EVIE
I’ve been watchingJade get ready for fifteen minutes, and she’s checked her reflection exactly zero times. This might not sound alarming, except Jade Harrington’s never met a mirror she didn’t at least glance at. It’s not in a vain way—it’s more like she’s constantly making sure she exists, and that the world around her is real.
Right now, she’s staring at her combat boots like they hold the secrets of the universe.
“Jade?” I pull my hair into its usual messy bun and secure it with two pencils, because I forgot where I put my clips. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” She blinks, finally looking up. “Yeah. Fine. Just tired.”
The obvious lie sits between us like a third roommate.
“Did you see Oliver at the end of last night?” I ask. “After the Unity Flame went out?”
Pain flickers across her face before she locks it down.
Maybe she was more into my brother than I realized.
“No,” she says, and there’s that flat voice again. “He was probably with his friends. Or maybe with Avery.”
I close my eyes, trying to piece together the night chronologically for what must be the hundredth time this morning. Oliver was dancing with Jade. They went to the buffet. She went to the bathroom. Then the storm hit, resulting in chaos, everyone running for cover, and the Unity Flame dying.
I can’t place Oliver anywhere after the storm’s first lightning strike. He wasn’t helping the evacuation. He wasn’t checking on Avery. He wasn’t finding me to make sure I was safe, which is Brother Protocol 101.
That’s four gaps in the data, all from the same thirty-minute window.
Jade and I walk to the dining hall in relative silence. The entire academy is subdued this morning, everyone moving in clusters and speaking in hushed voices. I catch fragments of conversation as we pass, each one adding to the tightness in my throat.
When we finally enter, my heat sensing ability unfurls across the room like a net, mapping every signature at every table.
First-year table: Nina with the notebook she’s always writing in. Her thermal signature burns low and steady, controlled as always. Felix is stealing bacon from Garrett’s plate. Sam is annotating a textbook.
Normal.
Second-year table: Deidre’s at the innermost part of the spoke, laughing as if she’s performing for an audience.
Third-year table: Callie and Alessandra with their heads together. Callie’s signature is oddly cool for someone sitting next to the fire. Deacon’s looking anxious. Beside him, Tyler’s half-turned in his chair, flirting with the girl on his right, his elbow hooked over the backrest like he owns the room.
No Oliver.
No Avery.
I swallow down a lump in my throat, and the chandeliers flicker once.
“Evie!” Felix waves me and Jade over to our usual spot. “Did you hear about Avery?”
“No.” I move to our table automatically, unable to stop staring at Oliver’s empty chair. “What happened?”
“She collapsed near the end of the ball.” Felix leans forward, lowering his voice. “Some of the fourth-years found her passed out near the Revelation Flame.”
My mind immediately starts cataloging possibilities.
Magical exhaustion from the storm’s interference? Alcohol poisoning? Emberlink disruption? If Oliver was hurt, the bond could have destabilized her. The Revelation Flame can be destabilizing if someone’s suppressing strong emotions.
Lauren reaches past Felix for a pastry. “Everyone’s saying she drank too much. She had a glass in her hand all night.”
Jade’s hand goes to her bracelet and twists it around—a nervous habit I’ve been cataloguing since the first day we met. “She was upset about Oliver going to the dance with me,” she says simply, which is far from a surprise to anyone.
“She’s been in love with him for three years.” Lauren shrugs with zero sympathy. “That’s not exactly breaking news.”
