Jade
Which, given where I go to school, isn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Evie’s bed has been empty since dinner, when she mumbled an excuse about needing to check a reference in the library and disappeared. That was four hours ago. Four hours of me sitting here alone, replaying the morning’s events on an endless loop, jumping at every sound in the hallway.
Almost ten. It’s time to go.
I change into my training gear, lacing up my boots with hands that won’t stop shaking. The hallway is quiet, most of Phoenix Hall already settled in for the night.
I move through the shadows until I reach the storage closet at the back of the building. Once inside, I press my palm against the wall. My sigil warms, the stone shimmers, and then I’m stepping through into the familiar darkness of the passages.
Logan’s leaning against the wall. There’s a grayish cast to his skin that the torchlight can’t fully hide, and the shadows under his eyes are deeper than they were this morning.
How many times did he have to jump back to save me in the Observatory?
The moment he sees me, he crosses the distance between us in three long strides, and then his hands are cupping my face and his mouth is on mine, kissing me like he’s drowning and I’m air.
I make a small sound of surprise against his lips, but then my hands are fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, and I’m kissing him back with all the fear, relief, and desperate need that’s been building since this morning.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“I’m sorry.” The words scrape out of him like they’ve been sitting in his throat for hours. “They warded the Observatory from fire travel during the investigation. If I’d been even thirty seconds earlier, he never would have—”
“Logan.” I reach up to touch his face, and his eyes close for a half second at the contact.
“He touched you.” The words come out dark and dangerous. “He put his hands on you, and I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“You did stop it. You compelled him before he could see anything.”
“That’s not the point.” Every shift of his weight is coiled and deliberate. “If I could have gone back further, I would have been waiting in that Observatory before you even walked through the door.”
His pupils are blown so wide the gray is barely a ring, and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m all that’s keeping him from tearing this passage apart—makes the electricity under my skin hum louder.
“I’m okay,” I tell him softly. “You got there in time. You took care of it, like you promised you would when we were on the Crown.”
He makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, except there’s no humor in it. “When I saw the storm brewing, I knew you were losing control. So, I jumped back and found the nearest passage entrance to the Observatory.”
He says jumped back the way someone else would say took the stairs—like bending time is just another tool in his pocket, barely worth commenting on.
“How far back?” I ask.
“Two minutes. Maybe three.” He shakes his head.
“Not far enough. By the time I got there, the lightning had already struck. You were standing in the wreckage, and he was reaching for you, and I swear, I almost killed him. I only stopped because if a Council investigator turned up dead, they’d tear this island apart looking for answers. ”
“But you didn’t kill him. You controlled yourself.”
“Barely.” The word scrapes out like a confession. “When it comes to you, I don’t know how much control I have left.”
“Then stop trying,” I tell him, strong and certain.
His eyes darken. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Maybe not.” I rise onto my toes, bringing my lips close to his. “But I’m asking anyway.”
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then his expression shifts, and his mouth crashes onto mine, claiming and consuming. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the angle, and I melt into him like I was made to fit against his body.
The torchlight flickers around us as he walks me backward until my shoulders hit the stone wall.
The cold seeps through my training clothes, but I barely notice, because Logan’s hands are sliding down my sides and gripping my hips, making me arch into him with a gasp.
He groans against my throat, his teeth scraping my pulse point, and electricity sparks beneath my skin.
And then—
He rips himself away.
I stare at him, my lips swollen, my body buzzing.
“Not here.” He drags a hand down his face, his fingers digging into his jaw. “Not when I’m like this.”
“Like what?”
“Running on multiple time jumps and twelve hours of contingency planning.” He stops and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “If I don’t burn some of this off in the Circles, I won’t be the version of me that keeps you alive.”
I take a deep breath, calming the buzz racing through my body. Because this isn’t Logan shutting me out. This is him trusting me with the ugly truth that he’s barely holding the pieces together.
So, I take his shaking hands in mine.
His grip tightens immediately. It’s almost too hard, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“Okay.” I squeeze his hands once. “Let’s go burn it off.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then his jaw unclenches—slowly, like it hurts—and he nods.
“But first,” he starts, not letting go of my hands, “I’ll tell you more about the Council members. You need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“Then tell me.”
He releases my hands, and when he speaks again, it’s with the clipped tone of someone delivering a tactical briefing.
“Michael Aldridge’s temporal recreation magic can replay the last twenty-four hours of magical activity in any location. Any slip outside these passages, and he’ll find it.”
“What about Tobias?” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold as the memories of this morning flash through my mind.
“Tobias is complicated.” Logan’s expression shifts, pity flickering across his features.
“Three years ago, he was attacked by a vampire elder during treaty negotiations. The vampire held him down and flooded his mind with eight centuries of memories—hunts, kills, the hunger, the transformations, everything. It nearly broke him. Some say he still is broken.”
My chest squeezes. Because Tobias was gentle and empathetic with me this morning. He tried to reassure me, and when the dome shattered, his first instinct was to make sure I was safe.
“That’s horrifying,” I finally say.
“He survived, but the damage was done. He carries those vampire memories with him and can’t always distinguish between his life and centuries of predatory experiences.” Logan pauses. “The fact that the Council sent him at all tells you how seriously they’re taking this.”
“And Helen?” I ask.
The tension in his brow eases.
“Helen lost her parents when she was sixteen.” He looks away. “She investigated my parents’ deaths, ensured the case was handled properly, and made sure I was taken care of afterward.”
Hope rises in my chest. “Then maybe she can help us. If there’s someone on the Council who—”
“No.”
The word cuts through my hope like a fire snuffed out.
“Listen to me.” Logan returns his gaze to mine. “Helen has affection for me, but that does not extend to you. As far as she’s concerned, you’re just another student. Another potential threat. And the Council doesn’t tolerate threats.”
“But if you talked to her—”
“Trust no one. Not Helen. Not Constance. Not any of them.”
The intensity in his tone makes my breath catch.
“I understand.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, as if he’s searching for any hint of doubt. Then he nods and steps back.
“Good.” The tension in his shoulders eases, but not all the way. “We need to get to the Scorched Circles. Your duel is on Friday, and you need to be ready for the Fury Loop.”
“Right.” I nod, trying to shift my brain from emotional turmoil to training mode. “I’ve been thinking about how to handle Felix. He’s got better technical form than me, but if I can—”
“It’s not going to be Felix.”
I stop mid-sentence. “What?”
“I’m having Kieran switch the bracket. You’ll fight Evie in the Fury Loop. Felix will be your opponent in the Siphon Sphere.”
The words take a moment to register.
“Why are you switching it?” I stare at him, hoping I misheard. “I’ve been preparing to fight Felix for over a week. The whole strategy was—”
“The strategy changed.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s no room for argument in them. “The Fury Loop amplifies emotions. Evie’s drowning in grief right now. She’ll be too overwhelmed to notice if your magic doesn’t look right.”
“So I’m supposed to beat her while she’s having a grief-induced breakdown?”
“You’re supposed to win without revealing what you are. If we put her against you in the Siphon Sphere, where your magic drains the longer you fight, she’ll notice every inconsistency. In the Fury Loop, she’ll be vulnerable.”
Vulnerable.
The word sits heavy in my chest.
“I can’t do this.” I wrap my arms around myself. “She’s grieving her brother, and you want me to exploit that to win a stupid tournament match?”
“I want you to survive,” he says. “Every match you win is another week of no one questioning your magic.”
“But Evie—”
“Evie will lose. She’ll be upset. She’ll move on.” He catches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “But if she notices your magic is wrong, she won’t move on from that.”
“But what if the Fury Loop amplifies my guilt about Oliver and I lose control?”
“That’s why we’re training.” His thumb brushes my jaw before he releases me. “And when Friday comes, you’re going to walk into that circle, win against Evie Thorne, and walk out without anyone suspecting a thing.”
His confidence should be reassuring. Instead, it makes me feel more trapped.
But what choice do I have? Because he’s right. Deep down, I know he’s right.
“Fine.” The word tastes like ash on my tongue. “Let’s go train.”