“Aklan,” I whispered, my voice trembling, sharp enough to mirror the ache in my chest. “What are you doing here?”
The world snapped. That’s what.
I hadn’t expected anyone. There wasn’t supposed to be a curfew; it was the one night first years had to enjoy certain privileges, like alcohol and riza-dust-spiked punches, a night when the entire academy was drunk on lantern light and glowing wine. I thought maybe someone had forgotten a brooch or wanted to borrow highlighter powder.
One moment, I was standing in my dorm’s doorway, glaring at Aklan Draven, the man I hated more than life itself; the next, a golden thread—hot, electric, and alive coiled around my heart and yanked. I hadn’t heard a single word of anything he had muttered.
My chest tightened, a vice crushing my ribs, stealing my
