CHAPTER EIGHT
"Okay, little flame, get off me now. You're embarrassing me," Aether hissed down the bond.
I rolled my eyes but loosened my grip, wiping my face quickly before stepping back. He settled onto his haunches, golden eyes fixed on mine, the flames at the tips of his ears flashing white for a fraction of a second. Around us, the cheering hadn't stopped.
Professor Aldara stepped up behind me, his cloak rustling softly as he placed a steady hand on my shoulder.
"Well done, Ava. Your brother… and Solas… would be proud."
His smile was genuine, the fine lines creasing his weathered face as pride warmed his eyes.
My throat tightened instantly. A lump formed before I could stop it, and fresh tears burned behind my lashes. I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
"You're worthy," he said gently.
That undid me completely. Aldara had always been Jax's favorite professor, and in that moment, I decided he was officially mine, too. I turned toward Ember and saw her openly sobbing into her sleeves. Gods. Ember never cried.
The sight of her cracked something in me, and a shaky, relieved laugh slipped out.
Then, shadows curled around me like silk.
"Well done, Princess," Asher said, stepping to my side. His silver eyes moved slowly over me with a dangerous weight, his gaze dipping briefly to my collarbone where faint embers still flickered against my skin.
I swallowed hard. His mouth curved slightly. "See," he said softly, leaning in until I could feel the radiating heat of his skin, "you do like a little danger."
My pulse betrayed me with a frantic thud. Before I could even think of a retort, a pair of arms hooked around my waist and hoisted me clean off the ground.
"That's our badass fucking queen!" Ryven bellowed, spinning me in a circle like I weighed nothing.
The world tilted. "Okay, Mister Caldar. Language," Professor Aldara called sharply. "Put her down. It's time for dueling."
"Wait—dueling?" I asked, breathless, as Ryven finally set me back on the grass.
Professor Aldara clapped his hands, beaming.
"Yes! But first—five House points to every House. You all did magnificently today. Truly one of the most promising classes we've had in years."
As we moved toward the benches, the tension thickened with every step. Ember, Maddy, and I walked together, with Sera and Darcy drifting in close on either side.
I caught myself glancing at Sera more than once. Gods, she was stunning. Ahead of us, Ezra, Ryven, and Asher walked together with their boundlings.
And gods—all three of them had shed their shirts.
Training shorts hung low on their hips, skin gleaming with sweat under the blazing sun. Ryven was impossible to miss, the tallest of the bunch, with muscles flexing across his broad shoulders as his man-bun bobbed.
Ezra walked beside him, lean and sharp, his auburn hair glinting like molten orange in the light.
And Asher… Asher moved like danger given flesh. Every stride was deliberate, the flex of his thighs and the roll of his shoulders drawing the eye like a magnet. Shadows curled lazily at his ankles, as if even they were drawn to the heat of his skin.
Ember let out a low whistle. "Well," she muttered, absolutely shameless, "if we're dying in Aegos Trials, at least we're dying blessed."
Darcy snorted, and even Sera's lips twitched.
"You were incredible out there, Ava," Sera said, her voice thoughtful.
I blinked. "No, I wasn't. It was just… a good moment."
"She's being modest," Maddy cut in. "It felt like the containment ring breathed when you flared."
"The magic flexed," Darcy added with a slow nod.
I hesitated, heat curling in my chest at the memory. "Probably just adrenaline."
Ahead of us, Asher glanced back once. His hair, usually tousled, was slicked back with sweat. His silver eyes slid over me—slow, deliberate. My pulse spiked instantly.
"You are staring," Aether murmured dryly.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
"I hope I get to face Ezra," Ember muttered, sparks flickering at her fingertips. "I owe that smug grin a fireball to the face."
I snorted and looked at Sera. "I hope I'm not up against you. You were incredible."
Sera blinked, genuinely startled. "No way—"
"She's always been the best shadow wielder—besides Asher," Darcy interrupted, nudging Sera. "Those two are big rivals. I guess all princesses like drama."
I gaped. "Sera, you're a princess?"
"Surprise," she said dryly.
"So you've known Asher your whole life?" I tried to sound casual. I failed.
Sera shrugged. "Pretty much. He's intense, but not nearly as mysterious as he likes to pretend." She glanced sideways at me, something sly glinting in her eyes. "Relax, Princess. I'm out of the way. Asher and I have been friends for a long time."
I lifted a brow, unconvinced.
"At the Tideris party," she added lightly, "I tried to kiss him. He let me, then realized how drunk I was and took me home while I cried over a girl who dumped me. It was sweet, but that ship has sailed. We're just friends."
We walked past the males, who were locked in an intense conversation. I kept my eyes forward. I did not look. I absolutely did.sty
Of course he caught my eye. Of course he winked. I nearly evaporated.
"See?" Sera whispered.
"I'm betrothed," I muttered, folding my arms.
Sera chuckled as we sat down. "Trust me—he doesn't give a fuck."
Before I could respond, a low voice slipped in behind me. "What are you ladies whispering about?"
I froze as two feet planted themselves on either side of my shoulders. Heat. Presence. Him. Asher leaned in far too close, his breath brushing my ear.
"The God of Trickery isn't the only one you should be worried about, darling," he murmured with a quiet laugh. "God of lust, maybe?"
I almost fell off the bench. He leaned back, but his thighs were still right there, bracketing me, flexing as he moved. He was perfectly aware of how little space he was leaving me.
Beside me, Sera leaned back, utterly unbothered. "I did warn you."
I stared straight ahead, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Class!"
Professor Aldara's voice cracked across the arena like a whip, yanking my thoughts straight out of the gutter.
I blinked and sat up straighter. All fifty of us were already seated in a wide arc around the dueling ring, boundlings gathered close at our sides—every pair watching, waiting, and pulsing with the restless energy of the rising moon.
Aldara stepped into the center of the arena. From within his sleeve, he drew his wand.
It was a professor's wand—Silverwood veined with Academy crystal—its core tethered directly to the Monolith network deep beneath the grounds. He flicked his wrist once, and the runes carved into the floor ignited.
Light surged upward in a rising arc, forming a translucent dome that sealed over the ring with a resonant, metallic hum. The air shifted instantly—dense, contained, and dangerously charged.
We were outside it. Spectators. Safe.
"No one enters once the ward is raised," Aldara said evenly. "And no one interferes." The shield shimmered, layered with sigils that pulsed in a quiet, heartbeat rhythm.
"This barrier exists to contain the magic inside this ring. And to protect you from it."
Silence settled heavily across the stands.
"Fae are powerful," he continued. "But you are not immortal." The words landed like a physical strike.
"A shallow cut will clot. A bruise will fade. But deep wounds? Internal rupture?" His eyes hardened as he scanned our faces.
"You will not regenerate through arrogance. If you are broken inside this ward, you will be carried to the infirmary like anyone else."
The shield flared in response to the wand in his hand. "This is not Riftball," he said.
"This is evaluation. And evaluation begins with understanding your Core."
With another flick of his wrist, light bloomed in the air above the arena floor. A translucent figure formed—golden channels branching through a spectral body. At its center glowed a steady, brilliant sphere of light.
"This," Aldara said, "is your Core. It is the regulator between you and the Monoliths. It determines how much magic you may draw without tearing yourself apart."
The projection showed energy flowing smoothly through the figure's arms.
"You must understand," he added, his voice dropping into a solemn tone, "the Containment Ring is more than just a wall. Inside these wards, your magic is a storm in a bottle. Every surge you fail to control will bounce back and settle in your own marrow."
The sphere in the projection brightened. "If your Core is stable, your power is stable." The channels flared a violent red. "If you overdraw, it overheats. If you force it—"
A crack splintered across the glowing sphere.
"—it fractures." The light inside the projection flickered and died. "And when your Core destabilizes, your body does not repair until the Core is stabilized. This is the Law of the Core."
He lowered the wand, and the projection dissolved.
"Power is borrowed." A beat. "Not owned. And it always collects its debt."
He turned toward the shielded ring. "First up—Darcy Morvain and Rhea Marcellis."
We erupted into cheers, hands slapping Darcy's back as she rose.
She shot us a sly, confident grin and sauntered toward the center of the ring, Void tucked snugly beneath her collar like a shadow come to life.
I was watching Darcy roll out her shoulders when something slithered into the arena.
A viper.
It moved like liquid moss beneath the sunlight, scales shimmering green and gold as it coiled upward. Higher. Higher.
At full height, it rose nearly to Darcy's chest—thick as a tree limb, with a tail that still circled the stone floor. Its hood flared wide, fangs gleaming wickedly as it hissed, tongue flicking.
Even Darcy blinked. "What the fuck," she muttered, not even attempting subtlety.