Jade
As I make my way to the dining hall for lunch, I catch fragments of conversation that make no sense. “Forge Night,” and “thirteenth,” and “finally.”
“Did you hear?” Evie practically bounces beside me as I near the entrance to the dining hall. “There’s a Forge Night tonight!”
“A what?”
She stops so abruptly I almost crash into her.
“You don’t—right. Of course you don’t know.
” She grabs my arm, pulling me to the side.
“Forge Nights are these parties that pop up randomly. Different location each time, always secret until the day of. The professors pretend they don’t know about them, but they definitely do.
Getting caught means kitchen and grounds duty for weeks.
I’ve heard horror stories about scrubbing scorch marks off training stones while paired with whoever you least want to be stuck with. ”
“So… it’s an unauthorized party that’s actually authorized?”
“Exactly! And they’re incredible. At least, that’s what I’ve always heard. Dancing, drinks, and everyone mingles—all years together.” Her eyes shine with excitement. “I thought we’d have to wait until Halloween, but—“
“But it’s Friday the thirteenth,” I finish, the pieces clicking together. “Let me guess—witches love symbolically spooky dates?”
“Now you’re learning.” She grins, and we continue making our way to the dining hall. “The only question is where—”
“My two favorite first-years!”
An arm drops around my shoulders, and Oliver pulls me against his side like we’ve been friends for years instead of days.
“Oliver!” Evie beams at her brother. “Did you hear about tonight?”
“Hear about it?” He squeezes my shoulder, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how solid he is, and how easy his confidence feels. “I’ve been counting down since first period. You ladies know where it’s happening yet?”
“No,” Evie admits as we push through the dining hall doors.
The familiar chaos of mealtime washes over us—chandeliers, the massive central fire pit, the four long, spoked brass tables coming out of it, and the careful social geography of who sits where.
Then I see Logan.
He’s at the fourth-year table, but his gray eyes are locked on us—on me—with an expression that makes my stomach flip.
His jaw is clenched, his hands tight around his water glass, and the look he’s giving Oliver could melt steel.
Or bones. And not even witch fire is hot enough to melt bones.
Kieran drilled that into us earlier this week in class.
Nonetheless, the way Logan’s watching us is interesting.
Very interesting.
So, I lean into Oliver, just a little. Just enough to test Logan’s reaction.
The chandeliers above us flare, flames dancing higher and brighter, like someone turned up a dimmer switch. The light casts dramatic shadows, making our little trio impossible to miss.
Logan stands abruptly, his face all sharp angles and barely controlled... something. He takes one step toward us, then another, and I can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the fact that Logan Ashford is about to—
He stops.
It’s jarring, like watching a film skip frames.
One second, he’s moving toward us with purpose.
The next he’s turning away, his movements too sharp, too sudden.
He drops back into his seat like nothing happened, but his shoulders are rigid, his hands clenched, and pretty much everyone around us is staring.
“What on earth was that?” Evie mutters.
“I have no idea,” I say, but my skin prickles with awareness, since I have a pretty good idea what set him off.
“Forget him.” Oliver pulls me closer and steers us toward the first-year table. “I’ve got the intel you need for the Forge party tonight. It’s at the Drowned Tower. Midnight.”
“The Drowned Tower?” Evie’s eyes widen. “But that’s—“
“Partially flooded at high tide, probably haunted, and definitely off-limits?” Oliver grins. “That’s what makes it perfect.”
“You’re insane.”
“You love it.” He releases my shoulders, but not before giving me an extra squeeze. “Jade, you’re coming, right? And before you say anything, there’s only one correct answer—yes. I can’t have you missing your first Forge Night.”
The way he looks at me—interested, uncomplicated, and, most importantly, available—should be exactly what I want.
But my traitorous eyes drift back to the fourth-year table.
Logan’s not looking at us anymore. He’s bent toward Miles, who’s shoving a notebook into his bag like it contains state secrets. Miles glances our way, catches me watching, and says something that makes Logan’s jaw tighten further.
“Jade?” Oliver’s voice is softer now. “The Drowned Tower? Midnight?”
Yanking my focus away from Logan and Miles, I return it to Oliver, who’s watching me with hope in his eyes. “I’ll be there,” I say, forcing excitement into my tone.
“Perfect.” His smile could power the entire academy. “Ladies, I’ll see you tonight. Jade...” He winks. “Save me a dance?”
He saunters off to the third-year table before I can reply, where Avery brightens at his approach.
“He’s totally into you,” Evie says as we find seats at our usual spots in social Siberia.
“He’s nice.” I reach for bread, needing something to do with my hands.
“Nice? Jade, my brother doesn’t do ‘nice.’ He does interested. And he’s very interested.” She pauses. “Unless you’re hung up on—“
“I’m not hung up on anyone.” The words come out too fast, too defensive.
Evie gives me a look that says she’s not buying it, but she mercifully drops the subject. “The Drowned Tower is ambitious for the first Forge Night. You know it’s literally in the ocean, right? Connected to the island by this ancient stone bridge that goes underwater at high tide?”
“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes and tear my bread in half. “Because nothing at this school can just be normal.”
“Where’s the fun in normal?” She grins. “Besides, racing the tide to get back adds to the excitement. Nothing like potentially drowning to make a party memorable.”
I laugh despite myself. “My parents would be so proud. From Ivy League rejections to a magical drowning party in two weeks.”
“It’s called character development.”
The chandeliers above us dim back to normal levels, and I can’t help one last glance at the fourth-year table. Logan’s not looking, but his posture still screams tension.
Miles catches my eye again, his eyes calculating in a way that makes me shiver. He leans over to whisper something to Logan, making Logan’s body go even more rigid than before.
I turn away, focusing on Evie’s excited chatter about what to wear tonight.
Not on whatever game Logan’s playing. Not on the way he looked at me for those few seconds before his bizarre reversal.
And definitely not the way my pulse still races whenever I think about that kiss.