“GET UP!” That familiar, grating voice sears in my mind.

  I rush out of bed, forgetting everything and running outside, all of the while the calls of useless, waste of air, and no child of mine, following me out the door. I fill the pail, and as I bring it back up, the screeching sounds like laughter.

  The pail spills across the mangled floor, soaking into the already moth eaten furniture.

  “What have I told you?” Father bellows, his hands choking the air, “How are you always this much of a failure? I have raised you well, have I not?”

  “Yes, Father,” I almost cry, tears welling in my eyes.

  “Well, clearly not,” he barks, “Get a move on, my breakfast is not getting any closer.”

  I bolt to the kitchen, but slam into a tall figure, so high above I have to crane my neck. I gasp, frozen with terror. Greyson Panthera is in my kitchen.

  “You heard him,” he snarls, pushing me away, “Or are you so pathetic you don’t even know how to listen.”

  I find it hard to breathe, it feels like the room is closing in. The men yell over me, their taunts terrible, their demands never ending. Panthera pushes me to my father, who holds the whip steady in his hand, coiled tight and cleaned to perfection.

  “On your knees, Mauven,” father’s face is like ice.

  I swallow heavily, lowering to my knees, back facing his eager eyes. I pull my shirt up, and look to the wall, instead only finding poison gazing back. And then I hear the familiar crack, and the world falls to comforting black.

  ???

  The clatter of silverware does little to drown the constant aching of my body. Today was brutal, filled with even more running and relentless training. It was harder today, to stay focused and make progress, especially after my reckless slip up, which resulted in a purple bruise the size of the continent consuming my eye. I think it has something to do with that dream, which seems to have stuck with no intention to leave.

  “Sorry, Fangera, really,” Caline Casanova apologizes for the hundredth time, “I promise I didn’t mean to. I had no idea you were so close!”

  I wave my hand at her, and the girl falls silent, biting her lip with guilt.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Casanova,” Kaiya pats her friend hard on the back, “Besides, after her little run in with Panthera last night, I’m sure-”

  “After what?” Both of my boys exclaim, one looking appalled, the other deathly cold.

  I wince and Kaiya shoots me an apologetic glance, getting up from dinner with Xena and Caline, who almost seem to vanish into thin air.

  “What’s she talking about?” Ryker demands, his eyes as wide as our dinner plates.

  I twirl my spoon avoidantly, carving faint grooves into the table, “It’s not a big deal. He just…cornered me in the bathroom last night.”

  Kieran narrows his eyes to lethally sharp slits, “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to know about the Lynx,” I whisper, my eyes darting around as I drop the spoon to wring my hands, “He was really serious about it, held a blade to my heart.”

  “WHAT!” Ryker yells, vibrating the room, making every remaining eye snap to us, turning my face red as I slouch in my seat, desperate to disappear under the table.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I mumble, knowing it’s a lie, “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Fine, my ass,” Ryker grumbles, shooting a glare to where Alec and his pack sit absent a member, the raven having vanished before dinner was served.

  “Can we just forget it?” I plead.

  The boys look at each other with varying disapproval, but finally Kieran turns back and shrugs, his face falling back to neutral.

  I release another breath, and stand from the table, the boys quickly meeting my sides.

  When we get back to the room, and tucked into bed, my mind whirs with everything and more. After unbearable hours of tossing and turning, I at last give up, instead opting for another midnight walk. Kieran is gone once more, but Ryker is smashed on his stomach, releasing a long, loud snore.

  I shake him lightly, but there’s no use, and eventually resort to a hard punch. He jolts and groans, almost waking up the room, and I cover his mouth with my hands. Ryker’s eyes flash open, only relaxing when he recognizes me, and realizes at once what I’m asking.

  Without hesitation, only stretching to yawn, he stands and follows me up the spiral stairs, all the while trying to soothe his spiked hair.

  “Alright,” I whisper just before entering the main hall, “We have to stay quiet.”

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  Ryker, to his credit, merely nods his agreement and falls into silence, his steps in complete sync with mine. We travel for ages, just looking around, my hand trailing along the wall, once again hoping for a secret to find.

  “Where’s Kieran?” Ryker asks, his mouth close to my ear.

  Shrugging, we come to another end of the castle, this one marked with a golden plaque, the shiny words reading ‘SHIELDS’ big, bold, and black.

  Sighing, I turn back down the hall, when I spot a large crack in the stone. I keep my eyes on it, and at last find the mark, which extends into a faintly carved, curved line.

  “Ryker,” I whisper, finding he is already hovering over my shoulder.

  “Think it’s another passage?” He mutters, his breath caressing my neck.

  I nod silently, and stand back to see the bigger picture. There’s no painting, nor tapestry, so there wouldn’t be a hidden latch. A column stands somewhat nearby, holding an old goblet, the bronze work long since rusted. There are no rugs or torches, or even scratches on the floor, only the column, which almost goes unnoticed, pushed so far into the shadows.

  I approach the column and settle on my knees, looking for cracks in the foundation. Ryker stands above, tapping his fingers on the goblet, before kicking my lightly. I sit up, having found nothing, and watch as he grasps the goblet. He turns it with force, and the goblet swivels, a light snap sounding soon after.

  We turn around, finding the wall popped open, and exchange smiles. Silently, we push the stone door open and slip inside, careful to gently close it. This passage leads to a long hall, which seems to go on forever. But this one, as opposed to last nights, is illuminated by floating candles, just enough to light the way.

  After many moments of adrenaline filled exploration, Ryker pulls my arm, and points out a small peephole from the side of the corridor he had been surveying. I crouch down and peer through it, and have to cover my mouth to stop my gasp.

  I push him in front of it, wide eyed and desperate for him to see.

  “Are those the Mages?” He whispers excitedly.

  I nod silently, returning to my view. It’s a large gathering, each huddled around a large, circular table, with no papers or materials of any kind, only golden bodies draped head to toe. It is very strange, seeing them at all. This is the first time I have since I arrived.

  Ryker nudges me out of the way and leans in to observe. While he does, I search the corridor, but get stuck on the hypnotizingly candles, which bob idly in the air.

  Lightly, I tap the bottom of the candle closest, and the flame flares brilliant blue. Shocked, I try another, this time a deep emerald. I make a game out of it, tapping each candle and seeing their color. A few stay the same flickering gold, but regardless, nothing happens when I touch any of them.

  Ryker straightens, and nods to the hole, so I again look down, abandoning the fruitless attempts of finding secrets. The Mages have all come to a stand, their hands raised in the air and chanting incoherently. The candles start to flicker with wild fury, and the hallway turns static, as if I can move the energy with a brush of my fingers. Even the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and my hair slowly lifts from my shoulders.

  Fascinated, I tug on my floating hair, which has almost come to a full stand. Ryker touches my arm, his eyes wide. He shakes his head in warning, and pulls me along, back to the entrance to the corridor, and out into the main hall. The cross into the open is like breaking free of the deepest depths of a lagoon, and I can finally breathe again, the pressure that had wound around my chest disappearing, as if I had never been there at all.

  “Strange,” I murmur, observing a piece of hair that has fallen flat onto my shoulders.

  “More like twisted,” Ryker shudders, refusing to stay near the door.

  “Wait, what?” I drop my hair, rushing to meet his fast steps.

  Ryker looks around, his face set in stone, lacking any humor he is so known for carrying. Without saying anything, he grabs my arm and pulls me into a broom cupboard, the room small but giving us the privacy he desires.

  “Alright, listen,” he speaks fast, each word smaller than the last, “I know this sounds crazy, but there was something up in there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ryker shifts on his feet, releasing nervous energy, “I can…sense things.” His lips turn down, trying to put it into words, “It’s like, when I’m around someone, or they come into a room, I can feel their soul. I know it sounds raving, but…’

  Cocking my head, I grin, “What did you get from me?”

  “When we met?” Ryker asks, seeming shocked, “Well, er, I definitely didn’t see you as a threat. More…broken.”

  “Broken?!” My eyes snap wide.

  Ryker winces, “Just a bit.”

  Suppressing the uncomfortability clawing into my throat, I move on, “But the Mages?”

  Ryker’s face falls, but just as he begins to open his mouth, the cupboard flies open. Firelight pools in, and we find Kieran, his eyes shimmering with hurt.

  “Oh- I’ll uh, leave you to it-” he starts, only to have me tear him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I roll my eyes, filling him in on the corridor, allowing Ryker to handle the rest.

  “Twisted how?” Kieran turns to Ryker, his expression back to normal.

  “It’s hard to explain,” Ryker rubs his temple, “It just felt…unnatural, when they started chanting. And then the energy shifted, and everything went static, and I…”

  “What?” Kieran and I push in unison.

  “And then I stopped feeling anything at all.” Ryker finishes, blowing out a hard breath.

  After many moments of silence, Kieran asks, “Have you felt it before? The hollowness?”

  Ryker thinks for a moment, then shakes his head, sighing and rubbing his chest, “We need to figure out a way to talk without anyone catching on,” he adds, “If they hear that we’ve been spying on the Mages, we’ll be publicly killed.”

  And that is the truth. Life does not end well for those who stick their noses into Leiyetta’s secrets. Most especially with the Mages, who are responsible for defending Savinel Erom’s magic, and are the only stopper between life and death.

  “We could use the ancient tongue,” I offer, thinking of the books in the strange, small room, where we could likely find a translation manual.

  “Too risky,” Ryker’s thumb presses into his full lips.

  “What about sign?” Kieran says quietly, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door.

  It does seem rather perfect, we could be silent as we communicate, and hardly anyone would understand.

  “Do either of you know how?” Ryker asks, his face falling when I shake my head.

  “I do,” Kieran murmurs.

  Ryker and I look to him, expecting more. Sometimes, getting Kieran to talk feels like pulling teeth. Particularly around the subject of his home, and most especially his mother, which is why it makes sense when he says curtly,

  “My mother was deaf, but she never learnt properly.”

  “So she invented her own language?” I ask, eager.

  Kieran gives a small nod, “Nobody would know what we’re saying, even if they knew traditional sign.”

  The three of us share triumphant smiles, and I almost beg Kieran to teach us the basics. For the rest of the night, we stay huddled in the dark, speaking in voices so small they could be passed off as mice as Kieran transfers over his coveted knowledge, only returning to the dormitory when the rest of the students at last begin to rise.