Chapter Two
As Cassara climbed the loading ramp, their voices followed, Gideon’s mockery, Julian’s claims, and her father’s ultimatum, all pressing down on her at once.
This school won’t make you better. It’ll just reveal the ways you fall short.
You don’t touch what’s mine.
Leash it is.
She clenched her jaw and pushed the words aside. They weren’t worth remembering. Not here. Not now.
“Cassara?”
Cassara stopped and slowly turned to see Olivette Ashton pushing through a tight knot of students, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with delight.
Her thick chestnut curls, which had been pinned up in a twist, were already sagging under the damp weight of steam and magic-charged air.
Her Vallemont uniform was neat but a touch snug through the middle.
Evie had always favored second helpings over appearances.
She beamed and Cassara felt the tension in her chest ease just a fraction.
“It is you!” she called out, breathless. “You actually came!”
Cassara raised a brow. “You sound surprised.”
Evie’s grin faltered just a little. “Well, we weren’t sure if your father would let you go, we all know how against the idea he was.”
“It just took a bit of convincing,” Cassara replied with a casual shrug.
“And?”
“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” She wasn’t about to discuss the terms of her enrollment in the middle of the crowded deck.
Before Evie could respond, another voice glided in, sugar-dipped and far too smooth.
“Well, well. Look who’s defying expectations.”
Cassara didn’t need to turn, she knew the tone. Sonia de Kere, poised and perfect as always. Her braid was woven with school colors, the crimson contrasting sharply with the honey blonde. Her makeup was flawless, and her expression held just enough warmth to pass for friendly.
If you didn’t look too closely.
“Sonia,” Cassara said, her smile thin.
Sonia gave her a once-over. “I honestly thought we’d be reading about your failed escape in the society pages.” She laughed, light and sharp. “Evie nearly bet her first-year stipend on you.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “It was dessert tokens, and only because I knew she’d show.”
“Mmm. You’re sweet,” Sonia said, her smile stiff. “Sweetness isn’t often rewarded here, but… admirable.”
A moment later she gasped, lifting her hand to cover her mouth.
"Oh dear, what happened to your complexion?” Sonia tilted her head, studying Cassara's face with theatrical concern. “All those freckles... Did you spend the entire summer in the stables? There are creams for that, you know."
Cassara’s jaw tensed. The freckles Sonia was so pointedly noticing had multiplied over the summer due to hours spent conditioning for Vallemont rather than hiding in drawing rooms giggling over tea.
Cassara started to say as much, but Sonia’s attention had already shifted along with the expression on her face.
“Oh,” she breathed, pushing past Cassara. “Here comes Julian.”
Cassara’s stomach knotted and she could already feel the shift in the air around them, the way students subtly glanced his way, how space carved itself in his wake.
Sonia straightened, adjusting her collar. “He looks positively devastating in crimson, doesn’t he?”
“Has he gotten taller since your birthday gala, Cassara?” Evie asked.
Cassara’s hands slipped into her pockets. Her fingers closed around the smooth edge of the carved token like it was a lifeline.
She wasn’t ready for another confrontation, not after the dock, not after the way he spoke like she was already his.
“Cassara?” Evie turned to look at her when she didn’t answer.
“You’ll have to ask him,” she said, already stepping back, “Save me a spot at the railing will you? I need to return something.”
Evie blinked. “Right now?”
“Before I forget.”
Sonia tilted her head. “I’ll be sure to keep him entertained in your absence.”
Cassara didn’t answer. She turned and slipped into the crowd, boots thudding against the metal grating as the din of the platform swallowed her whole.
She made her way inside and down a set up stairs.
Wood creaked beneath her boots as she descended, the hum of the engine growing stronger with each step.
The air felt heavier here, warmer, infused with magic and the smell of polished brass and something vaguely sweet, like candied citrus left too long in the sun.
The common room opened before her, a mismatched sprawl of first-day anxiety. Students were already vying for space, claiming window seats, spreading jackets across lounges, bickering over luggage carts and snack trays.
A cluster of upperclassmen occupied a row of velvet-backed booths near the rear, laughing too loudly and eyeing every first year who passed like fresh meat.
Cassara slipped through without drawing attention. Her hand was still buried in her pocket and the carved token tucked in her palm grounded her more than she cared to admit.
A cursory glance and Cassara spotted the girl almost instantly.
She was seated at a narrow window table, half of her enormous satchel upended across the surface.
Books, scarf bundles, an old tin lunchbox, a cracked mirror charm, and what looked suspiciously like a faded stuffed phoenix chick lay scattered across the cushions.
Her brows were pinched in panic, hands rifling through layers of haphazard clutter.
Cassara stopped beside the table.
“Looking for this?”
The girl froze.
Her head snapped up and the moment her eyes landed on the token in Cassara’s hand, her entire face lit like morning sun breaking through storm clouds.
“Oh my stars, yes! Yes—I—thank you! Gods, thank you,”
Before Cassara could react, the girl pulled her into a crushing hug, arms wrapped around her like they’d known each other for years.
Cassara went stiff. “What are you—”
“You found it!” the girl said into her shoulder. “I thought I lost it for good! It’s my great-grandfather’s! He was the first tamer in our line and my grandmother always said I had to carry it when I started at Vallemont and—gods I can’t believe I dropped it,”
Cassara peeled herself free, face burning.
“Okay. You have it now. Personal space.”
The girl stepped back, sheepish but still glowing with gratitude. “Sorry. I get… excited. Thank you again. Really. That thing’s survived three generations, two border crossings, and one accidental plunge into a fjord.”
Cassara raised a brow. “Then maybe keep it somewhere it can’t fall out.”
“Yeah. That’s fair.”
She paused, then added, almost shyly, “I’m Liri, by the way. Lirien Halvorsen. I, uh, asked around. You’re Cassara Allencourt, right? I wasn’t sure at first, but… well. You kinda stand out.”
“Do I?” Cassara tilted her head.
“Not in a bad way,” Liri rushed. “Just… you know. Famous legacy. Your mom was the Ember Songbird. No pressure or anything.”
Cassara offered a tight, noncommittal smile.
Liri gestured to the opposite seat. “You wanna sit?”
She hesitated. It was the way Liri had said it, like it wasn’t weird and they weren’t strangers. As if offering a place at her table was the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, Cassara considered it, though she couldn’t have said why. Until she caught sight of Julian ducking as he reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the common area. He was scanning the room, coat open, stance casual but unmistakably looking for her.
She straightened. “Another time.”
Liri blinked. “Oh. Okay. If you’re sure,”
But Cassara was already moving again, deeper into the ship’s twisting halls. Away from the soft invitation and from the boy whose gaze she didn’t want to meet just yet.
The corridor tilted slightly under her boots as the airship began its ascent, a low rumble thrumming through the floor and into her bones. Cassara moved without urgency, letting the curve of the hallways guide her.
She passed a viewing deck with an open arch of glass showing the sky behind them. She stopped and watched, arms folded, as the last edge of Ergemont disappeared from view.
For the first time in days she didn’t feel like she was running, she felt like she was gaining altitude.
She was free.
Cassara stood a few minutes longer before she let out a soft sigh and continued down the corridor, steps slower now as the hum of the ship deepened and the magelight lanterns along the wall flickered as if adjusting to her pace.
As she rounded a bend someone stepped out of a maintenance alcove directly in front of her. She pulled up short, stepping back only to knock her elbow painfully against the railing.
“Are you blind?” she snapped.
The stranger went still, his gaze leveling on her like she was the one who'd interrupted him.
He was tall and lean, the black sleeves of his shirt rolled to the forearm, a dueling harness slung low across his back.
His eyes beneath a sweep of black hair were a pale blue, cool and utterly indifferent.
He didn't respond, just stepped aside with a nod so curt it barely counted as acknowledgment, and started walking away.
Cassara scowled and called after him. "Most people say 'excuse me' when they nearly run someone over."
He didn't stop, he didn't even slow.
She took a step forward, annoyed. "Or is basic courtesy not taught wherever you're from?"
Still nothing, just the sound of his boots thudding against wood, steady and unbothered.
Her jaw clenched. "Fantastic. Another charmer bound for Vallemont."
He rounded the corner and disappeared.
She stood there a moment longer than she meant to, irritation curling beneath her skin like a spark that hadn't found air.
She'd spent her life learning how to provoke a reaction—from men, from teachers, from her father. A sharp word, a well-placed insult, a challenge they couldn't ignore. It always worked. Always.
But he hadn't flinched, hadn't even cared enough to sneer.
It served as a reminder that silence could be sharper than any insult.
Worst of all?
She hated that she cared.