“You rang for me?” Sylas asks, pausing in the doorway.
Lucy stirs the second he steps inside, pacing in circles in the back of my mind like a caged predator.
“Mate?” Lucy whispers, sounding unsure.
Unlike with Oliver, where she screamed the word with wild certainty, this time she prowls restlessly, sniffing for danger rather than recognition.
“What are you trying to tell me?” I ask Lucy without speaking the words aloud.
“He smells like our mate, but something’s off…”
“Sylas, will you escort our new hybrid to the proper wing and help her get settled?” she instructs, but he doesn’t move or break my gaze. “Sylas?”
“Mate?” The word escapes his lips, changing the air in the room in an instant.
“Oh, happy day!” Headmaster Lyra exclaims, seizing his hand and mine, pressing them together.
