LOGINThe dining hall is already packed by the time I arrive. Conversations bouncing off of the stone walls. Students move between tables carrying trays piled high with food. I hesitate near the entrance. For one stupid second, I consider turning around. Then Rowan spots me.“Oh, look.” His voice carries far too well. “The prisoner bathed.” Several heads turn. I immediately regret existing.“Rowan,” Lyra warns. “What?” He gestures toward me with his fork. “I’m complimenting her.” I make my way toward the table. As I sit, Rowan continues staring. “Seriously though.” Rowan says. I sigh. “What now?”“You have cheekbones.” I blink.Seyla bursts out laughing. Even Lyra snorts into her drink. I grab a piece of bread. “Say one more thing.”“You’ve also got eyes.” I throw the bread. Unfortunately, he catches it.“Violent.” he scoffs.“You deserve worse.” Across the table, Luca is trying, and failing, not to smile. His gaze briefly lifts to mine. For a second, he simply looks. Then a small smile tu
Though I wake up at the ass crack of dawn, I feel strangely well rested. As the morning sun begins to rise, golden rays spill across my room. I'd much rather roll over and go back to sleep, but now that I'm awake my brain won't shut off. Why was Callan so gentle last night? Why was Luca angry? How did I manage to aquire four freaking friends? Why am I not dead yet? If I'm such a burden being the traitors daughter, why hasn't anyone just... killed me? Fuck this. I cannot allow myself to sit here and spiral into a dark hole of self pity. I sit up and swing my legs over the bed in one swoop. I pad over to my wardrobe and grab my running gear that I was so graciously gifted to me from this shit ass school. A black sports bra with matching black leggings. Simple, yet effective. Given there are no classes today, I assume the training grounds will be empty. Everyone either sleeping off a hangover, or sleeping in a bed that doesn't belong to them. It's not a secret that students at Aeth
Apparently the Gods are cruel enough to give me one monster and then send me directly into the arms of another.His dark brows pull together. “Maeve?”I step back, but way too fast. My shoulder hits the wall. There is no one else in the hallway. No Seyla. No Luca. No Lyra. No one. Just Callan Ravaryn.The son of the man who murdered my parents. The son of the reason my life ended five years ago. My breath comes faster now and my visions darkens. He takes one careful step forward. I flinch. He stops immediately.“Maeve,” he says, softer this time. “What happened?”I laugh. Or maybe I choke. I can’t tell.“Stay away from me.”His eyes flick to my wrist. I clutch it harder. Something dark crosses his face.“What did he do?”The question punches through the panic for half a second. Because he knows. Or at least he suspects. And I hate that. I hate that his voice sounds angry. I hate that his eyes
"Enter."The voice on the other side of the door is smooth and calm. Almost kind. Which exactly why I hate it.I push the door open and step inside, schooling my features into something blank and empty. The office is larger than I expected, with tall windows that overlook the academy grounds. Shelves upons shelves of books lining the walls. Everything about this space screams wealth and power.The man behind the desk stands as I enter. Dean Withers.He is older, but not frail. Not even close. His jet black hair combed neatly away from his face, his uniform pressed to perfection, and a golden crest of Aetherion Academy pinned over his heart. A loyal servant of Elarion. A loyal servant of Aeron- the man responsible for throwing me into Skyless Keep."Miss Thalorien," he says warmly, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."I don't. His smile does not falter, but something sharp flickers behind his eyes."Or stand, if you prefer.""I prefer."He studies me for a moment befo
I drag my feet as the three of us make our way to our class- Bonding 101. Which I supposed it could be a worse class to attend, but that doesn't mean I'm excited. As we walk, Luca and Seyla flank either side of me. It feels like it's been a lifetime since I've had anyone that’s actually given a shit about me. Since my parents and sister were alive. I shove those thoughts back down before I begin to muster 5 years worth of pain I've managed to shove in the deepest darkest parts of my being. When we get to the classroom, I head towards the back of the classroom expecting the twins to take a seat in the front. They don't. They take a seat on either side of me in the back row. Weirdly, having them close is actually comforting as the anxiety begins to grow in my belly. Meeting with the dean today has my stomach in all sorts of knots. But I do needs answers as to why I was thrown into this Gods-forsaken school. As I rummage through my bag, an overly tall blonde man takes the seat on th
The first thing I notice is the sunlight. It's pouring through the narrow window beside my bed, golden and obnoxiously bright.The second thing I notice is that my neck hurts. My head hurts. My face throbs. Everything hurts. The third thing I notice is that there is a boy asleep in the chair beside my bed. I freeze. For one horrifying second, I just stare.His head is tilted back against the wall, dark hair falling into his eyes. One arm hangs off the side of the chair while the other is folded across his stomach.He looks so peaceful while sleeping. Like he can finally relax without a million thoughts taking over. While he holds his goofy demeanor, you can clearly tell the thoughts never stop. I know he holds pain. I can see it every time I look into his eyes. The type of pain he would never admit.My brain takes a full moment to catch up. Then the memories return. Talking. Arguing. Talking some more. Luca flirting and teasing. The stupid stories he'd insisted on telling me. The wa
I wake before the sun. For a second, I don't remember where I am. Then I do. And I wish I didn't. The ceiling above me isn't stone. No cracks. No damp. No flickering torchlight. Just smooth, unfamiliar quiet. My body is already tense, already awake, already waiting for something to go wrong. Old
The movement stops. That's what wakes me. Not a voice. Not a hand. The absence of motion. For a second, I don't open my eyes. Five years teaches you that waking up slowly is safer than waking up fast. I listen to the muted voices outside. The low, restless rumble of the ironclads. And something e
The doors open. Not with a scream like the cell. Not with resistance. Just a heavy, final shift of iron that echoes deeper than anything else I've heard in five years. Then blinding light. I stop. It hits all at once. Too bright. Too open. Too much. I raise a hand, squinting against it, but I don'
The iron door screams as it opens. I've heard that sound every morning for five years. Metal dragging against stone. Rust grinding against rust. The sound of another day I didn't ask for.Usually, the guard shoves stale bread through the bars and keeps walking. Today, he unlocks them. I hold my bre







