The morning light through the healer’s window was pale and weak, but it was still light, and Nyra had learned to be grateful for small mercies.
Three days had passed since she’d woken. Three days of broth and bed rest. Three days of Soren’s silent presence in the chair beside her cot gone now, finally, after the Proctor’s summons had forced him back to his duties. Three days of feeling the silver light pulse beneath her skin like a second heartbeat, growing stronger each time she reached for it.
The door opened. Corvin walked in.
He looked different today less polished, shadows beneath his eyes. But his gaze was as sharp as ever, and it fixed on her with an intensity that made her straighten against the pillows.
"Prince Thorne." He pulled the chair Soren’s chair closer to her bed and sat down. "You look well enough for conversation."
"Good morning to you too, Eldritch."
"I’m not one for pleasantries." He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "I have a proposition for you."
Nyra’s guard went up immediately. "What kind of proposition?"
"You’ve been trained by Thornridge in combat. His methods are effective, if brutal. But combat isn’t the only thing that will keep you alive here." Corvin’s fingers steepled. "You know nothing about potions. Nothing about poisons or their antidotes. Nothing about the lunar properties certain plants carry. If that poison in your last match had been slightly faster, you would be dead right now, and no amount of punch practice would have saved you."
"I’m aware."
"Then let me teach you. I’m the best potions student in this academy. I can teach you how to identify toxins before they reach your bloodstream. Which antidotes to carry. Which lunar phases amplify which brews."
Nyra studied him. "And in return?"
"In return, you answer my questions. Honestly."
"What questions?"
Corvin smiled. It was not a warm smile. "The ones you’ve been avoiding since the day we met. What are you, Prince Thorne? What flows through your blood that makes it pale as moonlight? Why does your presence affect the two most powerful Alphas in this academy in ways neither of us can explain?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"You do. And I’m not asking you to tell me now." He stood, smoothing his tunic. "Think about my offer. Potions training begins tomorrow evening in my laboratory. Come if you’re interested. Don’t come if you’d rather remain ignorant of the things that could kill you."
He walked to the door, then paused. "One more thing. Thornridge isn’t the only one who can protect you. Whatever he’s done for you whatever he is to you remember that I went into that forest too. I nearly died too. And I didn’t do it for responsibility."
The door closed behind him.
"Absolutely not."
Finn sat cross-legged on Marek’s bunk, an apple in one hand and deep suspicion on his face. "Corvin wants to give you private lessons? The same Corvin who’s been staring at you like you’re a puzzle he wants to dissect since the first week?"
"The very same," Nyra said.
She had been released from the healer’s wing that afternoon and was now propped up in her own bunk. The Undercroft dorm felt smaller than she remembered, or maybe she had changed. The silver light hummed under her skin, making everything feel sharper, brighter.
"It’s a terrible idea," Finn continued. "He’s creepy. He’s calculating. He probably wants to harvest your organs."
"He’s not going to harvest my organs."
"You don’t know that. Marek, tell her."
Marek looked up from the knife he was sharpening. "Could be useful. Knowing potions."
"Thank you, Marek."
"But Eldritch is dangerous. Watch yourself."
"Jasper?" Finn turned to the fourth bunk. "Any thoughts? Preferably ones that support my position?"
Jasper didn’t look up from his book. "Corvin doesn’t do anything without a reason. If he’s offering to train her, he wants something. The question is whether what he wants is harmful or just... possessive."
"Possessive?" Nyra repeated.
"He watches you the same way Thornridge watches you. Like you belong to him and he’s just waiting for you to realize it." Jasper turned a page. "Two Alphas fixated on one person is a recipe for disaster. Proceed with caution."
Finn threw his hands up. "Exactly! Caution! Thank you, Jasper. Listen to the smart one."
"I’m going," Nyra said quietly. "I need to understand what I am. What’s happening to me. Corvin knows things about Moonblood about the old magic that no one else does. If I’m going to survive whatever comes next, I need that knowledge."
The room went quiet.
"What do you mean, ’what’s happening to you’?" Finn asked slowly.
Nyra looked at her hands. The silver light pulsed faintly, visible if you knew where to look. "Something changed when I was poisoned. Something I don’t understand yet. But Corvin might."
Her friends exchanged glances.
"Fine," Finn said reluctantly. "But we’re walking you to his laboratory. And we’re waiting outside. And if he tries anything—"
"Finn."
"I mean it. Anything weird, and we break down the door."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice made Nyra’s chest ache. She smiled at him a real smile, the first in days. "Thank you."
The training ground was empty when Soren arrived.
He’d been dismissed from the Proctor’s meeting an hour ago a grueling interrogation about the Forbidden Forest, the Silverthorn Leaf, the creature in the marsh. He’d answered every question with the same flat, unapologetic tone. Yes, he had disobeyed orders. Yes, he had gone alone. No, he did not regret it. The Proctor had threatened suspension. Soren had stared at him until the threat withered.
Now he needed to hit something.
He stripped off his shirt and began the familiar rhythm of his drills. His muscles burned. His shoulder wound throbbed beneath its bandage. He ignored it.
You’re thinking about her again, Kael murmured.
"I’m thinking about nothing."
You’re a terrible liar. She woke up asking for you. Your name was the first thing she said.
"That doesn’t mean anything."
It means everything, and you know it.
Soren’s fist slammed into the training dummy hard enough to crack the wood. He stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his spine.
"She asked why I went into the forest. I told her it was responsibility."
Was it?
"I don’t know anymore."
Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it.
Soren closed his eyes. Behind his lids, he saw silver hair and defiant eyes and the way she’d looked at him when she said you came.
She’s your mate. The bond is forming whether you want it or not. The full moon is coming. When it arrives, you’ll have to face what you feel.
"Then I’ll face it."
Will you? Or will you run to Valeria like you always do?
Soren had no answer. He resumed his drills. The training dummy splintered further. And somewhere in the back of his mind, his wolf laughed softly, knowing the truth his human half refused to speak.
The storage room on the east wing was dark and cold, but Killian didn’t mind.
Draven had him pressed against the stone wall, hands fisted in his shirt, mouth hot and demanding on his throat. Killian let his head fall back as he moaned.
"Missed you," Draven muttered against his skin. "Haven’t seen you in days."
"I’ve been busy." Killian’s voice was flat, but Draven was too far gone to notice.
"Too busy for me?" Draven pulled back, and there was something vulnerable in his expression something almost like genuine feeling. "I did what you asked. The sparring match. The poison. I could have been caught."
"And you weren’t." Killian cupped Draven’s jaw. His touch was gentle. His eyes were not. "You did well. You’ve been very useful to me."
"Useful." Draven’s brow furrowed. "Is that all I am?"
Killian didn’t answer. He pulled Draven’s mouth back to his own and kissed him hard enough to end the conversation. Draven groaned, his doubts forgotten.
This was the part Killian tolerated. The physical release. The distraction. Draven was handsome enough, strong enough, eager enough. But when Killian closed his eyes, it wasn’t Draven he saw.
It was Corvin.
Corvin, who never looked at him. Corvin, whose attention was fixed entirely on Thorne Astrlyn. Corvin, who had risked his life in the Forbidden Forest for a prince who didn’t deserve it.
"You’ll do something else for me," Killian said, his voice barely a whisper. "Soon. Something important."
"Anything." Draven looked up at him, eyes dark with want. "I’ll do anything for you."
Killian smiled. It was a cold, beautiful thing. "I know you will."
He pushed Draven to his knees and tried to forget the face he wished was there instead.
That evening, Nyra made her decision.
She dressed carefully her binding tight, her voice low, her posture the confident slouch of the prince she was supposed to be. Finn walked her to the senior wing, Marek and Jasper flanking like guards.
"You don’t have to do this," Finn said for the fifth time.
"I do."
"Then we’ll be right here. If he tries anything—"
"You’ll break down the door. I know." Nyra smiled at him. "I’ll be fine."
She pushed open the laboratory door and stepped inside.
Corvin was waiting. Vials and beakers and copper instruments covered every surface. The air smelled of herbs and something metallic. He looked up when she entered, and his smile was knowing.
"I knew you’d come."
"I need answers."
"And I need to understand what you are." He gestured to the stool across from him. "Sit. Let’s begin."
Nyra sat. The door closed.
And in the corridor outside, her friends waited, watching the shadows for anything that moved.