The laboratory smelled of crushed nightshade and something older metallic and sweet, like blood left too long in moonlight. Nyra sat on the wooden stool Corvin had assigned her, grinding silver petals into dust.
"Finer," Corvin said without looking up. "If the granules are too large, the lunar properties won’t bind properly."
Nyra ground harder. Her arms still ached from the morning’s combat training with Soren. He hadn’t mentioned the full moon. Neither had she.
"Like this?"
"Acceptable. Now add three drops of distilled moonlight the vial on your left, not your right. The right one will burn through your skin."
"Good to know."
"Knowledge is survival. I would think you’d learned that by now."
Nyra added the drops. The mixture hissed, flared silver, and settled into a smooth, luminescent paste. Corvin nodded once his version of high praise.
"Moon balm. It accelerates healing in non-shifters. Useful for someone who can’t rely on their wolf to close wounds."
The words hung in the air. He was circling closer to the truth with every lesson.
"Why are you really teaching me?" Nyra asked. "And don’t say scientific curiosity."
Corvin set down his pestle. "Why do you think?"
"I think you want something from me. Proof of whatever theory you’re building about my bloodline."
"That’s part of it."
"And the other part?"
He looked at her, his whiskey-dark eyes unreadable. "The other part is that Soren isn’t the only one who can keep you alive. You matter, Prince Thorne. Not just to the academy. Not just to your kingdom. You matter to forces you don’t understand yet. And I intend to make sure you survive long enough to understand them."
The laboratory door swung open.
"Am I interrupting?"
Killian stood in the doorway, a tray of clean vials balanced on one hip. His expression was pleasant and unassuming. He looked like someone who belonged.
"You are," Corvin said flatly. "What do you want?"
"Master Aldric sent these. Said you requested extra moonflower vials." Killian set the tray down with careful precision. His eyes flicked to Nyra. "Prince Thorne. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Killian. I’ve been assisting in the potions stores."
Nyra remembered him. The cafeteria. The spilled food. The mock apology. "I remember you."
"The lunch incident." Killian had the grace to look abashed. "I was hoping you’d forgotten that. I’m not proud of how I behaved. Consider this my attempt at making amends. If you ever need help with potions or anything else I’m at your service."
Corvin watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. "You’ve delivered the vials. You can go."
"Of course." Killian bowed his head slightly and retreated. He paused on the threshold. "Prince Thorne? I’m glad you survived the poisoning. The academy would be less interesting without you."
The door clicked shut.
"Interesting," Corvin murmured.
"What?"
"He’s never been that polite to anyone." Corvin shook his head and returned to his work. "Ignore him. Focus on the lesson."
But Nyra couldn’t shake the feeling that Killian’s eyes had lingered a moment too long.
The full moon was three days away, and the academy could feel it.
The corridors hummed with restless energy. Students snapped at each other over nothing. Fights broke out in the cafeteria over the last seat at a table. The wolves were stirring beneath the skin.
Nyra felt it most in Soren.
He was different during their training sessions harsher, his corrections sharper than they needed to be. When she failed a block, he just made her do it again. And again. And again, until her arms trembled and her breath came in ragged gasps.
"You’re distracted," she said, lowering her fists.
"I’m not."
"You are. You’ve been somewhere else all session."
Soren’s jaw tightened. "I’m your trainer, not your friend. We’re not here to discuss my state of mind."
"We’re not here to break me down either. But that’s what you’ve been doing since I came back from the healer’s wing. You’re harder on me now than you were before I nearly died."
"Perhaps you need it."
"Perhaps you’re trying to push me away."
The words landed like stones in still water. Soren went very still.
"Careful, little prince."
"Or what? You’ll make me do more push-ups? You’ll call me weak and walk away like you did by the lake?" Nyra stepped closer, her heart hammering but her voice steady. "Something’s different. You’ve been different. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice."
For a long moment, Soren said nothing. His dark eyes burned into hers, and she could see the war happening behind them the push and pull of something he refused to name.
"The full moon is coming," he said finally. "I’m not myself."
"Is anyone ever themselves during the full moon?"
"No." He turned away. "Training is over. We’ll resume tomorrow."
"Soren—"
"Tomorrow."
He walked out without looking back.
Valeria found Soren in the senior common room an hour later.
He was sitting alone in the dark, a glass of something amber untouched on the table beside him. The torches had burned low, and the shadows carved his face into something severe.
"You’ve been avoiding me," she said, settling onto the arm of his chair. She was dressed in deep green, her hair loose, her lips painted the color of wine. "Don’t bother denying it. I’ve been counting the days."
"I’ve been busy."
"Busy training your little prince." The words dripped with disdain. "Everyone’s talking about it. The Sword Sovereign, risking his life in the Forbidden Forest for a first-year who can barely throw a punch. It’s very romantic." She traced a finger along his shoulder. "If one didn’t know better, one might think you’d developed feelings."
Soren didn’t react. "Valeria."
"Soren." She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "The full moon is in three days. You’ll need someone. You always do." Her hand slid down his chest. "Let me be there for you. The way I’ve always been."
He caught her wrist before it could travel lower. "I don’t know if I’ll need anyone this time."
Valeria pulled back. Her expression flickered hurt, then anger, then something colder. "What does that mean?"
"It means I don’t know what I’ll need."
"Is it the prince?" Her voice sharpened. "Everyone saw how you acted when he was poisoned. Everyone saw you carry him to the healer’s wing. What has that boy done to you?"
"Thorne has done nothing."
"Then what is it? What’s changed?"
Soren stood abruptly. "I’m going to bed. We can talk about this another time."
"No." Valeria stepped in front of him. "I’ve been patient, Soren. I’ve waited while you figured out whatever this is. But I won’t be discarded for a scrawny prince who can’t even shift. I’ve given you years of my life, my devotion. I deserve an answer."
"You deserve someone who can love you back." His voice was quiet. "I’m not that person. I never was."
The words hit her like a physical blow. She staggered back a step, her composure cracking. "Get out of my way, Valeria."
She didn’t move. He walked around her and left. The door clicked shut behind him, and Valeria stood alone in the darkness, her hands trembling.
"You’re wrong," she whispered to the empty room. "You do love me. You just don’t know it yet. And I’ll prove it to you. Whatever that prince has done to you I’ll undo it."
She smoothed her dress, lifted her chin, and walked out.