Isadora:
By the time the last bell tolled across the Academy, dusk had already begun to drown the spires in violet shadow. A bruised sky pressed low over the courtyard, the scent of rain riding the wind like a warning. I welcomed it. Rain muted everything—sight, sound, thought. I needed the quiet.
The Royals had been conspicuously absent today. No silken taunts from Lucian, no predatory half-smile from Kai, no molten stare from Rhett or the unnerving silence of Silas. They had scattered like startled crows, each pulled by some unseen distraction. Blessed reprieve. After last night’s nightmare, I was too raw, too hollowed out, to play their relentless games.
My final class—Demonology—let out with a slow shuffle of boots and whispered spells. Students filed past me in clusters, their chat
