I followSienna and her band of unusual companions as they avoid the throng of students heading to Hardwicke’s morning lecture and cut a path to the first-year dorms. A few students break off from the collective and drag their feet to the spiral stairwell leading to the headmaster’s office, undoubtedly dropping out after last night’s performance.
Rumors of Professor Aesir’s unorthodox training session circulated the castle until they were confirmed true this morning. The third-year professor has always had a reputation for being unyielding when it comes to results, and it seems that he holds first-years to the same standards as their seniors. They’ll either rise to the occasion...or drop dead on his doorstep.
I spare them a moment’s attention while the halls empty. Headmaster Loreander should have never admitted such weak-minded individuals to Heartsflame in the first place. If anyone is to blame for the academy’s decreased retention rate, it’s the dragon running the show, not its masses. You can’t turn pathetic lumps of coal into sparkling diamonds no matter how much magic you soak into their bones. The best any of them will do is mate with the other rejects on their way back to their hometerritories. At least then, they stand a chance of surviving the journey across the wilds.
According to my father, the rot has increased its foothold in the valleys, making travel in the lowlands more dangerous than it’s ever been. Our pack is protected within our mountain range, but we’re also cut off from trade routes if we can’t traverse the paths winding down into the valleys and across the Silverlight Meadows. There’s only so long we can hold out until nature heals itself.
Slowly but surely, we’re running out of time...
But we’re not the only ones whose clocks are winding down.
Sienna’s bedroom doorclickssoftly shut once everyone has shuffled inside, Callum and Thorn being the last to enter on account of needing an invitation. I quickly enter my neighboring room to eavesdrop. Aside from the balcony, the fireplace holds the easiest listening spot. I crouch among the ashes and close my eyes to listen to whatever speech my mate has prepared.
There’s only one emotion I recognize thrumming along the threads connecting our souls:
Fear.
Andthatis what breeds poor life decisions.
Holding my breath, I catch snippets of conversation but nothing concrete. My frustration grows until I remember the Sensing Stones Viserys gifted me before his death, lost somewhere in my luggage. Leaping across the room, I tear through my belongings until one of the two magical stones appear. A palm-sized river rock with a set of runes etched across its surface, each one holding a meaning I’ve yet to decipher. It’s ancient magic, if Viserys’s claims are to be believed, but I’m pretty sure he asked one of our mother’s aides to purchase them from the witches’ mercantile cart during the one summer they made the trek up our mountainside.
Either way—thank you, brother.
The stone remains cool to the touch as I hold it in my palm. Harnessing its power, I enhance my hearing so that I can sit comfortably on my bed and still listen in on Sienna’s heated conversation next door.
“It is best if you keep your distance,” Callum says plainly. “We don’t know the consequences of your proximity.”
“Fuck you,” Revyn snaps, clearly agitated. “You’re just repeating what Hardwicke said because you want Sienna for yourself.”
“I’m concerned for her safety, which is more than I can say for you.”
Sienna’s low growl sends a wave of heat down my spine. I ignore it.
“Revyn isn’t dangerous. Not to me.”
“It’s the rot that’s dangerous,” another female interjects. I tilt my head until her tone becomes clearer. “We don’t know how it operates or why it’s even spreading to begin with.”
Ah, the green witch.
“Survival,” yet another man interjects. The second-year vampire who follows his sister around like a shadow. “It’s doing the same thing we are. Adapting to its environment. Except, it’s actually winning.”
For fuck’s sake, how many people did Sienna invite into her bedroom?
I picture everyone dog-piled on the bed, their limbs intertwined as they bicker, and a frown tugs at my lips. Any of them could make a move on my mate while the others pin her down. It’s easy to overpower someone with increased numbers. They could hurt her or...fuckher.
Tossing my head back, I groan. Something about having a true mate dials up my insanity one notch too high. None of them are going to hurt Sienna, and even fewer of them are interestedin having sex with her. Well,halfof them are interested in having sex with her.
Probably.
Maybe?
I strain to catch heartbeats through the wall and count one two three...four, including the erratic, fluttery one furthest away from the group.
Just how many people are in there?
The Sensing Stone tingles in my palm, and my sense of smell suddenly heightens. Sienna’s delectable aroma of the sweetest drop of honey and the freshest blooming flowers mixes inextricably with something earthen and damp, mingling in a way that’s decidedly intimate. Then there’s Revyn’s spice—cinnamon and clove with a dash of citrus—that makes my nose crinkle as I try not to sneeze. Gemma smells like a rose that’s been plucked too soon, and her foster brother barely registers beyond a hint of grave dirt. The new scent—some kind of cloying spearmint—damn near drowns out the rest once it festers.
Seriously, who thefuckis that?
