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Korvel was there. With her.

And Caelyn?

Caelyn wrote letters from half a continent away like a lovesick fool while pretending distance would not be a barrier when it came to her heart.

A harsh voice cut through the corridor.

“What in the dead stars and burning hells did you do now?”

Sister Agatha appeared from the stairwell, looking furious. Her gaze moved from the destroyed conduit…

…to the frost spreading across the stone.

…to Caelyn.

Agatha went very still. The old woman sighed in a heavy breath.

“You are making my life exhausting lately. More than usual, mind you!”

Caelyn dragged a hand through his dark hair. “I lost control,” he admitted.

“I gathered that from the exploding wall,” she seethed.

He said nothing.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed before she noticed the letter clutched in his hand. Understanding dawned on her features.

“What did she write?”

Caelyn blinked once, dragging his attention away from the frost creeping across the stone floor and back toward Agatha. “What?”

“The letter.” Agatha pointed irritably toward the crumpled parchment still clenched in his fist. “You detonated a resonance conduit after reading it, so unless Elowynn has suddenly declared war on the south, I assume this involves a man.”

Silence.

Agatha stared at him. Then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh for the love of the gods, Caelyn.”

Caelyn had the good sense to look away from her and toward the storm beyond the corridor.

“She accepted an invitation to the Frostfall Gala,” he finally said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Agatha just scoffed. “That is hardly a catastrophe! She is a noble and of high esteem in that Spire, now! You can’t exp-”

“With Korvel Thorne,” he interrupted.

Agatha blinked. Then blinked again. Then nodded a few times. “Ah.”

That was it. That was all she said. Caelyn would have preferred a lecture.

The elder Sister folded her arms inside her robes. “Well. That is inconvenient timing.”

“Inconvenient?” Caelyn laughed once without humor. “Is that seriously your assessment?”

“You exploded architecture, boy. My standards for catastrophe are currently elevated.”

He closed his eyes and rolled his neck, willing away the anger crawling beneath his skin. The worst part of all this was not even the jealousy.

It was the implication that he was losing her.