I smile faintly. Grateful for the change of subject, and the reminder that apparently spontaneous combustion is athingnow.
Tamsin snorts again. “Just don’t blow up the east wing. I like my dorm intact.”
“That was one time, and it didn’t blow up anythingimportant,” Nolan says, mock wounded.
“One time too many,” Tamsin shoots back, grinning.
I shake my head, smiling. “Should I be worried if I get scheduled for Alchemy?”
Nolan’s expression turns earnest. “You’ll be fine. Worst case, sit near the door.”
I laugh, and the tension in my shoulders eases.
Then it’s back, that prickling awareness along my spine. I glance up again, too quick to stop myself. Raiden hasn’t moved. His eyes are still locked on me, watching silently.
His gaze meets mine, steady. No smirk. No wink. No apology for staring. Heat coils low in my stomach, unwelcome.Not an attraction exactly. Just—instinct. Like something wild knows you’ve seen it watching you. And you might be in danger.I tear my eyes away, face suddenly warm.
Tamsin’s still talking—something about a spell duel that ended in frogspawn last year—but her voice fades beneath the pulse in my ears.
Nolan notices. He leans in, dropping his voice. “Ignore them.”
I nod, forcing a breath. “Trying.”
Tamsin glances between us. “You’ll get used to it,” she says lightly. “Or they’ll get bored. One of the two.”
I’m not so sure.
Another glance, quick this time—Raiden is still there. Still watching.
A soft chime rings out overhead, not a bell, exactly. More like a note plucked on a string inside my skull. Along with the knowledge that lunch is over. Chairs scrape, bags shuffle, voices rise.
Nolan stands, flashing me a grin. “Want to walk to your next class together?”
“Yeah,” I say, grateful for the out.
We head toward the door. I don’t look back at Raiden’s table. I don’t have to. The air feels heavier behind me, buzzing like a silent warning.
I don’t know what I did to piss in his Cheerios, but clearly I did something.And his attention? It isn’t friendly.
FIVE
LINDSAY
By the timeI finally make it back to the dorm, the sky outside the high windows is a deep indigo, stars faint behind thin clouds.
My head is pounding. My legs ache. My skin still hums with the aftershocks of too much magic and too many stares.
I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and collapse backward onto the thin mattress, letting out a deep breath. For a minute—just one—I think I might actually get to rest. I stare at the cracked ceiling, breath slowing.
Maybe tomorrow will be easier. Maybe the whispers will fade. Maybe—the door creaks open.
I tilt my head just as Tamsin saunters in, tossing her cloak onto her bed. Her eyes are bright. Too bright.
“Oh no,” I groan. “Whatever that look is, the answer is no.”
She grins wickedly. “You haven’t even heard the question.”
“I’ve had enough for one day,” I mutter. “I was planning to not die. Maybe sleep.”
