Astrid
Moonshade barely looked like the academy I knew.
Enchanted lanterns floated overhead without any chains or wires holding them in place, some shifting colors whenever a student passed beneath them. Ribbons of soft light drifted through the air like they had somewhere to be. Music spilled from an enchanted stage at the center of the courtyard, and food stalls lined every path, students crowding around games and glowing attractions on every side. Somewhere near the fountain, someone had set an entire flock of paper birds loose into the air, drifting and folding in slow, impossible patterns above the crowd.
I stopped just inside the gates, genuinely stunned. "They do all this every year?"
Ivy laughed at my expression. "You sound like you’ve never seen a carnival."
"I haven’t," I admitted. "Not like this."
For the first time since learning the King was coming, I let myself get distracted.
Ivy dragged me from one attraction to the next before I could think too hard about it. At the ring toss, the targets moved on their own, drifting just out of reach every time I threw.
"You’re terrible at this," Ivy said, laughing.
"The rings are cheating."
"They’re enchanted."
"Exactly. Cheating."
At the next stall, I actually won something small, a little glowing charm shaped like a moon, and the tiny victory sent a rush of genuine happiness through me. For several whole minutes, I realized, I hadn’t thought about the King at all.
That surprised me more than it should have.
We ran into Xander not long after, carrying a ridiculous stuffed carnival creature he’d apparently won somewhere along the way.
"You’re welcome," he announced.
I blinked. "For what?"
"For improving the carnival experience by being here."
"You really are impossible," I said, rolling my eyes.
But underneath the teasing, he must have noticed my hands were cold, because he disappeared for a minute and came back holding a warm drink, handing it over without any fanfare at all.
"Here."
"What’s this?"
"Something warm."
"I can see that."
"Then why are you asking?"
I laughed, and something about the moment felt different from his usual teasing. He hadn’t made a single joke about caring for me. He’d simply noticed, and done something about it.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"You’re welcome," he said, softer than I expected.
Reed found us shortly after, having finished part of his royal preparations. He noticed the small pile of things I was carrying, the charm, a paper bag of festival sweets Ivy had insisted on, and without asking, took half of it out of my arms.
"I can carry those," I protested.
"I know."
"Then why are you taking them?"
"Because you’re carrying too much."
I stared at him. Xander grinned. "He’s been doing that since we were children."
Reed ignored him completely, and I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my mouth despite myself.
For a stretch of time, the four of us moved through the carnival together, eating, joking, watching a magical illusion performance that had the whole crowd gasping and applauding whenever the light shifted into some new shape. Xander tried to scare me during one particularly dramatic sequence and got shoved hard for his trouble.
"You’re horrible," I said.
"You smiled."
"That doesn’t mean I enjoyed it."
Reed watched the whole exchange quietly, and I caught him smiling too. It felt strangely, dangerously normal, like I actually belonged somewhere for once.
Ivy suddenly grabbed my arm. "We’re going."
"Where?"
"Palm reader."
"Absolutely not."
She pulled me anyway. "It’s a carnival. You’re supposed to do ridiculous things."
Xander laughed. "She’s scared of a fortune-teller?"
"I’m scared of being told something stupid," I said.
"Then don’t believe it," Reed said simply.
That, somehow, was enough to convince me. I followed Ivy inside.
The fortune-teller sat surrounded by candles, crystals, and cards, strange glowing symbols carved into the small table between us. She motioned for me to sit. Ivy watched, practically bouncing with excitement.
The woman took my hand, casual at first, tracing the lines across my palm. Then her expression shifted. Her fingers stilled.
"Interesting," she murmured.
"What?" I asked.
She didn’t answer right away, tracing one particular line slowly. "There are two paths."
Ivy leaned in. "What kind of paths?"
The woman looked directly at me. "Two bonds."
My heart skipped. I thought of Reed and Xander without meaning to, and pulled my hand back slightly.
"Two shadows walking beside you," she continued.
I forced a laugh. "Sounds dramatic."
She didn’t smile back.
She took my hand again, tracing one final line, and this time her expression genuinely unsettled.
"Your blood carries a door," she said.
I went still. "What does that mean?"
She released my hand abruptly. For a brief second, something close to fear crossed her face. Then she smoothed it away.
"Nothing," she said.
"You just said—"
"The reading is finished." She turned immediately toward Ivy, calling for the next customer, refusing to meet my eyes again.
I didn’t move for a moment. It wasn’t the words themselves that unsettled me so much as the way she’d reacted to them.
Ivy, meanwhile, was thrilled. "That was amazing."
"It was weird," I muttered.
But inside, the phrase kept circling. Your blood carries a door.
Before I could think much further on it, a magical announcement rang out across the carnival grounds. The royal presentation was about to begin.
Reed and Xander exchanged a glance.
"We have to go," Reed said, looking at me. "Stay with Ivy."
"Good luck," I said, nodding.
Xander pointed at me. "And don’t let that woman convince you that you’re secretly cursed."
I smiled despite myself. "Go."
They disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ivy and me alone amid the music and laughter and drifting lights.
For one brief moment, I let myself simply enjoy it. The lanterns overhead. Ivy chattering excitedly about the reading. The warm, unfamiliar feeling of an ordinary night at an extraordinary school.
Maybe tonight won’t be so bad, I thought, and I even smiled.
Then the carnival lights flickered.
I glanced toward the royal pavilion out of instinct, and my whole body went rigid.
The crowd shifted, parting slightly around the raised platform, and there he was.
The Lycan King.
He wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t moving toward the stage. He wasn’t looking anywhere near the presentation preparing to start.
He was looking directly at me.
My smile disappeared entirely.
Every bit of warmth I’d felt all evening drained out of me at once, replaced by something cold and absolute, the music and laughter around me suddenly sounding like it belonged to a different night entirely, one I no longer had any part of.