Voidbound

Blood and ashes

Chapter 2: Blood and Ashes

Elara didn't sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard it. The Void remembers you. Every time she opened them, she half-expected to see Kaelen standing in the corner of her dormitory, pale and hollow-eyed, reaching for her.

He never was. Just shadows. Just the creak of old wood and the distant hum of the academy's wards.

By dawn, she had convinced herself it was a dream. Grief did strange things to the mind. She'd spent five years hearing her brother's voice in crowded streets and empty rooms. This was no different.

She dressed in the dark, avoiding the cracked mirror above the washbasin. The uniform was a size too large, the hem frayed where a previous owner had tried to shorten it. She looked like exactly what she was: a charity case in a school full of heirs.

The dining hall was a cathedral of glass and gold. Long tables groaned under platters of fruit and fresh bread, and students in immaculate uniforms filled the air with laughter and the occasional spark of careless magic. Elara grabbed a roll and retreated to the farthest corner she could find.

She made it three bites before a tray slammed down across from her.

"Morning, roommate!"

Elara looked up. The girl had curly pink hair, freckles scattered across her nose like someone had flicked paint at her, and bright green eyes that practically sparkled with mischief. She wore mismatched earrings—a silver star on one side, a tiny glass bottle on the other.

"I don't have a roommate," Elara said.

"You do now. Seraphina Nightbourne. Sera." She stuck out a hand. "Half-fae, full-time troublemaker, and your new best friend."

Elara stared at the hand. "I didn't ask for a best friend."

"Nobody asks for me. I just happen." Sera bit into an apple and talked with her mouth full. "You're the Void girl. Everyone's talking about you. Destroyed the west gate, killed the Awakening Stone, made the Headmistress smile. That last one's the scary part, by the way. She never smiles."

"I didn't destroy anything," Elara said, too quickly. "It was an accident."

"Sure. And I'm the Queen of the Unseelie Court." Sera winked. "Relax. I don't care what your magic does. I care that you're interesting. This school is full of boring people who think their bloodline is a personality."

Despite herself, Elara felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "You're not afraid of me?"

"Should I be?"

"Everyone else is."

Sera shrugged. "Everyone else is an idiot."

Before Elara could respond, a shadow fell over the table.

Dorian Blackwood stood there, tray in hand, black robes pressed and perfect. He was handsome in the way a knife is handsome—sharp, cold, and clearly designed to hurt. Dark circles ringed his eyes. A silver locket hung at his throat, and his gaze was fixed on Elara with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

"Veyra," he said.

"That's my name."

"I know." He sat down. Uninvited. Sera's eyebrows shot up. "You're the spitting image of your brother. Same jaw. Same arrogance in the eyes."

Elara's appetite vanished. "You knew Kaelen?"

"Everyone knew Kaelen." Dorian's voice was soft, almost pleasant. "He was the golden boy. The prodigy. The scholarship student who rose above his station." He picked up his fork. "And then he murdered my sister."

The dining hall didn't go silent. Nobody turned to look. But to Elara, the world had narrowed to the boy across from her and the word that hung in the air between them.

"I don't believe you," she said.

"Belief is irrelevant. Liora Blackwood died in the west tower five years ago. Your brother was the last person seen with her." Dorian cut into his eggs with surgical precision. "He claimed it was an accident. The Headmistress covered it up. And then, conveniently, he disappeared."

"Kaelen wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Everyone says that." Dorian finally looked up, and Elara saw it—the grief buried under years of ice. "Everyone says that about the people they love. Right up until they don't."

Sera had gone very still. "Dorian, maybe this isn't—"

"Stay out of it, Nightbourne." He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. "This is between me and the new girl."

Elara's hands were shaking under the table. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw her tray at him. She wanted to run back to her room and press her bracelet to her chest and pretend none of this was happening.

Instead, she met his eyes. "If my brother killed your sister, then where's the proof?"

Dorian smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Find your brother, Veyra. Ask him yourself." He stood, leaving his tray untouched. "Oh. And welcome to the academy. Try not to unravel anything else."

He walked away.

Sera let out a long breath. "Okay. That was intense."

Elara pushed back from the table. "I need air."

She made it three steps before a hand caught her elbow.

"Wrong direction, scholarship."

Caelan. Of course it was Caelan. He looked even more infuriating in daylight—golden and polished and utterly at ease in a place that wanted to eat her alive.

"Let go of me."

"Can't." He steered her toward a corridor branching off the dining hall. "Headmistress's orders. I'm your mentor."

Elara stopped dead. "You're what?"

"Every scholarship student gets assigned a mentor from the upper houses. It's tradition." His jaw tightened. "Believe me, I argued against it."

"I don't want your help."

"Then we finally agree on something." He released her elbow and started walking. "First class is Elemental Theory. You're already late. Move."

Elara didn't move. "Yesterday you humiliated me in front of the entire school. Today you're supposed to teach me?"

Caelan turned back. For a moment, something flickered behind the cold gray of his eyes—something almost like guilt. Then it was gone.

"Yesterday," he said quietly, "I was keeping you alive. The Headmistress was watching. If I'd defended you, she'd have marked you as interesting. Interesting students don't last long here."

"That's supposed to make me trust you?"

"No." He started walking again. "Nothing's supposed to make you trust me. Just follow. And whatever you do, don't use your magic in class. Not even a spark. Thorn will be testing you, and you need to fail."

Elara hurried after him despite herself. "Why would I want to fail?"

"Because the last student who impressed Thorn in his first week was your brother." Caelan glanced over his shoulder. "And look how that turned out."

They reached a heavy oak door carved with runes. Caelan pushed it open and gestured her inside. The classroom was a tiered amphitheater of dark stone, filled with students who all turned to stare. At the front stood a man with salt-and-pepper hair, sharp blue eyes, and gloves that covered both hands.

Professor Thorn.

His gaze landed on Elara and held. For a long, uncomfortable moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled.

"Ah," he said. "The Veyra girl."