My heart is pounding, the erratic beat matching the chaotic rhythm of my feet as uneven breaths mist in the crisp winter air. My lungs are on fire but I don’t dare slow down, or risk sparing a quick glance behind me. I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I look back.

  Hunters—actual godsdamn hunters—broke into the College of Arcane Magics, arguably one of the safest places in all of Caelysia outside the Imperium’s own headquarters, and Ashe—the sweet, caring orphan girl I had known for seven long years before she disappeared—was in league with them.

  Is this where she went when she was adopted? Is this cold-blooded, ruthless killer really what she’s become?

  And my father. Why were they after him? Why try to ambush him at the library and how did they get past the wards? They mentioned something about framing the Covenant. How are they involved in all of this?

  I almost slip as I round an abrupt corner, nearly biting my tongue, but I blink back the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes and will my legs to keep going. I can’t stop now!

  The tips of my fingers still tingle from the after-effects of casting that spell, an electrifying sensation that eclipses the terror radiating in my bones.

  It shouldn’t have worked. Professor Maynard said it was impossible—that without a charged soulstone I couldn’t connect with the arcana like the quenari can.

  But I did it anyway.

  I know that I acted to save my life, but I also know all too well the danger that I placed myself in by inviting the arcana into my unfractured soul. Even if it didn’t run the risk of worsening my condition, what I did goes against the Charter, the Imperium, and everything I believe in. These laws are in place for good reason!

  But even I can’t deny the thrill that weaving gave me, like a rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins. It’s the most control I’ve ever felt in my life and it was all by my hand. It felt so natural, like it was second nature. It felt good.

  ‘Weaving magic is in your blood.’ Maybe there’s some truth to my father’s words, after all.

  To think that I, Danika Vossler, a mere acolyte who hasn’t even passed the exams for my license and undergone the Fracturing yet, would successfully use magic for the first time to evade death from not just one but four hunters! This is insane!

  My pace finally slows as I near my apartment complex and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over me. In a city as big as Trinity Valley, I could have gone anywhere. And, from the way they were talking to each other, they had a limited window and I wasn’t their primary target.

  They don’t know where I live. They won’t find me here.

  But, just in case, I make a mental note to pack a light bag—it’s not like I’ll be getting any sleep tonight, anyway.

  My knees wobble and my breaths come in deep, ragged gasps as I lean my back against the gated entrance. The stone is cool to the touch, chilling the sweat lining my back as I try and swallow down the pain vibrating in muscles I didn’t even know I had.

  “Nothing like a little fear to motivate a person into working up a sweat.”

  I grimace as the aches slowly begin to fade, though I’m sure I’ll be sore later, and a dry laugh rattles in my chest as I can’t help but think how proud Rose would be right now. She’s been begging for me to go jogging around Goss Hollow Park with her for months.

  Just wait until I tell her about this.

  Once my breathing is somewhat normal, I dig around in the small pouch buckled across my hips like a belt, silently thanking the gods that I was too distracted to slip it off my person when my shift started, and pull out the building key. I should head inside before my body decides to give out on me and I faint on the front steps, inches from safety.

  ***

  It feels like hours have passed before I find the energy to climb out of the bath tub. A hot soak was exactly what I needed to calm my muscles and my nerves, the momentary peace relaxing me enough to properly collect my thoughts and reflect on everything that’s happened.

  No longer fueled by adrenaline, the heaviness of the night’s events weighs on both my mind and my heart. I don’t even bother wiping the tears as they fall.

  My father is marked for death. A ‘blood bounty,’ Ashe had called it. And while I normally wouldn’t be concerned for his safety since he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, the fact that he didn’t answer my call when I first entered my apartment worries me.

  With sunrise only an hour away it’s possible that he’s sound asleep, but I should still check in on him again soon. Until I hear his voice for myself, I won’t be able to rest.

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  And, what’s more, I had used magic. For the first time in my life, despite knowing the dangers that such an act would bring or the impossibility of it, I wove a spell.

  I flex my fingers, watching the water drip from my unblemished skin. How did I do it? How did the arcana not tear me apart?

  Unless the ruenaga itself played a part? My blood is already tainted with stardust; is it possible that the poison acted as a conduit where my soul couldn’t?

  If that’s true, then I’m walking a dangerous line.

  I’ll have to monitor myself to make sure my condition doesn’t worsen—thankfully, I have my father’s tonic if the ruenaga does flare up again beyond what I can manage, but that’s not what scares me. I don’t fully understand it, and it could just be a side effect of the adrenaline, but I can’t shake the feeling that a part of me liked it.

  And then there’s Ashe. The hunter. A trained killer, every bit as cold and as merciless as the stories paint them out to be. Whatever our friendship may have meant to her all those years ago is now gone. The bright red scratch that her knife left on my throat is proof enough of that.

  And yet, I wasn’t imagining the fear in her eyes in those few moments between the bookstacks, before the others came and her demeanor iced over. If she intended to kill me tonight, then why did it feel like she was trying to warn me instead?

  Shaking my head, I quickly dress and busy myself with packing. I can try to rationalize this all I want, but the truth is that my father’s in danger and I’m no better off if I stay here. At first light I’ll go to Rosalie’s Roasts. Rose has a small loft above the coffeehouse and, by then, she should already be up and preparing her bakery for the day. I’ll explain everything to her and together we can formulate a plan.

  I barely finish tying up the contents of my overnight bag when there’s a scratch at my front door. It’s subtle, so soft that I almost think I imagined it, but a second scratch sends a shiver racing up my spine.

  No, that’s impossible! There’s no way that they found me so soon!

  In a panic, I rush to the living room window and throw open the latch. Thank the gods I live on the first floor!

  But as I turn to grab my bag and make my escape, a tiny meow echoes from my front porch. I nearly laugh as I let my bag slump to the floor, feeling absolutely ridiculous. It’s only my upstairs neighbor’s cat begging for food again, like she’s done almost every morning for the past year. Although normally she’s sleeping outside by the time I get home from my shift, she must have heard me moving around and decided she was hungry now.

  Seven hells, tonight has me so close to the edge that I’m one step from free falling into insanity.

  I grab a bowl, filling it with some leftover scraps from the icebox, and unlock the door. “Here you go, Miss Ella—”

  The fluffy black cat staring back at me is not the obese orange tabby that I’m used to seeing. Bright, intelligent golden eyes blink between me and the bowl in my hands as a little pink tongue licks its lips. Tiny black horns glisten in the glow of my apartment light and the air freezes in my lungs.

  “S-Spooky?”

  The khaji chirps in response and with a squeal I toss the bowl down and slam my door shut.

  No. No, no, no, he can’t be here! If he’s here, then that means that she’s—

  The scraping sound of a window sliding open chills me to the bone. Against my better judgment I slowly turn around. Before I can scream, a lone figure drops into my living room, landing in a crouch, and my blood runs cold.

  It’s her.

  Like an apparition from my worst nightmares, the fractured moonlight trickling in from the window frames her in sinister shadow, her red hair a splash of fire in the dark.

  “Ashe,” I whisper, scrambling back until my shoulders hit the door.

  She rises, every move slow and deliberate. Her hands are raised, empty palms open and facing me. The fury from the library is gone, replaced by a haunted look that’s somehow scarier.

  “Dani, listen.” Her voice is low, desperate, almost as if she’s pleading. She takes a small step forward and my pulse races. “We don’t have long. I can explain everything, but right now we have to—”

  “No!” Before I can think it through, I lurch forward and grab the vase of starweaver lilies from my dining table. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely lift it above my head, but I’ll be damned if I let her anywhere near me! “Get away from me!”

  Another step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Like you weren’t going to hurt me at the library?” My tone cracks in equal parts fear and anger as my pitch rises. “You’re one of them! You’re a hunter!”

  The word tastes like poison on my tongue and I want to gag. Is this really happening right now?

  Ashe stops, her face hardening at the accusation. She takes a deep breath and her shoulders visibly deflate.

  “Do you trust me?” she asks, although it almost sounds like she’s questioning herself more than me.

  I almost laugh as I set the vase back down. My hand instinctively goes to my neck, fingers brushing the tender line where her blade had pressed into the skin, and my eyes narrow.

  “How can I possibly trust you?” I snap despite the quiver in my voice. “You held a knife to my throat, Ashe. A godsdamn knife!”

  She visibly flinches at my words as her gaze drops to my neck. I see her swallow, her own eyes flickering with guilt, but before I can make sense of it she clenches her jaw and lifts her chin.

  “I had to make it look convincing.” Her face is a mess of emotions that I can’t read as she offers me her hand. It’s calloused and steady—the hand of a killer. “But I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

  In that moment, I have two choices.

  I can scream and run, hoping that I can get away before she catches up with me and drives a knife through my back.

  Or, I can trust the person before me who is every bit a stranger now, hoping that she stays true to her word.

  My eyes dart between her outstretched hand and the unreadable expressions flashing in her hazel eyes, and for a second I see a glimpse of a frightened little girl sitting on the steps of an orphanage, sad and lonely and wishing for a friend. I took a chance then and not once did I regret it.

  Can I do so again?

  With a deep, shaking breath, I make my decision and take her hand in mine. I don’t trust her, not fully, but I know in my bones that somewhere underneath this cold, dangerous hunter’s visage is the girl I once knew. And if she’s not, then at least my chances of success will be greater having someone with her skillset on my side.

  I can only hope that it’s enough.

  “Fine. But you tell me everything, Ashe, and I mean everything.”

  “Fair enough.” She nods as if we’re conducting business negotiations and briefly I wonder if I made the right choice. “But first thing’s first. Let my cat inside.”