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Up close, the buildings look like the magic that binds them also slows down time so that nothing ever decays. Every window gleams, and every step on the path is so perfectly aligned you’d think the students have to pass a spatial reasoning exam just to be allowed to walk it. Waiting just past the arch is the principal—I think—flanked by two assistants who are slender, silver-eyed, and so polished you’d slide right off if you tried to touch them. The principal herself is tall, regal, and radiating an aura that creeps me out. Her dress is cut from some fabric so pale it’s almost not there, and her raven hair is flowing to her waist in loose waves.

Oh, I know this kind of woman, and if I didn’t want to poke my eyes out before, I definitely would now.

“Prince Revelin,” she purrs, striding up with a hand extended. “What a delight to welcome you to Silvergate. I am Headmistress Eira, and it’s an honor to showcase our academy for you and your company.”

Her handshake with him is perfectly calibrated to make him suppress a shudder. I get a two-second glance, a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes, and a sense that she’s already decided exactly how many seconds of her life I’m worth. The other guys get nothing, and for once, I’m okay with that. I don’t like her energy, and I absolutely do not want them anywhere near her. It’s bad enough that my poor prince has to be.

She turns on her heel and launches into the tour without missing a beat. “As you may know, our institution has produced the greatest minds and most powerful mages in Ravenhold for nearly a century. Our curriculum focuses not just on magical excellence, but also on political acumen, artistic achievement, and—” she says, pausing long enough to indicate the pristine quad “—a deep respect for tradition and social harmony.”

The mayor tries to keep pace, but the headmistress is too fast and too good at sucking all the attention in the room. Within five paces, she’s the center of gravity, and everyone else is just an orbiting moon. We glide through the quad, the socialite mothers craning their necks to see if their offspring are waiting to be plucked up and introduced. They whisper into their phones as we pass by a garish statue, probably updating group chats in real time about us or texting their kids to hightail it to the lawn.

Vomit. I mean, I get being in awe of a celebrity or excited to meet someone you admire, but this tour has been frightening in terms of how parasocial fans can be.

Headmistress Eira pauses by a path lined with hedges sculpted into mythical creatures—griffins, unicorns, a weirdly familiar-looking basilisk—and says, “Our horticulture program is recognized throughout the four Courts. We don’t just grow plants; we cultivate magical potential from the root up. Each section is cared for by a student group, and the results are, as you can see, spectacular.”

“It’s a garden, lady,” Tier mutters, and I have to choke back a laugh. “They’re everywhere in this fucking realm.”

Luckily, Eira doesn’t hear us, and we follow her as she continues moving. The headmistress leads us through an arch where the air smells faintly of citrus and something more elusive—like the sweet tang you get right after a thunderstorm. I realize they’ve charmed the gardens to pump out subtle mood enhancers, which is why I feel my shoulders untensing, despite myself.

“Illegal as shit,” Dezi grunts to Tier, Khol, and me. “Grasp your cuffs or collar, murmur my name, and hold until you feel the vessels holding my blood vibrate. It should help ward off the effects until we’re out of range.”

Competency is sexy, and why the hell is everything making me horny all of a sudden?

Frowning, I do as he says, but I also pay attention to my general internal state more carefully. I’m not sure what’s going on with me, but I’m gonna figure it out before it becomes an issue I can’t control.

“Every student here,” Eira says, “takes part in a daily ritual to attune their magical essence with the environment. It strengthens not only their magic, but also their character. It is not something just anyone can complete.” She says this as if she expects someone in our group to fail the ritual on the spot, and I’m not surprised when her eyes flick to me for just a second, then away.

Khol stands at my left shoulder, his expression dark. He’s noticed the micro-slights, but all I feel are little ripples of amusement under his surface. My basilisk is totally at home in the enemy’s parlor and daring them to try to take a bite. He’s just waiting for the right moment to show his fangs.

On my right, Tiernan is scanning the perimeter every two seconds, his eyes flicking to every window, every statue, and every shadow. He’s not buying the magical harmony bit; no, he expects a hidden threat, and honestly, he’s probably spot on. There’s something not quite right about this Stepford ass Fae academy, and I can’t put my finger on it.

We enter the dining hall next, and I blink, surprised even though I shouldn’t be. It’s like a silvery Versailles on steroids—there are white stone pillars, ceilings painted with scenes of magical conquest, and long rows of tables set with silver. There’s a blackboard by the kitchen door with a calligraphy menu that touts moon-harvested grain porridge, restorative root broth, and roasted river fish with enchanted seed crust as today’s lunch.

These kids eat better than half the fucking Fae who live in the court, I bet.

Our guide points out a table where a dozen students in identical uniforms are sitting with perfect posture and perfect smiles. One girl is already raising her phone, no doubt live-streaming the Prince’s walk through her lunch break. “Our student body is always eager to receive distinguished guests,” Eira says, her voice smooth as single-malt whiskey.

Dezi is trailing a half-step behind me now, eyes focused more on the students than the decor. He leans in just enough to whisper, “You know the first thing they teach here isn’t magic, right?”

“What, how to look bored and superior?” I murmur. “That’s what the rich assholes at home seemed to learn pretty early.”

He smiles, just a flicker as he shakes his head. “Worse. How to make anyone who doesn’t belong want to run for the hills.”

A ripple of anxiety rolls down my spine, but I push it away. What happened to Fer and me isn’t groundbreaking—bullying people you feel superior to is something that happens all over in every realm, and at every level of society. It just rankles my innate sense of justice and always has. But I know I can’t take it out on kids, regardless of whether they’re old enough to know better. That would make me no better than those who lorded their shit over me in Briarvale, and I refuse to ever become that asshole.

Even if this tour is really pushing my buttons in ways I didn’t plan for and giving me ways to act out I never dreamed of.

Forty-Five

REVELIN

The next part of the tour features the glass spine at the back of Silvergate. It boasts a corridor so bright it feels like a greenhouse built to cultivate and harness the next crop of power. The walls run floor to ceiling in transparent sheets, with no hint of privacy, just one tall aquarium where the academy’s fancy betta fish swim in their native, competitive brine.

I should thank my lucky stars I was sent to the military academy version of this in Daybreak, rather than the cushy rich kid one.

We’re on the far side of the glass, but the kids inside don’t even glance up—because they’ve been forbidden, or because they’re bred to perform under observation. I recognize the social predator’s comfort in a cage, provided the cage is large and gilded enough, and muffle a sigh. There are probably plenty of very smug and happy kids in there, but I know from experience that the unhappy ones are the worst off despite their financial support. It’s difficult to be different from your family and peers at an age where the pressure to conform is immense. I can only hope those poor teens can rise out of it as I did, but the odds aren’t great.

Eira sweeps an arm ahead of us with a smile that’s perfectly calibrated for every camera and parent in tow. “Here in the studios, our students have access to the finest instructors and materials in Faerie,” she says. “We believe that self-expression is as vital as discipline. The arts aren’t just for the talented, but for all.”