The Unstable Bond
(Nova POV)
The lower courtyard still smelled of smoke the next morning.
Black scorch marks scarred the stone in jagged patterns, like someone had dragged burning fingers across the ground. The protective runes etched into the walls flickered weakly, half-spent, glowing a dull amber whenever the wind shifted. Guards moved along the battlements in pairs now, eyes sharp, spears glinting in the pale sunlight. The academy hadn't recovered yet. None of us had.
I stood in the center of the training circle, barefoot on the cold stone, wearing the simple black leggings and long-sleeved shirt the armory had issued. My hair was pulled back in a messy knot. The bandage on my neck was fresh, but the skin underneath still felt raw, tender, as if the knife from the kidnapping had left a memory deeper than the cut.
Damien faced me.
