Chapter 18
I woke to white.
White ceiling, white walls, white sheets. The sterile smell of the infirmary mixed with something herbal and medicinal. My entire body ached in ways I'd never experienced—not the familiar ache of my condition, but the specific, burning pain of overexertion and heat damage.
"Easy." A healer's face appeared above me—older woman, kind eyes. "Don't try to sit up yet. You've been unconscious for six hours."
Six hours. The Ember Veil felt like it had happened simultaneously a lifetime ago and five minutes ago.
"Did I...?" My voice came out as a rasp.
"Pass? Yes. Barely. You crossed the finish line and immediately collapsed. We had to treat you for severe dehydration, heat exhaustion, second-degree burns on your arm and hand, and a badly sprained ankle." She helped me take a sip of water. "You're lucky you didn't cause permanent damage."
"Worth it," I croaked.
She shook her head, but there was grudging respect in her expression. "You're clear to leave once you can walk. Take these." She handed me several vials. "Pain management, burn treatment, anti-inflammatory for the ankle. And rest. Complete rest for at least two days."
I nodded and immediately regretted it as the room spun.
"I mean it, Miss Vale. No training, no stairs if you can avoid them, minimal physical activity. Your body needs to recover." She helped me sit up slowly. "Your roommate has been checking on you every hour. I'll send word that you're awake."
She left, and I took stock of my injuries. My right arm was wrapped in clean bandages—the burns from going through that final flame. My left ankle was similarly wrapped and elevated. Various smaller burns and scrapes covered my exposed skin.
But I'd finished. I'd survived both trials.
The door opened and Brooke rushed in, her face lighting up with relief.
"You're awake! I've been so worried—they wouldn't tell me anything except that you'd made it and were being treated.
" She sat on the edge of the bed carefully.
"Serenya, you crawled through fire. Actually crawled through fire.
People are talking about it. Calling you insane and brave in equal measure. "
"How did you do?"
"Finished in two hours and twelve minutes. No major injuries, just exhaustion and minor burns. Nothing compared to—" She gestured at my bandages. "This. What were you thinking, going through that flame?"
"That it was between me and the finish line, and I was tired of stopping." I managed a weak smile. "Did everyone make it?"
"Forty-seven out of sixty-three passed. Sixteen withdrew or collapsed.
" Her expression turned serious. "Petra made it, barely.
That boy Marcus? He quit halfway through, said it wasn't worth the risk.
A bunch of others too. But you, the sick girl everyone thought would fail first...
" She shook her head in amazement. "You finished. People can't stop talking about it."
"Great. Now I'm the crazy scholarship girl instead of just the weak one."
"Better crazy than quitter." She helped me stand, supporting most of my weight. "Come on. Let's get you back to the room. You need actual rest in an actual bed."
The walk from the infirmary to the dormitory was excruciating, even with Brooke's help and a walking stick the healer had provided. Every step sent pain shooting through my ankle. My burned arm throbbed with each movement.
But I was alive. And I'd passed.
We were crossing the main courtyard—taking the long route to avoid stairs—when I saw them.
Kairen stood near the fountain with a girl I didn't recognize. Second-year, maybe, based on her emblem. Pretty, with dark hair and a confident posture. She was talking animatedly, her hands gesturing as she spoke, standing far too close to him.
I stopped walking.
Kairen's expression was absolutely rigid—not his usual cold control, but something tighter.
Trapped. His shoulders were tense, his hands at his sides but clenched into fists.
The girl kept talking, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort, and I could see him glancing toward the Academy entrance like he was calculating an escape route.
She laughed at something she'd said—he clearly hadn't—and stumbled slightly, her hand shooting out to catch his arm for balance.
Something hot and sharp twisted in my chest.
Kairen's entire body went stiff at the contact. His shadows, which had been restlessly pooling at his feet, surged outward before he forcibly yanked them back. The girl didn't seem to notice, still chattering away, her hand lingering on his arm.
He carefully extracted himself from her grip and took a deliberate step back, putting distance between them. But she followed, still talking, her body language aggressively friendly in a way that made it clear she wasn't picking up on his discomfort—or didn't care.
The hot, sharp feeling intensified.
"Serenya?" Brooke followed my gaze. "Oh. That's Elise Thorne. Headmistress's niece. Basilisk-bonded. She's been chasing Kairen since last year. He avoids her constantly, but she's persistent."
"He looks miserable," I said before I could stop myself.
"Because he is. She corners him like this every few weeks.
Kairen's too rigidly polite to just walk away when someone's talking to him—some weird nobility thing his father drilled into him.
So she exploits it." Brooke's voice held disapproval.
"Caleb's had to rescue him a few times when it gets really bad. "
I watched as Elise said something else, her hand reaching out again. This time Kairen caught her wrist before she could touch him, held it away from his body for a brief moment—not rough, but unmistakably a rejection—before releasing it and taking another step back.
His shadows were writhing now, agitated in a way I'd never seen except when they were reaching for me.
"We should go," I said, but I couldn't look away.
"Yeah, before you burn holes in that girl with your eyes." Brooke tugged my arm gently.
"I'm not—" I started to protest, but stopped.
Because I was. I was staring at them with something hot and unfamiliar churning in my chest. Not at Kairen's obvious discomfort, but at the fact that she was there at all. That she felt entitled to corner him, to touch him, to demand his attention.
Attention that his shadows gave to me but he wouldn't let himself give.
The sharp feeling became unbearable.
"Come on," Brooke said more firmly. "Let's get you inside before you collapse again."
I let her guide me away, but I couldn't stop myself from glancing back.
Kairen's head had turned. He was watching me now, his storm-gray eyes finding me across the courtyard with laser focus. Elise was still talking—I could see her mouth moving—but he wasn't listening anymore. Wasn't even looking at her.
He was staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
His shadows surged toward me before he caught them, forced them back with visible effort. His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump even from this distance.
Our eyes met across the courtyard.
His expression was complicated—relief that I was alive and walking, something that might have been longing buried under ice, and what looked almost like desperation.
Like he wanted to cross the space between us but couldn't let himself move.
Elise noticed his distraction and turned to look at me, her expression souring slightly. She said something else, trying to reclaim his attention.
Kairen ignored her completely, still staring at me.
Then Elise stepped directly into his line of sight, blocking his view, and the spell broke.
I looked away and focused on walking, on breathing, on anything except the inexplicable sensation of loss that came from him looking away.
Back in our room, Brooke helped me settle onto my bed and then stood there with her arms crossed, studying me with those sharp green eyes.
"So," she said. "Want to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"About why seeing some girl corner Kairen made you look like you wanted to commit murder."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Serenya." She sat on the edge of my bed. "I saw your face. That wasn't concern for his obvious discomfort. That was jealousy."
"That's ridiculous. I'm not—" I stopped, because I didn't know how to finish that sentence. "I don't care who talks to Kairen. We're not... anything. He made that very clear."
"But you wanted to be something."
"No. Maybe. I don't know." The words came out frustrated. "He rejected me. Multiple times. Stood me up when I asked him to talk. His shadows reach for me, but he fights them. I decided to stop caring, remember? To focus on myself."
"And you did. You survived both trials. Proved everyone wrong." Brooke's voice was gentle. "But feelings don't just disappear because we decide they should. Especially not feelings for someone whose magic has been reaching for you since the day you arrived."
"It doesn't matter what I feel. He doesn't want me."
"Did you see his face when he spotted you? He looked like he'd been drowning and you were air." Brooke leaned forward. "He wasn't interested in what Elise was saying. He was looking for an escape. But the second he saw you, everything else disappeared."
I thought about that moment—his eyes finding me across the courtyard, the way his entire focus had shifted, the desperate intensity in his expression.
"Even if he does care, what difference does it make? He's too broken to do anything about it. Too terrified to let himself try." I pulled the blanket higher. "And I'm too tired to keep throwing myself at someone who keeps pushing me away."
"Fair." Brooke was quiet for a moment. "But for what it's worth?
Elise has been chasing him for over a year.
He's never shown the slightest interest. Avoids her whenever possible.
The fact that he let her corner him today—and looked that miserable about it—just proves he's still too stuck in his stupid nobility training to be rude. Not that he wanted to be there."
"Why would he look at me like that, then?"
"Because you matter to him. His shadows know it. And I think, buried under all that ice, he knows it too." She stood. "Just think about it. After you've rested and recovered. After you figure out why seeing another girl's hand on his arm made you want to set things on fire."
"I'm not jealous."
"Right. And I'm not madly in love with Caleb." She grinned at my surprised expression. "Yeah, I said it. We can both stop pretending we don't have feelings for Draxen brothers who are complicated and exhausting and somehow still worth it."
She left to get food from the dining hall, leaving me alone with thoughts I didn't want to examine too closely.
I wasn't jealous. I couldn't be jealous of something I'd never had, someone who'd never wanted me.
But the image of Elise's hand reaching for Kairen's arm kept replaying in my mind. The way she'd touched him so casually, so confidently. The way she'd cornered him and demanded his attention even though he clearly didn't want to give it.
And the way something in me had reacted with sharp, hot possessiveness that made no sense.
He wasn't mine. Had never been mine. Had actively rejected every attempt I'd made to bridge the distance between us.
So why did seeing someone else try to claim his attention feel like they were taking something that belonged to me?
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the sharp, hot feeling in my chest wouldn't fade.
It wasn't until much later, lying awake in the dark while Brooke snored softly, that I finally admitted the truth to myself.
I was jealous.
Not of Elise specifically—she'd looked more annoying than threatening. But jealous of her confidence, her ability to approach him without his magic rebelling, her assumption that she had any right to his time and attention.
Jealous because despite everything—the rejection, the distance, the silence—some part of me still wanted him to look at me the way he had in that moment across the courtyard.
With recognition. With desperate need. With the certainty that I mattered more than whoever was standing in front of him.
And the realization terrified me.
Because I'd tried so hard to stop caring. To focus on myself, on survival, on proving I belonged here without needing validation from a boy too broken to give it.
But feelings, apparently, didn't work that way.
The shadows didn't come that night.
But I didn't expect them to.
Kairen's control was absolute now, and he'd made his choice.
Distance. Safety. Control over connection.
I told myself it was fine. That I'd focus on recovery, on preparing for the Wilderness, on finding whatever creature might choose me even if it wasn't the impossible light dragon I'd been hoping for.
I told myself a lot of things.
None of them made the jealousy hurt less.
Or made me stop seeing his expression when he'd spotted me across the courtyard—that moment of raw, desperate relief before his walls slammed back into place.
Like seeing me alive and walking had mattered to him more than anything else in the world.
Even if he'd never let himself act on it.