I look at him, really look at him. He’s worried for me. I can see it all over his face.
“I’m not going to be stupid about this,” I say quietly.
He holds my gaze. “Don’t let him get inside your head, Linds. That’s how they start. They act like they’re helping. Like they’re giving you a choice.”
“And then?”
“They stop asking.”
Tamsin glances over at me,a half-eaten apple in one hand, her dark brow arching high. “Hewhat? Auron isn't nice to anyone but Bloods.”
I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “Yeah. Nolan told me. And I’ve seen it first-hand.”
She narrows her eyes, clearly not loving that answer. “Define nice. Like…actually nice? Or the weird, vaguely threatening kind where he pretends to be charming right before stabbing you with a metaphorical dagger?”
I lift my hands in surrender. “I don’t know! He just—sat down. Talked. Warned me about the Circle of Blood like he wasn’t literally a walking recruitment poster for them. Then got up and left.”
Tamsin lowers the apple slowly, setting it on the table. “That’s not just weird, Lindsay. That’s shady as hell. Auron doesn’t warn. He manipulates. He tests.”
“Well, I failed, I guess, because I'm talking about him,” I mutter, glancing around the dining room for Nolan. He said he’d meet us for dinner. “Have you seen Nolan?”
“Not since lunch.” she says with a shrug, before she leans in across the table, her tone low and serious now. “But you need to know that Auron’s one of them, Linds. Born and bred Bloodlineelite. He’s got ink on his back older than half the first-years. They don’t let him off his leash unless they want something.”
I rest my forehead against the cool surface of the table. “Why does everyone want something from me lately?”
“Because you’ve got the Veil’s attention. And in a place like this?” She taps the side of her head. “That’s currency. Power. Leverage. Depending on who’s holding the knife.”
I lift my head just enough to meet her gaze. “Do you think I’m a target?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, and that alone tells me everything. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. “I think you were the second you tapped into the Veil. Maybe even before.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that sink in. “So what do I do?”
“You survive. You keep your head on straight. And you don’t let pretty boys with pale eyes and deep secrets whisper their way into your confidence.”
I snort. “So specific.”
She smirks. “I’ve got a type. And apparently so do you.”
I toss a crumpled napkin at her. “Not helpful.”
“Actually,” she says, catching it midair, “I’m incredibly helpful. Because now you know what game he’s playing—and who’s sitting on your side of the board.” Tamsin leans back in her chair, clearly proud of herself. “See? Incredibly helpful.”
I roll my eyes, still smiling faintly, when the door to the dining hall swings open. I don’t need to look to know who just entered. I feel him.
It’s not magic exactly—not in the traditional sense—but it’s the bond. The tether humming under my skin, low and persistent, like a tuning fork struck in the back of my ribs. The Veil letting me know that Raiden Tsukino just walked into theroom. It’s always there, but when he’s in the same room, it’s stronger.
I glance up, more reflex than decision.
And there he is.
He walks in like the air bends to him, shoulders square, expression unreadable, but there’s tension in the line of his jaw. Like he’s already bracing for something.
He doesn’t look at me right away. But I can feel the flicker of awareness as his eyes sweep the space and hesitate before reaching me. He knows I’m here. Of course he does.
But he doesn’t come over. Instead, he walks in with someone else.
She’s tall, older—maybe a fourth year—with silver-blonde hair and an easy kind of elegance. Her Bloodborn status is obvious in the way she carries herself, all casual superiority and perfect posture. She’s dressed in combat blacks, the same style Raiden wears as a second skin. The kind of match that feels intentional.
