Jade
I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in that altar room with Logan’s hands in my hair, and his mouth—
Get it together, I think, shifting in my seat and forcing myself to focus on class.
Given that I’ll be training each night, it’s going to be hell to get through my classes this exhausted.
But it’s better than not being prepared for Kieran’s trials and exposing my magic to the entire school.
So, somehow, I’m going to have to figure it out.
Maybe there’s a witch herb or spell I can use to help keep me awake.
Evie might know. After all, she told me on our first day that she’s been surrounded by ancient grimoires and first edition spell books for her entire life, thanks to the magical publishing house her parents own.
As it is now, Professor Lydia Rousseau stands at the front of the Pyropsychology classroom, her sharp features arranged in what might generously be called a smile.
“Today we’ll be practicing emotional mirroring,” she announces. “The ability to project your emotional state onto another witch is fundamental to fire psychology. Partner up.”
Before I can grab Evie, Nina appears at my elbow.
“Partners?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just settling into the seat next to me that was just vacated by Lauren, who hurried to partner up with Gabriel.
“Sure,” I say, because what else am I going to do? Tell her I’d rather partner with literally anyone else while my emotions are a roller coaster disaster?
Lydia paces between the tables, sizing up who partnered with who.
“Remember,” she continues, “this is about authentic projection. Your partner should feel what you feel. Begin with something simple. Contentment, perhaps. Mild irritation. Basic joy. Too much intensity and you risk overwhelming your partner’s defenses entirely. ”
Nina’s amber eyes fix on mine. There’s something calculating in her gaze, like she’s already three steps ahead in whatever game we’re playing. “You go first,” she says in a tone that makes it clear this isn’t a debate.
Might as well get it over with. So, I take a breath and try to think of something peaceful. A calm lake. A quiet library. Anything that doesn’t involve Logan Ashford on his knees looking up at me with those storm-gray eyes while his tongue—
“Well, well.” Nina’s lips curve into a knowing smirk. “Someone had an interesting night.”
Heat floods my face. “That’s not… I was thinking about breakfast. It was a really satisfying breakfast.”
“First-year food sucks.” She leans back in her chair, studying me. “You’re projecting lust so strongly I’m surprised the whole room isn’t combusting.”
“I am not.”
“Relax, your secret’s safe with me.” Her smile disappears as she studies me, replaced with genuine interest. “I’m just curious who has you so worked up. Oliver, right? Everyone sees how he looks at you.”
It’s impossible to miss the bitterness in her tone when she says his name.
“It’s not Oliver.” I don’t give her more than that, even though I’m pretty sure now that something definitely happened between Nina and Oliver during those trips his family took to visit hers growing up.
“Good to know.” She breathes out in relief. “So, it’s someone else then. Someone unexpected. Someone who has you practically glowing with satisfaction.”
Electricity hums beneath my skin, and I clench my fists under the table so hard I’m surprised my nails aren’t drawing blood from my palms. But, in good news, the technique works, and the power is forced down.
Now that my magic’s under control, I try again to project something neutral. Annoyance seems appropriate, given that Nina’s currently needling me about my sex life during class. But my traitorous mind keeps circling back to Logan’s hands, his mouth, and the way he looked up at me when I—
“It must be nice,” she says, so quietly I almost miss it. “To have someone who makes you feel that way. Even if you have to hide it.”
The vulnerability in her voice catches me off guard. “It’s terrifying, actually,” I admit, surprised by my honesty the moment I say it.
For a moment, she looks at me—really, truly looks at me.
Like I’m someone who might understand how she’s feeling.
Which is ridiculous, since this is the closed-off, tightly spun, always-logical Nina Aldridge.
But I suppose there’s always far more going on inside a person’s head than they let on, especially for someone like Nina, who seems like she’s mastered control even more so than Logan.
“Hey,” I say hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t expect her to share, but it feels like I should ask anyway.
“All good. Forget I said anything.” She blinks, and her walls slam back into place, although not before I catch a flash of something that looks like fear in her eyes.
Lydia appears beside our table in a flash. “Miss Aldridge, Miss Harrington,” she says in that glamorous French accent of hers. “Less chatting, more projecting. Oui?”
“Of course, Professor,” Nina says smoothly, her voice giving nothing away.
As Lydia’s heels click across the floor to check on other students, I glance around.
Other pairs are deep in concentration. Evie’s partnered with Rebecca, both of them frowning with effort.
Vera’s making her partner—poor Sam—look like he wants to cry.
Elizabeth, who’s sitting across from Garrett, looks appropriately annoyed.
Curious, I return my focus to Nina. “Your turn,” I say. “Project something.”
Her eyes lock with mine, logical and cunning as she presses the pads of her fingers against each other. “Let’s see,” she contemplates aloud. “What shall I share?”
“Something to help me get through the debate in Thad’s class today?” I suggest, which earns me a rare smile from her.
Seeming to have settled on something, she closes her eyes, and the first wave hits me in the controlled manner expected from Nina.
Confidence, smooth and unshakeable. It feels like expensive silk, like knowing you belong everywhere you go, like never doubting your place in the world.
The sensation is so foreign to me that I bask in it, wondering if this is how Nina feels all the time.
Must be nice.
Then curiosity prickles at my skin, sharp and insistent, making me want to fidget under her scrutiny.
It doesn’t last for long. Because suddenly, something else crashes through. Guilt. Raw, nauseating guilt mixed with bone-deep fear.
The emotion hits like a sledgehammer, so intense I taste copper in my mouth.
It’s thick and suffocating, the kind of guilt that comes from doing something unforgivable.
And the fear... gods, the fear is primal.
It’s the terror of being caught, of being discovered, of consequences too horrible to imagine.
Electricity floods through me, sparks wanting to dance across my fingers, drawn out by the adrenaline spike from Nina’s terror. But then I hear Logan’s voice in my head, steady and sure.
Let it flow through you, not from you.
The memory grounds me, and I rein the power back in, absorbing it into my body before it can force its way out.
Nina jerks back so violently her notebook falls to the floor.
Her face drains of color, her amber eyes wide with shock, and she looks around as if she’s terrified that everyone in the room saw.
They didn’t—they’re all caught up in completing their own exercises—and when she turns back to me, panic shines in her eyes.
“I—” She cuts herself off, her hands trembling as she grips the edge of the table.
“It’s okay,” I say, scrambling to come up with something helpful to say to someone who accidentally revealed their deepest, darkest emotions to me in such an intimate way. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, you can always—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
But her hands are still shaking, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She’s staring at the table like it holds all the answers to questions she’s afraid to ask.
Lydia’s voice cuts through the tension. “Miss Aldridge? Is there a problem?”
“No, Professor.” Nina’s voice comes out steadier than I expected. “Just pushed too hard. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Lydia’s dark eyes narrow, flicking between us. “See that you do. Emotional projection requires control, not recklessness.”
Once she’s gone, I reach down to grab Nina’s notebook for her. It’s fallen face down, and as I pick it up, I can’t help but see what’s written in hurried, desperate script on one of the pages:
Report sent to G last night. Having second thoughts. She’s not what G said.
“Give that back,” Nina snarls, yanking the notebook out of my hands so fast her nails scrape my palm.
When Lydia calls for us to switch partners, Nina practically runs to the other side of the room. She clutches her notebook to her chest like a shield, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
I spend the rest of class partnered with Sam, who projects anxiety in waves.
When class ends, Nina’s the first one out the door.
“Jade?” Evie appears at my elbow, making me jump. “What was that with Nina? She looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I adjust my bag strap, buying time to think. “One second we were practicing, and the next she was freaking out.”
Evie frowns. “That’s not like her. Nina’s usually so controlled.”
“Well, what I just saw wasn’t control. She was scared of something. Real, human fear that’s been eating her from the inside out.”
Evie’s eyes narrow. “You know, my family’s dealt with hers before.
They’re information brokers. They trade secrets like currency.
And when you’re sitting on that many secrets, they start to eat you alive.
” She shifts her bag to her other shoulder.
“Then again, everyone’s been on edge since Miles died. Maybe it’s getting to her, too.”
Miles.
His name sends a chill down my spine. The guilt, the fear, the note about “G” and reports…
No. I’m jumping to conclusions. Just because Nina feels guilty about something doesn’t mean she had anything to do with Miles’s murder.
Maybe it’s Kieran’s trials? Maybe she’s scared she won’t win every duel she’s in, which is likely her goal?
But I know that isn’t it. Because not even Kieran Cross can invoke that level of fear.
So, the question is—what can?