Chapter Fourteen – Bound by Flame & Shadow

Sierra’s POV

She took the long way to the courtyard.

Totally by accident. Obviously.

Not because she knew Malick always cut across the north stairwell around this time. Not because she’d re-brushed her hair in the mirror. Twice. Or that she was now actively pretending not to look for him while 100% looking for him.

Nope. Definitely not that.

Her heart was stupidly loud in her chest as she rounded the corner—and nearly slammed straight into a tall, shadow-marked boy in a black uniform shirt that fit far too well.

“Shit—sorry,” she blurted, stumbling.

Malick caught her elbow, steadying her. “You alright?”

Sierra blinked up at him. His dark curls were damp, like he’d just come from sparring. Shadows traced the underside of his jaw like ink. And he smelled like—ugh, unfair—warm spice and rain.

“I’m fine,” she said, instantly regretting how breathy her voice sounded.

He didn’t let go of her arm right away.

“You sure? Not making a habit of bumping into me or anything?” His voice dropped, teasing.

She glared. “Im not. I was just... walking.”

“Right. Totally natural walk. Definitely not looking for me.”

Sierra shoved his arm. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “You’ve mentioned.”

They stood there a moment too long. Close. The air between them charged like a held breath.

Then the academy bell rang.

Saved by the bell—and cursed by it.

“Combat class,” Malick said, finally releasing her. “You partnering with someone?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“Good.” His eyes flicked over her, not lingering, but definitely looking. “You’re with me.”

And just like that,

She had no idea how to breathe again.

Malick’s POV

He’d waited near the stairwell longer than necessary. He told himself it was just coincidence. That he just happened to lean against the wall looking effortlessly casual.

But truthfully? He’d hoped she’d come this way. His morning had been shit—Elara cornering him near the east tower, murmuring poison into his ear while pressing against him like heatstroke.

He hadn’t pushed her away fast enough. And Sierra had seen. He hadn’t slept all night.

Not because of nightmares but because he kept replaying the look on her face as she turned away.

But now she was here—alive and radiant and trying very, very hard to look like she hadn’t just walked into him on purpose.

He couldn’t help the grin. “You sure you’re okay?”

She looked up at him with those stormy eyes, trying to be annoyed. Gods, she was terrible at pretending not to care. It made him want to pull her closer and ruin every boundary between them.

Instead, he played it safe.

Kind of.

“You’re with me,” he told her.

She didn’t argue.

That was dangerous. That was everything.

Sierra’s POV

They were halfway through the warm-up drills when she felt them watching her.

The Crows.

Elara, Gloria, and Patricia stood in a cluster near the sparring rings, all smug smiles and deadly eyeliner. They weren’t paired off like the other students. They didn’t have to be. The teachers had long stopped trying to make them follow the rules.

Elara locked eyes with her as if she’d been the one wronged.

Sierra returned the stare, refusing to flinch.

“Elara’s in venom mode,” Malick muttered beside her, watching with narrowed eyes. “She always is,” Sierra said, and forced herself to stretch like nothing was wrong—even though her skin crawled like it was trying to peel away from her bones.

As if on cue, Gloria stepped forward, her voice loud enough to carry. “Aww, look. The orphan and the prince. Aren’t they cute together?”

Chuckles rippled through the nearby students.

Patricia chimed in, eyes heavy-lidded and bored. “Didn’t realize we were watching a romance drama. Should’ve brought snacks.”

Sierra’s jaw clenched. Malick straightened beside her like a storm brewing. But Elara raised a hand—delicate, like she was conducting an orchestra—and smiled. “Sierra’s just playing house. That’s what freaks do when they’re scared of being alone.”

The words didn’t hit her like knives. They hit like ice. And behind them—buried so deep only Sierra could hear—came a hiss of shadow, curling around her spine and whispering things in her mother’s voice.

Instead, Sierra stepped forward, slow and deliberate, her voice calm but sharp enough to draw blood. “I guess it takes one freak to recognize another.”

Gloria’s smile faltered.

And just like that—ding ding—the teacher blew the whistle.

“Partners to the rings! Pairs only. No groups.”

The Crows glared as they slunk to the sidelines.

And Malick? He didn’t say a word. But as he stepped into the ring beside her, she noticed the shadows twisting just a little darker along his arms.

Malick’s POV

Later, after the class ended and the teachers barked for cooldown laps, Malick caught Sierra’s eye.

No words.

Just a nod.

She nodded back.

They slipped away from the others while no one was watching—though he could feel Elara’s eyes on the back of his skull like heat from a dying star. He didn’t care.

They slipped into the shadowed edge of the dueling hall, through a broken side door that led into the old north corridor—a disused wing full of dust, cobwebs, and leftover spells no one bothered to clean up.

And silence.

For once, silence.

Sierra pressed her back to the wall, breathing hard—not from the run.

“You okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes had that faraway look again. The one that told him the world inside her head was louder than anything outside. “They want me gone,” she said finally.

“They should be scared of you.”

She laughed bitterly. “They are. That’s the problem.”

He took a step closer.

“I’m not.”

She looked up at him then—and there it was. The truth of her, raw and bright and breakable. And for one second, he thought about leaning in.

Just one heartbeat of reckless, stupid hope.

But Sierra turned her head.

“We should get back...” she whispered.