"Someone poisoned her."
Soren scooped Nyra into his arms and ran. Through the grand hall, through the corridors, her blood soaking into his shirt. Finn, Marek, Jasper, and Corvin sprinted behind him. Ragnar cleared the path, shoving students aside.
They reached the healer’s wing. Soren laid Nyra on the cot with surprising gentleness.
Master Aldric, the old healer, took one look at her. "Everyone out. Now."
No one moved.
"I said out!"
One by one, they retreated. Corvin lingered, jaw tight, then stepped back. Soren didn’t move.
"Thornridge. That includes you."
"No. I’m staying. I won’t leave her."
"Her?" The healer’s eyebrows rose, but Nyra convulsed on the cot, and he had no time to dwell on it. "Fine. Stand against the wall. Don’t touch anything. Don’t speak."
Soren pressed himself into the corner and watched as Aldric worked checking her pulse, lifting her eyelids, pressing fingers to her swollen lymph nodes. His expression grew darker by the second.
Outside in the corridor, the tension was reaching a breaking point.
Corvin paced like a caged animal, his hands opening and closing at his sides. His eyes kept darting to the closed door, then away, then back again. Finn sat on the floor with his head in his hands. Marek stood like a stone sentinel. Jasper stared at nothing.
Then the door opened and Soren stepped out.
"Well?" Corvin demanded. "What’s happening? Is he going to be—"
"She’s stable for now. The healer is still working."
"She?" Corvin’s eyes narrowed. "You just said—"
"I said he. You misheard."
"No. No, I didn’t. You said—"
"I said he." Soren’s voice was flat, absolute, leaving no room for argument. "If you heard something else, that’s your problem."
Corvin stepped closer, his jaw tight, his eyes beginning to bleed gold. "You’ve been acting strange about Thorne since the moment he arrived. What are you hiding, Thornridge? What do you know that the rest of us don’t?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Of course you don’t." Corvin’s laugh was sharp and humorless. "You never know what anyone’s talking about. You just stand there with your cold eyes and your unearned superiority and expect the world to bow at your feet. Why are you even still here? The healer told everyone to leave. Must everything revolve around your world?"
Soren said nothing.
"Answer me!" Corvin’s voice cracked. He shoved Soren’s chest with both hands. "I’m talking to you, you dumb-headed bastard! Answer me for once in your life!"
Soren didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His silence was a wall.
Corvin swung.
His fist connected with Soren’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. Ragnar lunged forward with a snarl, but Soren’s hand shot out and caught him by the chest.
"Don’t," Soren said quietly.
"But he—"
"I said don’t."
Soren turned back to Corvin. His eyes had shifted gold bleeding through the black, his wolf rising to the surface. Corvin’s eyes had gone gold as well, two predators circling in too small a space.
Soren stepped forward. Once. Twice. Until he was close enough that Corvin had to tilt his chin up to maintain eye contact.
"You won’t try that again," Soren said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in your entire life. If you know what’s good for you."
Corvin laughed. It was a dangerous sound. "And what will you do, Thornridge? What possibly could you—"
"Enough!"
The voice cracked through the corridor like a whip. Proctor Vesper Kane strode toward them, flanked by four senior lecturers, his face carved from thunder. Valeria was among them, her expression unreadable.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Proctor demanded. "Two of my best students, brawling in the corridor like common thugs, while a prince lies poisoned in the next room?"
Neither Soren nor Corvin answered.
The Proctor’s jaw tightened. "We will discuss this later. For now—" He turned and pushed through the door into the healer’s chamber.
Master Aldric looked up from his work, his hands stained with blood. "Poisoned. Synthetic, designed to attack the wolf’s healing abilities first. I’ve never seen anything like it."
"Can you heal him?"
"No. The poison is too aggressive. It’s spreading to his major organs. He has less than twelve hours without the antidote."
"What is it?"
"Silverthorn Leaf. It grows only in the Forbidden Forest, deep in the eastern marshes. Without it, the prince will die."
The Proctor was silent. Then he turned. "We convene an urgent board meeting. No one speaks of this outside these walls."
The council chamber was a circular room lined with ancient tapestries. The senior lecturers sat in a semicircle.
"This incident must not leave this academy," the Proctor began. "If word reaches the king that his son was poisoned under our watch, the consequences will be catastrophic."
"Someone must have brought the poison in," one lecturer said. "We should investigate immediately."
"Agreed. But our priority is the antidote."
Valeria spoke. "The Silverthorn Leaf grows only in the Forbidden Forest. That’s a death sentence for anyone sent to retrieve it."
"We have trained guards. We’ll dispatch a unit tonight."
"How many know the eastern marshes? The terrain is treacherous."
After nearly an hour, the decision was made. Elite guards would depart at dawn. Students would be sworn to silence. The prince would be monitored around the clock.
The meeting adjourned. Soren was waiting in the corridor. He pushed past the lecturers and entered the chamber.
"I’m going with the guards."
"I have to go. I’m responsible for Thorne. I’m his trainer."
"You’re also the son of Duke Thornridge and the most valuable student this academy has produced in a decade. The last thing I need is to explain to your father why I let his heir walk into the Forbidden Forest." The Proctor’s voice was final. "The answer is no, Thornridge. That’s an order."
Soren stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded once and walked out.
In the corridor outside the healer’s wing, Finn sat against the wall, eyes red. Marek stood beside him, jaw clenched. Jasper had his face buried in his hands. Finn’s shoulders shook with sobs.
"For the love of—" Corvin spun on them, eyes blazing. "You call yourselves men and you sit here crying like weaklings? Shut up before I shut you up myself!"
Finn’s sobs caught in his throat. Marek stiffened. Jasper lifted his head.
"Thorne is fighting for his life, and you’re out here wailing like children. If you can’t be useful, be silent. Understand?"
Silence. Absolute.
"That’s better." Corvin turned away, pacing again.
Ragnar found Soren in his suite, standing at the window.
"Want to tell me what that was about? You nearly tore Eldritch’s head off. Over a first-year."
"It was nothing."
"That wasn’t nothing. I’ve known you for four years. I’ve never seen you lose your temper." Ragnar crossed his arms. "What’s going on with you and the prince?"
"He’s my student. My responsibility. That’s all."
Ragnar studied him, scarred face unreadable. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find it. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But get it under control. You’re the Sword Sovereign. You don’t have the luxury of losing your head over anyone."
"I’m tired, Ragnar. I need to bathe."
Ragnar left. Soren stripped off his blood-stained shirt, turned the water as hot as it would go, and stepped under the spray.
Inside his skull, his wolf was pacing.
"Kael," Soren growled. "What the hell was that? You made me want to tear Corvin apart. Over her. Over a woman I barely know."
You know her better than you think.
"I know she’s a female pretending to be male. That’s it. First you call her my mate the first time you’ve ever used that word. Then you make me do insane things every time I’m near her. You make me want to kiss her, touch her, claim her. What is happening to me?"
Have you finished your rant?
"Answer the question."
Love. You’re feeling love for her. Despite the disguise. Despite the lies. Despite everything.
Soren laughed harshly. "Impossible. She’s a weakling. She can barely throw a punch. She cries by lakes and flinches at shadows. Why would I fall for someone like that?"
You tell me.
"I have a fiancée back home. Selene. Remember her? The woman I’m supposed to marry?"
The heart doesn’t care about logic. The wolf doesn’t care about politics.
"Then the wolf can find someone else. Pick another mate. End this. I don’t want it."
No.
"No?"
If it’s not her, it’s no one else. I’ve made my choice. You can fight it all you want, but you’re only fighting yourself.
Soren slammed his fist against the tile. A crack spiderwebbed across the surface. "Then I’ll fight myself. I’ll fight until there’s nothing left. I am not falling in love with a woman who’s been lying to me since the day we met."
His wolf retreated into silence.
Soren turned off the water and stood in the steam, dripping, chest heaving.
Somewhere in the healer’s wing, Nyra was dying.
And despite all his denials, despite all his resistance, Soren knew with absolute certainty that he would burn the world to save her.