Jade
Six days since Miles died, and I haven’t caught a glimpse of Logan. Not in the halls, not at meals, not even a shadow passing by a window.
First-year food never improves, but tonight it might as well be cardboard. Because my mind keeps circling back to Logan, alone somewhere in Typhon Hall, dealing with magical backlash that Evie described as excruciating.
Is he eating? Sleeping? Does the backlash hurt constantly, or does it come in waves?
I hate that I don’t know. I hate even more that I can’t march up to his room and check on him without looking like the desperate first-year everyone already thinks I am.
“Jade Harrington!” Margot Ridgeway materializes beside my table after dinner, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with each movement. “I’d love to have a little chat with you, if you have a few spare minutes?”
My stomach drops. “About what?”
“Oh, nothing serious.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I’m just making an effort to connect with all our students during this difficult time. Leadership means being present, you know?”
Evie shoots me a look that clearly says good luck with that.
“Sure,” I tell Margot, my curiosity getting the best of me. Because what if she knows something about Logan? I have to know. I just have to.
“Wonderful!” Margot practically vibrates with enthusiasm. “Have you been to the observatory yet? It’s magical at night.”
“No, I haven’t—“
“Perfect! I’ll get to show you one of Blaze’s hidden gems. Come on!”
She’s already moving, leaving me no choice but to follow.
The walk from the dining hall to the observatory tower feels eternal, especially because Margot fills every second with chatter.
“You know, I’ve always believed that tragedy brings people together,” she says as we climb the spiral staircase, which is barely wide enough for one person.
“Like, obviously what happened to Miles is devastating, but look how the community is rallying. Have you noticed how much more unified everyone seems?”
Unified? Is she blind? Everyone’s walking around like they’re waiting for the next body to drop. Just this morning, Sam practically jumped out of his skin when Nina sat behind him in Pyropsychology.
“And the weather’s been so lovely lately,” Margot continues without pause. “September is the perfect month here. Not too hot from the volcano, not too cold from the ocean breeze. Although I suppose you’re still adjusting to island life. It must be so different from New York!”
Manhattan is an island, I think, even though I know she’s not referring to that type of island.
“It’s... an adjustment,” I say instead.
“Oh, I bet! I’m from California myself—Marin County? Just north of San Francisco? The weather here reminds me of home, actually. Although obviously we don’t have active volcanoes. Only the occasional earthquake.” She releases another tinkling laugh.
Finally, we reach the top of the stairs, and Margot pushes open the door with a flourish.
“Welcome to the observatory!”
My irritation evaporates.
Because holy shit.
The glass dome overhead reveals the night sky in all its glory, stars scattered like diamonds on velvet. But it’s the floor that makes me gasp. It’s covered in constellation maps made of embedded crystal that glow with starlight, shifting and changing to match the sky above.
The moment I step inside, the stars pulse brighter.
“Oh!” Margot’s eyes widen. “Look at that—the room likes you!”
I turn in a slow circle, drinking it in. This is what I’ve been missing. This connection to the sky, to something bigger than dining hall hierarchies and death announcements disguised as pep rallies.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, watching as storm clouds gather on the horizon, moving against the wind.
“Isn’t it?” Margot settles onto one of the cushioned window seats along the wall, patting the spot beside her.
“The dome shows more than just the regular sky, you know. Shooting stars arc directly overhead, even when they shouldn’t.
During the full moon, people say the room makes you confess your deepest secrets.
” She pauses, then adds almost dreamily, “Some nights, you can even see patterns in the stars—like the constellations are trying to tell us something. The same way the Unity Flame sometimes flickers with meaning.”
“The Unity Flame?”
“The one in the ballroom. It’s connected to everything here. They say when cosmic forces shift, the flame responds.”
The stars pulse around us, casting everything in silver light, and I almost forget I’m here with someone who smiles while discussing murder.
“So.” Margot’s voice shifts, losing some of its perkiness. “Like I told you, I’m making an effort to speak with everyone who knew Miles. It’s one of my duties as stand-in proctor—making sure no one’s struggling alone with their grief, you know?”
“I’m fine,” I say sharply, the room suddenly feeling smaller. “I didn’t really know him.”
“But you spent time together in the library.” Her head tilts, studying me. “Several people mentioned seeing you two there.”
My shoulders tense. Several people?
Who’s been reporting my library habits to Little Miss Sunshine?
“He saw me lost in the aisles while he was doing his own research and offered to help,” I jump to explain. “I’m still catching up on magical history and can use all the help I can get.”
“Of course! And how sweet of him to offer.” She leans forward slightly. “What were you researching? Maybe I can point you toward some resources, too.”
“Just basics.” The electricity under my skin prickles with warning, and I push it down. “Magical theory, creature classifications, that sort of thing. First-year stuff.”
“Mmm.” Her smile doesn’t waver, but something shifts in her eyes. “Did Miles ever mention what he was researching?”
Why do you care?
The question burns on my tongue, but I swallow it.
“Something about Hecate’s crossroads and displacement.” I shrug. “It sounded complicated.”
“Did he say anything specific?” She brings out a little pink notebook and pen and opens it to a fresh page, the tip of the pen hovering over the blank paper.
I shake my head, watching her carefully. “Nothing that made any sense to me.”
“No, of course not. Fourth-year research can be quite arcane.” She relaxes back against the window. “I’m just trying to piece together his last days, you know? For closure. For Logan.”
My chest tightens at Logan’s name. “How is he?”
“Oh, you know.” She waves vaguely. “Dealing with the backlash. Taking meals in his room.” Her eyes fix on mine. “Callie seems to be helping him get through the worst of it. They’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“How much time?” The words escape my throat before I can think to hold them back.
“A lot.” Margot shrugs.
The words are knives in my chest. Because of course he reached out to her instead of me. I should have known better than to think he’d do anything else.
“In fact,” she continues, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “he’ll be returning to his proctor duties next week. Isn’t that amazing? Although of course, I hope you’ll still feel comfortable coming to me with anything you need. My door is always open, day or night.”
She’s watching me like she wants to dig into my soul and tear out my darkest secrets. Electricity buzzes inside me, as if it’s ready to protect me from her invisible claws, ready to strike her down if she comes even a step closer.
“I should go.” I stand abruptly, and the stars flare beneath my feet, thunder rumbling overhead. “Thanks for showing me the observatory.”
I’m down the stairs before she can say anything else, taking them two at a time as thunder shakes the tower. The storm breaks properly as I exit the building, rain coming down in sheets that soak through my clothes.
Good. Maybe it’ll hide the tears that are forcing their stupid selves out of my eyes. Because while I’ve been losing sleep over Logan, Callie’s been there with him. In his room. Helping him heal with the power of their epic fucking love story.
Lightning flashes overhead, and I want to scream at the sky and let every bit of power I’ve been hiding surge free. I want to storm up to Typhon Hall and—
And what? Demand to know why Logan’s with his ex-girlfriend instead of the first-year he kissed—well, a bit more than kissed—a few times?
The rain pounds harder, and I don’t bother running. Let it soak me. Let it wash away whatever stupid hopes I’ve been holding onto. Because Logan made his choice.
And I should have known better than to think he’d choose me.