Entwined Darkness

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Joshua

I've always been the patient one. The backup. Mason got the title, the influence, his face all over the palace walls — while our father's approval seemed to get heavier every year Mason held onto that crown. My family made it clear — they wanted power, and Mason was the obvious choice.

Mason can't sit still. He needs to keep moving, always wants more. He can't help himself — just watching isn't enough for him. That right there is the flaw in him, the thing our father never spots. Dad sees Mason's dominance and calls it strength. He misses the hunger that drives it. He doesn't notice how Mason claims things with his eyes before he even says a word, like he expects to win just by showing up.

I see it, though. Studying Mason turned into a habit — probably the only useful one I've got.

So this morning when I spotted him in the eastern gardens, walking with that fake-casual stride he uses any time he's landed right where he wants to be, I watched. That's when I noticed her.

The omega from orientation. The girl who said a dead girl's name with everyone else pretending not to care. She caught my attention back then — interesting, maybe even useful. I hadn't worked her into my plan yet. I've been working on this for years.

And watching Mason drift over, sure she was already his

She stopped being just interesting.

I watched just long enough. Then I called for Mira.

Vesper

Unease

It followed me outside, stuck to my skin, and gave no reason. After orientation classes dragged on. Rules I was apparently supposed to memorise already. Faces decided about me before I even spoke. I kept my expression blank, scribbled perfect notes, replayed the way Director Cassel's face froze when I said beta woman. I decided that was plenty for day one.

Well, almost.

I was heading toward the dorms when I saw her — Luna, my dog. She should have been home, running wild, worlds away from this place. But instead she sat waiting at the edge of the path, patient the way only a dog who knows you're coming can be.

I stopped. She watched me and I stared right back.

"You're not supposed to be here," I said.

She turned and wandered down the path.

Of course I followed. A dog who isn't supposed to be anywhere near me showing up out of nowhere? No way was I letting that slide. I've always chased after things that don't add up.

The path twisted away from campus and everything got quieter. The gardens rolled out in front of me — way bigger and older than I expected. Like the school had wrapped itself around them instead of the other way. Tall hedges carved out green hallways. Flower beds tangled in a beautiful wild mess, the kind that happens when someone actually understands that real beauty needs a bit of chaos.

Luna plopped down in the open, right on cue.

I looked up.

He was there. Leaning against a stone wall, arms folded, grinning a little like he'd been waiting for me all morning. The boy from orientation — the one who made the whole room feel like it belonged to him. The one whose expression shifted when I said Sarah Wyatt's name.

Up close he felt like an even bigger problem.

I decided not to care.

"Did you bring my dog here?" I asked.

"She goes where she wants," he said.

His voice was exactly what I expected — low, steady, sharp. The kind that never needs repeating.

"That's not an answer."

"No," he said. "It isn't."

Luna was at his feet, perfectly content. She looked right at home. Traitor.

Her tail wagged like it was a joke only the two of us got.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He met my stare, sizing me up. "Someone who watched you walk into orientation and say a name nobody else dared." He tilted his head.

"Why'd you do that?"

"It was her name. Leaving it out was wrong."

"Most people act like the wrong is someone else's problem."

"Most people are cowards."

Something flickered across his face. Not quite a smile but almost. Like actually smiling would cost him something.

"You're not scared of the consequences," he said. Not a question — just a fact.

"I'm scared of plenty. I just don't let fear run my life."

He went quiet. Not the empty kind of silence but the calculating kind.

Thinking. Weighing something I couldn't see.

The worst part? I wanted to know what.

"You followed your dog into a garden you've never seen before, on your first day, after getting sent to the director's office. And you're still standing here talking to me instead of leaving."

"You haven't sent me running yet."

"Or maybe you're just curious."

"I'm always curious. That's been trouble since I was little."

The edge of a smile finally slipped out.

"I believe that," he said.

I almost asked his name again — I'd decided I was going to — when footsteps came fast behind me. Official. That clipped pace that means someone's not here by choice.

I turned.

An administrator strode up, looking at me like he was reading off instructions. "Miss, you're needed in the main building. There's an issue with your dormitory assignment."

I glanced back at the clearing.

He was gone.

Luna sat in the middle of the garden staring at the spot where he'd been, looking weirdly sad.

She missed him.

I stashed that away and followed the administrator back inside. My head buzzed with thoughts of a boy whose name I didn't get, a voice that never had to shout, and a silence that felt a little too alive.

I tried telling myself it didn't matter.

Not even I bought that.

M.A

Control

I got the timing right.

Not before she told me curiosity was always her problem — I wanted that piece. Not after, because then she'd ask my name again and I wasn't ready to lie.

It had to be exact.

She spoke to me in that garden like I was just a person, not a rank. Four minutes — easily the strangest four minutes I've had in years — and she didn't dodge or perform. She just said what she meant, in order, eyes on me like daring me to call it unreasonable.

I didn't find any of it unreasonable. I've been trying not to dwell on that.

Joshua was at the north window. Third from the left — he always picks that one. I saw him before I even crossed the grass. He wore his calculation face, the one that means he's running numbers, waiting for everything to land where he wants it.

He saw her.

He saw me with her.

Good.

Let him do his equations. Let him slot her in as a variable. Let him reach for Mira and feel clever about it.

He doesn't know I built the mechanism he's so proud to find. He doesn't

I know I've been watching every move he makes, three steps ahead, pulling strings while he's still drawing his map.

Joshua thinks patience makes him powerful.

He hasn't realised patience isn't

vision.

She didn't ask my name a third time.

She will. And even then I still won't be ready.

That's new.

I don't know what to do with new