First class

The walk to the first class was an exercise in power. We weren't just students moving through a hallway; we were a parade of apex predators. The King and Alpha Linus led the way, their presence so overwhelming that other students—including several Alphas from the lower towers—literally backed into the walls to clear a path.

As we neared the hall for Shifter Legacies, Marcus leaned over toward Pamela, a competitive glint in his eyes.

"Hey, Beta," he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "That spar in the arena was too short. I want a real fight. No holds barred. I want to see how I’d actually fare against you when the sand isn't flying in my face."

Alpha Linus let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl. The sound echoed off the stone walls like a localized earthquake.

"Don't waste your time, boy," Linus rumbled, not even looking back at the Prince. "She’d pummel you into the dirt before you could even finish a shift. Pamela was holding back against Sol in that arena; if she lets loose on you, I’ll be the one explaining to your father why his Commander is in a body cast."

Marcus’s jaw dropped, his gaze snapping to Pamela, who simply offered him a sharp, lethal wink.

Linus then turned his heavy gaze toward me. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the high, stiff collar of my training gear. "And you, Silver. Why are you still hiding those lines? You’re in a den of dragons and under my watch. Why cover the Goddess's mark?"

The air in the hallway suddenly felt heavy enough to crack the floorboards. At the mention of the Goddess's mark, the silence was absolute.

I felt three distinct, piercing gazes lock onto me. Sol, Marcus, and the King all turned their heads in unison. There were no questions—the weight of their royal breeding kept their tongues silent—but their eyes were predatory. They stared at the fabric of my collar as if they could burn through the silk with their vision alone. Sol’s nostrils flared, catching the faint, ozone-sweet scent of the power humming beneath my skin.

I didn't answer. I just felt a surge of annoyance pricking at my skin. My past was a minefield, and I wasn't ready to let the entire world see the violet glow of my second chance—not yet. I pushed past them all and stepped into the classroom.

The lecture hall was filled with the scents of sweat and ink. At the front stood Instructor Vance, looking remarkably smug despite the King’s earlier rebuke. He clearly thought that within the four walls of his classroom, his academic authority would reign supreme.

The King and Linus took seats at the very back, their presence turning the room into a pressure cooker.

Vance cleared his throat, his eyes landing on Pamela and me with a flicker of old malice. "Since our 'record-breaking' transfers have joined us, let’s see if their brains match their scores. We are discussing the High Alpha Bloodlines—the ones lost during the Great Purge."

He pointed a long, thin rod at me. "Student Silver. Name the three primary virtues of the Lost Wolf King’s lineage and the specific geological marking of their ancestral territory."

I didn't even look up from my tablet. "The virtues are Sovereignty, Sacrifice, and Silence. Their territory was the Silver-Vein Ridge, marked by the presence of violet-tinted quartz—a geological mirror to their internal power."

Vance blinked, his face reddening. He turned to Pamela. "And the Beta’s role in the High Court? What was the specific ritual of the Blood-Oath?"

Pamela answered without a second’s hesitation. " It required the Beta to share the Alpha’s first kill and bind their life-force to the pack’s protection. It’s a level of loyalty your current textbooks haven't touched in fifty years."

Vance’s face moved from red to a deep, bruised purple. Every time he threw a question—obscure dates, ancient dialects, lineage maps—we caught them and threw them back with clinical precision.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, looking increasingly annoyed by Vance’s petty attempts at a power play. "For the love of the ancestors, Vance, give it a rest. They clearly know more about my family's history than you do."

Sol, however, was a different story. He sat beside me, his chair pulled just an inch too close. He wasn't annoyed; he was mesmerized. He watched the way my jaw set when I answered, the way my eyes flashed with hidden knowledge. He looked like a man watching a masterpiece come to life, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

"Careful, Vance," Sol whispered loud enough for the first three rows to hear. "If you keep testing them, you might find yourself out of a job by lunch."

The bell rang, and Vance practically fled the room. But as I stood to leave, I felt the intensity of Sol's gaze linger on my neck. The secret was out of the bag, even if the collar was still on.