“What are you doing?” He’s quieter now. “Really. Because it’s not just about Guild training. Not just about legacy. You’ve got something to prove.”
“Don’t we all?”
“No.” He says it like a truth carved in stone. “The rest of us are born into this. We don’t have to prove anything. You do.”
I cross my arms. “And that terrifies you, doesn’t it?”
That smile — razor-thin, not quite reaching his eyes — falters. “It annoys me,” he says. “There’s a difference.”
“Well, you’re going to be real annoyed when I keep rising.” I step past him, brushing him intentionally, and add over my shoulder, “Better get used to it, Ravencourt. I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t have to look back to know he’s still standing there.
The lecture drones on.My hand is cramping from notes, and my eyelids feel like they weigh five pounds each.
I can feel them before I even look. Tex drops into the seat beside me withall the subtlety of a wrecking ball, and Noah slides into the one on my other side.
Business as usual now, apparently. No one speaks right away.
I keep writing.
Noah leans in just slightly, his voice pitched low so it won’t carry. “So… you’re still here.”
“Disappointed?” I mutter without looking up.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Honestly? A little impressed.”
I arch a brow at him. Noah Vexley is casually leaning back, stylus twirling between his fingers, the corner of his mouth quirking like he knows exactly how annoying he can be.
“How was it? Committing your first crime?” Noah asks.
“Who said it was my first?”
Tex sits there, broad arms crossed, staring straight ahead like the words on the screen have pissed in his Cheerios. “Jace is furious.”
“Pretty sure his face is stuck like that.” I continue writing.
That makes Noah chuckle. “I think he’s trying to decide if he wants to kill you or kiss you.”
I shoot him a look. “Let him try either. I’m good at ruining things.”
Tex exhales through his nose. Not a laugh — more like reluctant approval.
“Why is glycolysis conserved across nearly all life forms?” the instructor asks.
My hand twitches like I should raise it, but I don’t.
The instructor calls on someone else.
Noah nudges my elbow.
“Next time,” he murmurs. “You’ve already got their attention.”
I don’t answer.
“Tex loves being right,” Noah says with a grin, tilting his head toward the quiet brute beside me.
I eye Tex. His eyes stay locked on the screen, jaw tight.
