Jade
Everything for the rest of the day feels like it’s happening underwater while my mind races ahead to tonight. To Logan. To training.
But there’s one problem.
Evie.
She’s at her desk, surrounded by textbooks and notes, showing no signs of moving. Her auburn hair falls in a curtain as she bends over her homework, completely absorbed.
How am I supposed to sneak out with her right here? Make up an excuse about a late-night library session? Fake a sudden craving for kitchen leftovers?
I fidget on my bed, pretending to read the same page of my Fire Philosophy text for the tenth time. The words about flame control and emotional regulation feel particularly ironic given my current state.
“Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?” Evie looks at me over her shoulder, as if she’s scolding me for pressing the snooze alarm one too many times.
“What?” My voice comes out higher than intended. Because how the hell could she know that? What did Logan say to her? And why didn’t he warn me, so I’m not sitting here like a blubbering idiot trying to figure out how to answer her question? “I don’t... what are you talking about?”
She turns fully in her chair, studying me with those perceptive eyes of hers. “Come on. You’ve been checking the time every thirty seconds for the past hour.”
“I have not.”
“You literally just looked at the clock again.”
Caught.
“Look, I know Logan’s tutoring you for the tournament,” she continues.
“And I’m perfectly aware that you need his help if you want to stand a chance against anyone in our class.
Plus, I’d hate to be woken up early by you struggling to get up for the entirety of next semester to drag yourself to kitchen and grounds duty at dawn. So, go, before you’re late.”
I stare at her, stunned.
But mainly—why the hell didn’t Logan warn me that he’d told her?
“Just be careful,” she adds, but she softens it with a small smile. “Okay?”
“We’re talking about this later,” I warn, getting up and heading toward the door.
“No, we’re not.”
I pause at the door. “Evie…”
“Go.”
So I go, slipping out into the empty hallway with my mind spinning, making my way to the back section of Phoenix Hall as quietly as possible.
When I finally reach the storage closet, I open it and step inside—making sure no one sees me as I do—and press my palm against the wall where the entrance to the passages hides.
My sigil warms, and the stone shimmers, opening like it recognizes me.
Logan’s already there, leaning against the tunnel wall with his arms crossed, looking like he hasn’t slept since last night.
The relief that washes over his face when he sees me makes my chest tight. But it’s quickly replaced by something more guarded, more careful.
“You came.” His voice is carefully neutral.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
He pushes off the wall, maintaining a careful distance between us. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Not even wild, bloodthirsty Harpies could keep me away.” I try for light, but it’s unconvincing, and I know it.
His lips quirk. “Just one Harpy, actually. And you handled her beautifully.”
We’re standing several feet apart now, that magnetic pull between us fighting against the distance he’s deliberately maintaining. I can smell cedar and smoke, and can see the way he’s holding himself rigid, like he’s physically restraining himself from coming closer.
“Did you fire travel here?” I ask him, needing to say something to break the silence.
“The magic in the passages prevents fire travel,” he answers. “Hecate’s the goddess of the crossroads, and she requires everyone to walk her paths on foot.”
He doesn’t explain beyond that. Which leaves me and him, watching each other, with that damn invisible wall he constructed between us.
“So.” I clear my throat, trying to focus on anything other than the memories of what we did together last night. “What did you say to Evie?”
Logan steps back, his expression shuttering. “What do you mean?”
“She knows we’re training together.” I watch his face carefully. “And she was surprisingly chill about it.”
“Ah.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, the small motion making my stomach flip. “Evie’s secrets aren’t mine to tell, Jade. Just like yours aren’t mine to share. But I promise you, she won’t say anything about our training sessions.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.” His eyes catch the torchlight, the intensity in them making my heart pound faster. “Now, do you want to spend our time talking about your roommate, or do you want to learn how to keep your electricity under control during the tournament?”
When he puts it like that...
“Fine.” I follow him through the passages, but the silence feels heavy. Every time we turn a corner, he stays ahead of me, never letting us walk side by side.
“Can I ask you something?” I finally say.
“You’re going to regardless.”
“What’s it like?” I ask before he can change his mind. “Being proctor? Having everyone look up to you?”
He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer.
When he does, his voice is soft.
“Lonely.”
The simple honesty of it stops me in my tracks.
“They don’t look up to me, Jade. They see a threat that’s keeping them from being the best.” He keeps walking, not turning to face me. “Do you know what it’s like to be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone?”
“Yes.” The answer comes out before I can stop it, and he stops walking, finally turning to face me.
“When my friends dropped me, when my parents looked at me like I’d always be a disappointment, when I was thrown into a witch academy where I’m different from everyone because I never knew I had magic, not to mention the magic I have to hide from everyone. .. I know exactly what that’s like.”
“You don’t have to hide it from everyone,” he says, quiet but fierce. “You have me.”
The tension between us is so thick I can barely breathe. “And you have me.”
We stand there in the dark tunnel, looking at each other, and something passes between us. Understanding. Recognition. Whatever it is, it means something. And in that moment, I have full faith that the connection he keeps shutting down is still there, no matter how hard he tries to lock it away.
Then he turns and starts walking again, as if that exchange never happened, and my heart feels like it got hit by a sledgehammer.
“Speaking of people we have in our lives, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Oliver,” he eventually says, his voice casual. Too casual.
I blink at the sudden change in topic. “What?”
“Lunch. The halls. The library.” Each location comes out clipped and precise. “The whole school thinks you’re together.”
Oh.
Oh.
He’s jealous.
I can’t help but smile. Because Logan Ashford is jealous of Oliver Thorne? It turns out the impossible can actually happen.
“Oliver’s my friend.” I watch his back tense at the word.
“I suppose you could do worse.” The words sound like they’re being dragged out of him.
Electricity sparks at my fingertips. “Are you trying to set me up with Oliver?”
He stops so abruptly I almost run into him, and when he turns to face me, the orange flames from the torches reflecting across his gray eyes make him look positively livid.
“No.” The word comes out harsh before he moderates his tone.
“Oliver doesn’t know what you are. Oliver can’t help you control your power.
Oliver can’t help you get through Kieran’s tournament.
But I can, and I will, starting in the Scorched Circles tonight.
And the more time we spend talking in these tunnels, the less time we’ll have out there. ”
The words sting more than they should. “Right. Training. Got it, Professor Proctor.”
His steel walls go up again, and we walk in tense silence until we reach a door that looks like it’s nearly one with the stone wall. It has a symbol carved into it—seven intertwined circles with flames around the edges.
“This leads to the base of the Scorched Circles,” Logan presses his palm to the door, waits for it to shimmer open, and steps through into the night air.
I follow him out, straight to the base of the Scorched Circles. The seven massive arenas loom above us in the darkness, all the way up to the Crown, and I’m struck by how alone we are out here. Just us, the stars, and all this unspoken tension.
“So,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “What are the odds I can win the tournament without accidentally electrocuting someone?”
“Jade.” He stops walking, focusing his stormy gaze on me.
“The goal isn’t for you to win. The goal is for you to compete without Kieran thinking you’re holding back and throwing the matches, while also not losing control of your electricity and revealing what you are.
If you lose every match but keep your secret, that’s still a victory, even if you have to suffer through kitchen and grounds duty next semester. ”
“Hey, maybe I have a shot of not getting stuck with kitchen and grounds duty. After all, I took fencing for two whole weeks in middle school.” I lift my chin, determined to stand my ground. “And my tennis backhand is killer.”
He makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. “Somehow, I doubt your tennis swing will help you in magical combat. Neither will that summer you played squash at camp.”
I freeze, the night air suddenly feeling colder.
“I never told you about squash camp.”
The words hang between us, heavy with implication. Because he’s right—I did play squash at Camp Silver Lake when I was thirteen. But I’ve never told him about that. Not once.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “Did you bring your dagger?” he asks, changing the subject before I can push further.
“You’re not going to explain how you know about squash camp?”
His jaw clenches. “You must have mentioned it at some point.”
“I definitely didn’t mention squash camp. I hated squash camp. I mentally squashed it out of my memory.” I try to glare at him, but it’s impossible given the tiniest bit of a smirk he’s giving me.
In a second, the smirk is gone, and he’s back to full-on business mode. “Do you really want to stand here and interrogate me when you’re days away from a tournament that could expose what you are and put you at the mercy of the Council?”
“Don’t change the subject—”
“I’m not.” He steps closer, close enough that I can see the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. “I’m reminding you what’s at stake, and that I’m the only one who can help keep you safe.”
I want to push, to keep demanding answers, but the set of his shoulders tells me I won’t get them. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to focus on not electrocuting my classmates and revealing myself as a magical freak before I worry about his mysterious knowledge of my past.
So, I reach into my jacket and pull out my weapon. “Of course I brought my dagger.”
Warmth flickers in his eyes, but he shutters it away and takes a step back.
“Good.” His voice softens. “Maybe you’re not hopeless after all.”
“You wouldn’t be wasting your time with me if you thought I was hopeless.”
“No,” he agrees quietly. “I wouldn’t.”
I swallow down the vulnerable feeling trying to make it up my throat. “So,” I say, less steady than I wanted. “Which circle are we starting in?”
“I told Kieran to put you in the Void Pit first,” he says simply. “Your magic won’t work there, which means you won’t be at risk of exposing yourself. It’ll buy us extra time to work on your control for when you’re fighting in the other circles.”
“Makes sense,” I agree, and we walk the rest of the way up to the Void Pit in silence.
The entire time, my mind races, thinking about the things he knows that he shouldn’t. Squash camp, every detail of what I needed to do to pass the Underworld trial, the perfect places to touch me…
“Ready?” Logan asks when the Void Pit yawns before us, dark and waiting.
I pause to look at him—really look at him. He’s standing farther away than necessary, his hands clasped behind his back like he’s physically preventing himself from reaching for me. The moonlight catches the exhaustion on his face, and tension coils in every line of his body.
Whatever his secrets are, they’re eating him alive.
But for now, I have electricity to control and a tournament to survive. Plus, despite everything, I trust Logan implicitly.
“Ready,” I say, and then I take a deep breath and follow him down into the darkness.