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"You didn't think to mention that?"

His eyebrow rises. "You didn't." Damn him. Fair.

"What do you feel?" I ask.

Rhyven glances toward the students passing around us. "Not here." He starts walking again. I follow.

"That's not an answer."

"Later."

"You're avoiding me."

"No."

"You are."

"Eirea."

The use of my name shuts me up. Not because he commands it. Because something in the bond—No. Whatever this is shifts. A faint pressure. Concern. Not mine. His. I know it with absolute certainty. My steps falter. He notices. His expression changes. He felt my reaction too. Oh. Gods. Neither of us says anything else.

At dinner I barely eat. Rhyven isn't there. Chief meeting. Nyra talks. Cassian argues about dates. Caelen joins us halfway through and steals food from my plate despite having his own. Normal. Everything normal. Except somewhere across the Academy I can feel a faint thread of irritation that doesn't belong to me. Rhyven. Not words. Not thoughts. Just a feeling. Distant. Soft. There. I stare down at my plate. Caelen notices. "What?"

"Nothing." He gives me a suspicious look. Apparently everyone is tired of that answer.

Later that night the sensation changes. Not irritation. Calm. Then wind. Very faint. I sit upright in bed. My roommates are asleep. Moonlight spills across the floor. Wind. Height. The sensation is distant enough to be almost imagined. But I know. Rhyven is flying. With Vyrael. I lie back slowly. Stare at the ceiling. This is ridiculous. Impossible. Terrifying. And for reasons I refuse to examine also comforting. Somewhere above Varethia Rhyven exists. Vyrael exists. The wards are holding. The Academy is safe. For tonight. I close my eyes. The faint sensation of wind remains.

I wake before the bell. Not because I slept well. Because the wind stops. My eyes open immediately. For a second, I don't understand why. The room is still dark. My roommates are asleep. The Academy beyond the window is quiet. Nothing is wrong. Then I realize. The faint sensation that followed me into sleep is gone. No height. No wind. No distant calm. Nothing. My heart beats faster anyway. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I close my eyes again. Three breaths later warmth settles faintly beneath my ribs. Not strong. Barely there. Enough. My body relaxes before my mind catches up. I stare at the ceiling. Absolutely not. I refuse to become someone who checks whether Chief Corvell is alive before breakfast.

By the time I reach the dining hall, Nyra has already occupied half the table. Books. Parchment. A map. Two muffins. One cup of tea. And a look on her face that means she's been awake far too long. Cassian sits across from her with his forehead pressed against the table. "Good morning." I say.

He lifts one hand weakly. "Debatable."

Nyra doesn't look up. "Sit."

I blink. "Hello to you too."

"Sit." I sit.

Mostly because resisting Nyra before she's had enough tea seems unwise. She slides a page toward me. Dates. Locations. Agricultural failures. Memory disturbances. Animal migration changes. Ward fluctuations. Everything from yesterday. Except now there are more. A lot more. "Where did you get these?"

"Public archives."

"You went back?"

"I never really left."

Cassian groans into the table. "She woke me at five."

Nyra points toward the first column. "Look."

I do. 417. Then another date. Four days later. Another. Six days after that. Another. The progression continues. North. West. South. Across Varethia. Then outside it. Not random. Not simultaneous. Moving. "How many?"

"Twenty-six confirmed anomalies."

Cassian lifts his head. "Thirty-one if we include probable."

Nyra gives him a look. "We are not including probable yet."