“That’s Noah Vexley. The hottest tech genius. Doesn’t talk much. Quiet, smart, scary when he wants to be,” Rowen finishes off.
I nod.
He’s pale, slight compared to the others. His dark brown hair falling over his glasses while he taps away on a tablet.
I’m unsure if I’m supposed to feel intrigued or warned.
“Want me to walk with you to your first block?” Dakota offers, already collecting her bag.
I blink, surprised. “Sure… yeah. Thanks.”
She flashes a smile—genuine, easy. “Let’s survive your first day, Ashthorne.”
I smile back, nerves still fluttering in my stomach. But suddenly, they feel lighter. Like maybe—just maybe—I’m not doing this alone.
We stand, and the rest of the table calls out good lucks and “you’ll do great” as I follow Dakota into the current of students.
Maybe I will survive this place.
Maybe I’ll even belong.
11 BLACKMOORE FOUR
The classroom smells like old paper and eucalyptus cleaner. The walls are lined with dusty bookshelves, and sunlight cuts through tall windows in golden slats. I slip into a seat near the middle—not too close to the front, but not in the back where it’s easy to disappear.
My fingers brush the sleek school tablet on my desk as I glance around. Students file in, most of them already talking to each other. Some toss their bags down like they’ve been here forever. I keep my spine straight and my mouth shut.
This is fine. I’ll just get through class, take notes, and leave.
A chair scrapes nearby.
I don’t look.
Then a voice—low and smooth—says, “You always sit alone, or is this just a first-day ritual?”
I blink and glance up.
Luca Silvain is leaning on the desk next to mine, his tie still loosened from earlier, dark brown curls falling into his light brown eyes. There’s something too perfect about his smile—white teeth, sharp canines, full mouth, and just enough mischief to make it dangerous. The lip ring catches the lightwhen he grins. He’s smiling like we’ve been flirting for years. Like this is a thing we do.
I freeze. “Are you… talking to me?”
His grin widens. “Depends. Are you Isobel Ashthorne?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then yeah,” he says, dropping into the seat beside me without waiting for permission. “I’m talking to you.”
My brain scrambles. I have no idea what to say. Popular boys don’t talk to me. Especially not the boys everyone else stares at like they’re carved out of legend and unbothered wealth. How does he even know my name? Then I remember Lucian. Of course, people would know his long-lost daughter. He was with Jace, is he in the Guild too?
Lucian’s voice echoes in my head. My hackles rise.
He watches me like he’s waiting for something, his elbow propped on the desk, fingers loosely twirling a pen.
“Luca,” he offers, like we’re friends now. “You’ll want to remember that.”
I blink at him.
“You’ve got a nice poker face,” he says, nodding to me. “Jace owes me twenty.”
