“Vandermere!” Coach Grayward’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and he waves ahand at me. “A word.”
I jog over to where he’s standing on the sidelines, his arms crossed, his expression as stern as ever. I wonder if all wolf shifters are so gruff.
My stomach clenches when I meet his eyes. Even after winning the game, I can’t shake the anxiety that he’s about to tell me I screwed something up—or failed every single one of my final exams.
“You played well today,” he says, which is about as close to a compliment as Coach ever gets.
I nod once. “Thank you, sir.”
“And I heard back from the academic board.” He pauses, and my heart hammers in my chest. “You passed. All your classes. Congratulations, Vandermere.”
The relief is so overwhelming I nearly stagger.
“I—really?”
