His hazel eyes, flecked with traces of gold, widened. “Excited?” He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Why would I be?” The scent of iron and smoke seemed to linger around him, mingling with the faint tang of sweat.
“Oh, I just thought you’d be relieved to go. You know, finally be free.” She knew Symond had always hated it here. He made his opinions very wellknown.
He laughed, the sound harsh, almost like a bark. “Free?” he repeated. “You can’t actually believe we’ll ever be free. Out there, it’s just another kind of prison.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.Always so dramatic.“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be excited to get away from all this?” She gestured to the surrounding courtyard.
“You don’t get it, do you?”Not really.“Everyone thinks leaving will fix everything. Make the pain stop. Give us purpose…” He paused for a moment, his gaze distant, as if he were reliving a memory. “…If we aren’t owned by Thorn, then we are owned by MAHO, the Empire. We’re just… commodities, Elora. Sold off to the government like cattle.”
Elora couldn’t stop herself from eyeing the scars that marred his arms. One ran jaggedly across his bicep, while another curved along his forearm and hand. They were old marks, and she wondered what he had done to deserve them.
“What did he do to you?” The question slipped out before she could think better of it. She had asked many times before, and he had always slammed a metaphorical door in her face. She didn’t know what compelled her to ask him again now.
His gaze bore into hers, the intensity of his eyes a stark contrast to the fatigue lining his face. For all his strength and the fire in his veins, Symond was a puzzle. He never talked about the scars, the burns, or the memories that haunted him. And she had stopped trying to figure him out long ago.
“You would know. But you’ve been sheltered by Tehvan your whole life.” His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her as though he could see right to the heart of her insecurities. “You’ll find out, though. The world isn’t going to be kind to you. No one will coddle or treat youspecially out there.” He gestured to the ocean and lands beyond. “Frankly, I don’t think you’re ready to face it.”
His conviction made her flinch and heat rise to her cheeks. She didn’t like the power his words held over her.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” He stood up straighter, uncrossing his arms as he watched the impact of what he said settle on her face. “So, stay. You’re safe here after all.” He tilted his head, his sneer deepening.
She couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her, like he could see her fear, in spite of her best efforts to hide it. But what was worse was that he’d struck her right where he knew it would hurt. Her dependency on Tehvan, the comfort he provided her, the safety he represented in a world she barely knew. He was right. She was terrified.
Elora exhaled a shaky breath as he finally walked away. The pressure in her chest eased, but the doubt he planted still lingered.
“Being a ward may not be as bad as we’re told,” Elora said, softer than the squeak of a mouse.
Arria turned to look at her directly. “A ward?” She placed her hand on Elora’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to Symond. You’ve worked too hard to give up now.”
Elora met her deep brown eyes, sensing comfort there. “He’s right, though.” She shrugged. She knew the Institute forced the wards to serve only it; they had no freedom. “I’d be able to stay here… with Tehvan.”
Arria frowned. “Is that really what you want?”
She glanced at the ground, biting her lip. She knew the days would bleed together, that all her choices would no longer be hers to make. But she would still have Tehvan.
“It’s just… He’s always protected me, you know? He’s kept me safe. That wouldn’t change.”
Arria began to speak, but the sharp clang of the bell cut her off. There was no more time for reassurance. Elora and Arria fell into place among the alchemists. Around her, the other students shifted into their divisions. The scholars clutched their books tight; the enchanters checked they had all their tools, and the few engineers stood like statues, readying themselves for what was to come.
A door across the yard swung open, and the faculty emerged in a slow procession. Elora searched each face until she finally found her guardian, Tehvan. She needed the steady anchor his presence provided her.
The lines in his face presented a calm man. He held his quiet, confident demeanor close, never slipping up no matter how mad she made him. And there were certainly a few months in her early teens that she purposefully pushed his buttons.
He spun an ordinary gold ring on his finger. To others, it meant nothing, but to her, it was an invisible tether that connected them. It was bound with an enchantment that went against the Institute’s strict rules. It allowed him to feel her heartbeat, like a second pulse under his skin. He insisted it was to protect her, keep her safe from danger. And it did. Tehvan had come to her rescue so many times it made the others wonder how he always knew she needed help.
But the bond went deeper than just her heartbeat. Over the years, he had learned to differentiate the rhythms. He knew when her heart fluttered from excitement or pounded from fear. She convinced herself it offered security, but at times, it undeniably seemed like a cage. He was able to use it to shelter her from certain things, even from herself. A passing crush, absolutely not. An adventure throughthe woods, not without supervision. It often made her feel like he was… overbearing.
But not today. Today she was grateful for the ring that tied them. Her own heartbeat was a comfort, knowing Tehvan could feel it too.Everything will be okay. He always makes sure of it.
The grand ornate doors leading to the headmaster’s wing groaned open. Master Thorn, the revered leader of the Institute, entered the courtyard with an air of self-importance that turned heads and hushed murmurs into awed silence.
Thorn was a man of precision, his appearance as carefully maintained as his reputation. Not a single strand of silver-threaded hair was out of place, combed back with meticulous care. He trimmed his beard to exact symmetry, the edges sharp, each side a perfect reflection of the other. His uniform, deep midnight with gold trim, bore not a wrinkle or speck of lint. He probably thought it made him look like royalty. It didn’t.
He approached the podium in front of them. His gray eyes scanned every face, scrutinizing, making everyone shrink and avert their gazes. Everyone except for her. Her icy blue eyes met his, holding his stare, challenging his authority. She never missed the way his eyelids crinkled with irritation. He hated she didn’t cower like the others.
She didn’t know why he let her test his power like this. And she didn’t know why she stood up to the challenge. Perhaps just to see how far she could push him. But he did nothing. Why? He clearly wanted to break her like everyone else. She could see it in the way he scowled but remained quiet around her. Typically, he would crush someone’s spirit with a single word or glance. He demanded submission from his subjects, and yet she was out of his grasp.
“Welcome, students.” He held his arms out. “Today marks the culmination of your years at the Institute.”
