She took it becauseI didn’t trust her first.
My shadows coil tighter, responding to the spike of emotion I refuse to indulge in. Fear is dangerous for someone like me. It bleeds outward. It turns into action before intention can catch up.
I leave the room at a near jog, boots striking stone as I head down the corridor. The academy feels too open, too exposed, like every ward is suddenly insufficient. None of them can keep her safe now.
I reach for my magic, searching for Nolan or Raiden’s signature energy that I’ve only been able to feel since we are all connected to Lindsay.
Nolan is closest, so I head that direction. Then a pulse of magic ripples through the academy, a shift in the air.
My shadows snap tight around me, reacting before I do, and my heart drops into my stomach. That wasn’t a minor occurrence in the wards, that was the Veil answering a call.
“Lindsay,” I breathe.
And then I break into a run.
FORTY-SEVEN
LINDSAY
“Hey, are you okay?”
I lift my eyes to Auron’s in the mirror. He stands behind me, concern written plain across his face. Gods, I must look like hell if he’s dropped theI’m better than youact.
“No,” I say honestly. “I’m ready to go home.”
His brow creases, confusion flickering there. “Home?”
The word hasn’t even finished echoing before the object in my pocket pulses.
Once. Then again.
The air ripples, subtle but unmistakable, like the room itself heard me and is considering the request. My breath catches, not from fear exactly—more from the sudden, awful realization that I might have just said something important.
I shift my weight, pressing my hand discreetly against my pocket.
I’m not even sure whathomemeans anymore.
Is it that crappy town I couldn’t wait to escape? The one with too-small rooms and too-loud silences? Or is it something else entirely—some place I’ve never seen but somehowknow?
My gran used to say home is where your heart is.
If that’s true, I’m pretty screwed.
Because my heart is here. In this place I suddenly don’t trust. Wrapped up in people who keep deciding thingsforme. In a demon prince who made me feel chosen and safe and wanted—and then kept secrets he thought I wasn’t ready to hear.
Auron’s gaze sharpens, flicking to my reflection, then down—just briefly—to where my hand rests over my pocket.
“What was that?” he asks quietly.
I swallow. “Nothing.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. But Auron doesn’t call me on it. Instead, he steps closer—just enough that I can feel his heat without feeling crowded. He keeps his voice low and calm. “Whatever that magic was…” he says, “it was calling to you.”
My fingers curl reflexively.
“That happens sometimes with magic,” he continues, as if this is a normal conversation. “Magic recognizes what belongs to it. But you don’t have to answer it if you are afraid.”
Belongs. That’s what I want, to belong.
