“You could be fired. Memory-wiped. Your career here would be over.”
“I said I’m aware.” His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the skin.
“Why would you risk that for me?” The question bursts out before I can stop it. “I’m just a first-year. A bookish Thorne who can barely hold a blade. You’ve made it clear over the past two months that you think I’m… how did you put it? A spoiled brat who would die the second my magic failed?”
His heat spikes. It’s not the sharp, focused flare I’ve catalogued during combat drills, and not the full-body surge from the Fury Loop. This is warm, concentrated in his chest and climbing his neck. It’s the same pattern I first caught when he placed the crossguard dagger in my hand and saidlearn how the fire moves through itwhile his fingers lingered a beat longer than necessary.
He stands up, walks to the weapon rack, and runs his fingers over a blade handle.
When he finally speaks, his voice is all steel.
“I’ve watched too many witches die because no one taught them how to survive when things went wrong.”
The dead witches from the vampire attack.
Everyone knows that six years ago, Kieran and a group of witches were ambushed by vampires with magic-dampening artifacts. The others died helpless, unable to access their fire. Kieran was the only one who survived, because he trained with steel instead of relying on magic.
No one knows the details. No one dares to ask. All we know is that he started teaching at Blaze Academy soon afterward, to ensure the students here won’t meet the same fate as the witches he couldn’t save.
When he turns to look at me, his expression is as hard as the weapons he wields.
“You climbed to the forbidden peak of a volcano in the middle of the night because you needed answers.” His grip shifts on the blade handle. “Your stubbornness will either get you killed or make you dangerous. I’d prefer the latter.”
The weight of his words settles into my bones. Because I’m studious. Meticulous. Thorough. I’m the kind of student who color-codes her notes and sneaks into her father’s study to read restricted texts for fun.
Butdangerous?
That’s not a word anyone associates with Evie Thorne.
“I’m going to be one of the only people in the world who knows what the Crown really does,” I say slowly, testing the shape of this new reality.
Kieran nods, watching me carefully.
“My magic is permanently stronger now.” I hold up my hand, feeling the heat sensing ability humming through my veins like a second heartbeat. “I can sense details I’ve never been ableto before. And they’re not just clearer. I can sense them from farther away, too.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that I want to use my amplified ability to find Oliver. The faculty can investigate all they want, but they don’t have a sister’s connection to his thermal signature. They don’t have…” I gesture vaguely at myself. “Whatever I am now.”
He studies me with the same assessing look he gives students before deciding whether to double their training.
“That’s a dangerous path to walk,” he finally says.
“I’m aware.”
“You could get caught. Memory-wiped. Worse.”
“I said I’m aware.” I meet his eyes, holding his gaze. “But he’s my brother. I can’t sit in the library and pretend everything’s normal while his heat signature is burned into the Crown like a…”
Like a grave marker.
I can’t make it real by putting it into words.
So, I swallow down the fear in my throat. “You know this island. You know I’m more powerful than I was before. Will you help me?”
He turns back to the weapon rack, draws a blade, and tests its edge against his thumb.
He’s going to say no. He’s already risked enough by telling me about the Crown. Asking for more is?—
