ey boy! I missed you!” I called out. Blue, SJ, and I approached the spot where Jason and Daniel were waiting.

“I don’t blame you,” Daniel responded. “I’m pretty charming, even by our schools’ standards.”

I punched him in the arm. “Duh, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the big, beautiful guy behind you!”

My pet dragon Lucky was busy rolling around on the grass in the distance. He didn’t appear to have heard me, so I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. When Lucky heard the familiar pitch he immediately stomped over—crushing the pristine lawn and wildflowers beneath his massive feet.

He flopped onto the ground in front of me and huffed affectionately as I patted his enormous, scaly snout. It was just past dawn and the orange color of the sky made his silvery scales shimmer.

Lucky had been one of the creatures I’d accidentally brought to life last semester before I understood what my magic was capable of. Previously, he’d been an impressive stone statue of a dragon residing in our realm’s capital, Century City. When I brought him to life he became an impressive real dragon with silvery skin and glowing golden eyes.

After flying all around the realm in his attempt to reunite with me, his apparent master, he had saved my friends and me from the antagonists in the citadel of Alderon. Since then I’d developed a great fondness for him. Sadly, I rarely got to see Lucky. While Lady Agnue had been forced to accept a lot of the baggage we’d come back with from our adventures, she’d drawn the line at a dragon.

This brought us to an interesting stalemate, especially since Lucky didn’t seem to want to leave. Personally, I didn’t get it. If I was a flying, fire-breathing beast, the world would be my oyster, and I’d get away from this school as fast as possible. But Lucky had grown to like us and also liked having a home. Although he went out for the occasional flight, he always came back. So we had to adjust.

Refusing to let the creature live at our school, the headmistress made arrangements for Lucky to reside over at Lord Channing’s. It had a much bigger campus and a lot more outdoor space for Lucky to roam free.

The boys were happy to accept their new boarder, as he brought an exciting new realm of possibilities to their training. With my permission (which I gave so long as they showed him proper respect) they used Lucky to sharpen their battle reflexes. Naturally they weren’t allowed to physically hurt Lucky in any way. But they’d come up with a wide range of fighting drills that involved avoiding his tail, claws, and firepower.

Lucky certainly didn’t seem to mind. In fact, from what I’d heard from Daniel and Jason, he actually enjoyed the drills. It kept his mind off missing me, which he expressed from time to time by flying over the main campus of Lord Channing’s and roaring loudly.

Under Lady Agnue’s insistence, I’d had to order Lucky to stay away from our campus and listen to Jason and Daniel. I didn’t use magic to enforce the order; I just told him. He’d listened, but clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Today, much to his delight and mine, we were reunited. It was the day of the Twenty-Three Skidd tryouts, and while I would have preferred to be a bit more well-rested, I was thrilled to be making the trip over to Lord Channing’s for the main event. That’s why Lucky was here—to transport us.

My friends and I had realized something earlier in the week: how exactly was I going to get to tryouts? The magic hunters in the forest between our campuses ruled out any regular methods of getting to the boys’ school. My classmates were going to take the main road to Lord Channing’s when the In and Out Spell was lowered later, but that wasn’t an option for me. The hunters could track my scent and would sense me coming. Even flying there on Pegasi could be risky, as it left me vulnerable to hunters with bows and arrows.

As a result, we’d decided to level with Lady Agnue. While my headmistress highly doubted that the threat of the magic hunters was as great as we’d described, she had agreed that she was liable to at least try and ensure my safety. Thus, she’d granted permission for Daniel and Jason to bring Lucky over to fly us. She’d told the guards patrolling our campus not to be alarmed when he landed this morning. The only catch was that we had to go at this ghastly hour so our classmates wouldn’t see Daniel and Jason.

The girls at school—like the boys at Lord Channing’s—already knew about Lucky, so seeing my dear dragon on campus wouldn’t freak them out. But Lady Agnue didn’t want anyone to know that Daniel and Jason could phase through the In and Out Spell. Hence our dawn departure. We needed to be in the air and in the clear before the other students woke up. Given that it was five o’clock on a Saturday, and no sane teenager would ever willingly wake up that early, I felt safe that we were in the clear.

As we prepared to take off, I was grateful for our headmistress’s uncharacteristic, begrudging help. In addition to allowing Lucky to transport us, Lady Agnue had made a few other provisions to minimize the threats we claimed existed beyond the school. When the In and Out Spell was lowered for other students to cross through later today, it was only going to go down for three minutes to reduce any risk of hunters coming through the forest. It would then rise back up until the end of tryouts. Meanwhile, when the force field was lowered, guards were going to be positioned at all vantage points—watching vigilantly in case anyone unauthorized tried to sneak on campus.

I appreciated that. While Lady Agnue seemed perfectly content with the idea of having me shipped off to Alderon if I crossed her, as long as I maintained my good behavior she was committed to living up to her responsibility as headmistress to protect the school against any possible threats, even if that meant protecting me in the process.

Eager to get going, Blue, SJ, and I hopped on Lucky with Jason and Daniel, and we took off into the sky.

Dawn’s cold beauty rushed against my face, and I grinned ear to ear. It was peaceful to be surrounded by nothing but crisp air and clean clouds. I glanced over my shoulder at Lady Agnue’s. The school’s towers and turrets looked remarkable from a distance. The practice fields, too, were quite a sight. It was only at this great height that you could truly appreciate the expanse of pure green grass stretched out like a fine rug, the assortment of trees everywhere, the track and obstacle courses that gleamed in the soft light, and the barn and massive stables.

Their glorious display faded from view as Lucky bridged the area above the forest separating our two academies. Instinctively my hand tightened around the ridge of Lucky’s back that I held onto. We were hundreds of feet above the ground, and I couldn’t see much of anything beyond the tops of the trees. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

I took a glimpse back at Daniel. He was scanning the forest below but his expression was far away, lost in thought. There was a hard solemnness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in some time. The look troubled me.

He noticed me staring and I quickly averted my eyes. It was just in time too. Beyond the forest was Lord Channing’s campus. Seeing it caused my good mood to return.

While SJ refused to look at much of anything up here (she’d never been a big fan of heights), Blue and I gazed ahead with intrigue. Our monthly balls and other inter-school functions were always held at Lady Agnue’s. The only events that we were invited to at Lord Channing’s were Twenty-Three Skidd finals matches in the spring, and we’d always been taken there through a back entrance because it was the fastest route. Peering over Lucky’s huge head, I caught my first full sight of the school.

The main structure and subsidiary buildings were built from sharp gray stone with chrome finishes. Towers jettisoned into the sky. Some were rectangular, windows checker-boarding their exterior. Others were rounded and topped with dark blue turrets. At the center of the school was a tall building that curved into a blue steel cupola. A navy flag with the school’s silver crest flew from the top.

Farther to the right was the boys’ training campus. There were seven separate forums for combat practice accompanied by four immense fields, each with its own barn and stable, and two gigantic swimming pools.

At the far end of the training campus (adjacent to an obstacle-laden course) was a colossal arena. It was regulation size for Twenty-Three Skidd, but also had the capacity to host a myriad of other sporting and athletic events. The scale of it took my breath away.

Although I may not have known what it felt like to fall in love, I assumed that it had to feel something like this. My heart was so inflated with excitement at the sight of the training campus that I thought it might leap out of my chest. My arms tingled as if touched by butterflies. No adjective in my vernacular could provide me with the right word to adequately describe the joyful speechlessness I was experiencing.

We landed right outside the arena. After I patted him goodbye on the nose, Lucky trotted away to continue rolling around in the early morning sunshine while my friends and I approached our final destination on foot. We entered through a tunnel on the southeast side. Gravel crunched beneath my boots like the anticipation building in my gut.

Soon enough, the tunnel deposited us inside the stadium. I simply stood there for a moment, marveling at its magnificence. The tryouts weren’t set to begin for a while. We presently had the place to ourselves—all the better to fully appreciate the venue for the first time.

The bleachers were navy and dark gray as per the school’s colors. Freshly lacquered lacrosse swords and leather saddles hung in dugouts at the lowest level of the stadium. The goal posts stretched high into the sky, nearly touching the clouds.

I yawned a bit, then mentally kicked myself for not getting more sleep. To yawn in this place of wonder was an insult. I regretted drinking Madame Alexander’s potion. I regretted spending time I didn’t have in the barn releasing stress through combat last night. I regretted a lot of things. But I was not going to let that stop me. Madame Alexanders was right. I was fierce. More than that, I was relentless. And I was not going to let a little sleepiness stop me from acing tryouts today.

Jason and Daniel left us for a few minutes to go wrangle a few Pegasi from the stables. Blue, SJ, and I were left to explore the facilities. As we did, I tried to behave as nonchalantly as possible. The joy of today’s agenda should have provided me with sufficient distraction from the terrible thoughts in my brain, but in moments of relative solitude like this, they were harder to ignore.

I’d been doing my best to act normally around Blue this morning, silently dreading the talk we’d have to have. I knew I could only put off telling her about my dream about Jason for so long. Just like I could only put off telling Jason about Jason for so long. But I recognized that today was not a good day for it.

Blue was excited about the tryouts and was fully invested in acing them. Jason, on the other hand, was excited to help run tryouts. Being captain of one of the teams meant he would need to keep his eyes open in order to select his newest players.

Now was not the time to burst his—or Blue’s—bubbles with such awful news. I didn’t want them to feel the emotions I was currently suppressing.

Before leaving Girtha and returning to my room last night, I made the decision to keep the dark truth about Jason’s fate to myself a little longer. I had no other choice. While I knew he and Blue would be devastated by what I’d seen, the least I could do was give them a few more days. A few more days of relatively normal existence before their worlds were shattered.

“Duck!”

I leaned forward on the neck of my Pegasus to avoid being nailed by an opposing player’s lacrosse sword. When I was clear, I rammed the player in the chest with my own weapon, knocking him off his steed. As he went tumbling through the clouds, I patted my Pegasus (the ever-trusty Sadie).

“Thanks!” I called to Daniel, who’d shouted the warning. He saluted and sped away—the silvery, holographic wings of his black Pegasus cutting through the sky.

For the Twenty-Three Skidd tryouts we had been divided into teams to compete in scrimmage matches. Normal Twenty-Three Skidd teams had nine players. For this particular round Daniel, Blue, Girtha, and I were on the same team, along with five boys from Lord Channing’s that I did not know.

The tryouts were open to everyone, no matter their age or year in school. The team I’d been assigned to was performing really well. Daniel and I were totally in sync today. We were able to showcase both our teamwork and individual prowess for the captains judging from below. Even so, we still had work to do. We were fifty minutes in with the score at twenty-two to twenty-one. Our team was one point down. Unlike normal games that played until a team made twenty-three points, this trial was only an hour long, and I wanted to win, not lose or tie.

Throughout the sky were various projection orbs the size of cantaloupes. These flying, magical spheres captured real-time images of what was going on and projected them onto floating, holographic screens over the arena.

I wasn’t going to lie. Hearing all those cheers while seeing my face on a fifty-foot screen was awesome. I felt like a rock star.

The air rushed against my face as I went after the player currently in possession of the ball. I grinned at the feel of the open sky. All of my worries dissipated. There were no magic hunters, antagonists, or visions of the future—just me in my element. I was in a state of profound peace that I sometimes forgot existed.

In recognition of this precious feeling, I vowed to myself that no matter what was to come, or wherever life took me, I had to keep going. Because moments like this (as well as the promise of moments like this) were worth fighting for.

I changed course, evading an oncoming attacker.

As I flew, I marveled at the colors around me. Pegasi wings were holographic—made of shimmering light, not feathers like many fairytale books depicted—and came in all colors. My steed Sadie had gorgeous purple and green wings that glittered from every angle. Additionally, the eyes of Pegasi glowed either bright silver or vivid cobalt and their noses exuded colorful puffs of blue and orange smoke when they got excited.

A rush of black and silver appeared at my side again. Daniel flew up next to me as the player we’d both been chasing came into view.

The player had a pretty solid protective formation around him. His teammates—one on each side, one below, and one overhead—were doing everything in their power to defend him as he made his way to the goal.

We couldn’t allow them to reach it. Our opponents were only one point away from beating us. Luckily, with Twenty-Three Skidd, our defense and offense could be as aggressive and violent as we liked. All players were geared up in heavy-duty protective armor, and there was an enormous net draped across the bottom of the arena to catch players knocked off their Pegasi.

If anything got too serious, judges flying on their own Pegasi could also intervene. It was their responsibility to referee/ announce the matches. Though they tended to do a lot more of the latter since Twenty-Three Skidd had an “anything-goes” attitude.

The judges called the matches with the aid of projection orbs, which also picked up sound. One orb always remained at the side of each judge so his narration could be amplified alongside the orb’s real-time imagery.

Daniel and I had to make a defensive move on our opponents. The rest of our teammates were occupied elsewhere, fighting opposing players and trying to defend the goal. Daniel gestured toward our shared target. “Together?” he asked.

“Definitely,” I called back. “You take high and right. I’ll take low and left.”

Daniel nodded. The two of us bumped fists, like we’d grown accustomed to doing whenever we ran a play as a pair.

He swooped toward one side; I went around the other. His Pegasus rammed the body of the higher opponent’s steed while mine slammed the body of the lower one. The impacts were fast and forceful like freight trains—knocking the players out of their protective formation and giving us a chance to move in and attack the others.

As Daniel fought the player flying to the right of our main target, I challenged the one on the left. In that same instant, Blue dove in to lend us a hand. She charged straight at the player I was fighting—her lacrosse sword driving directly toward him. It was a distraction. At the last second she swerved out of the way while I powerfully jabbed my staff into the player’s gut and smacked him off his saddle. He tumbled off his steed to the giant net below.

The unmanned Pegasus he’d left behind brought an unforeseen problem. It refused to move out of the way—preventing me from getting closer to the player I was after. Having defeated his own target, Daniel noticed this issue and rose overhead. He swung his leg over his Pegasus and jumped, landing on the saddle of the rogue Pegasus. He then drove his new ride toward the now-unprotected lead player.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Blue defending us. She dealt with an opposing team member speeding for Daniel by flying up, swinging her lacrosse sword, catching the enemy’s head in her basket, then heaving him backward like he was the ball caught in play.

He went tumbling while I charged.

Daniel and I fought the remaining player in perfect synchronicity. When our opponent was properly distracted, I secured my lacrosse sword in its holster, Daniel veered left, and I swung my leg over Sadie and tackled the player clean off his horse. His lacrosse sword and the ball it held plummeted. Midair, I twisted my body around to give Daniel a thumbs-up, signaling that I was okay. He dove after the ball, caught it, and took off after the goal.

Unlike the player I’d body-slammed, I was not worried about the fall to the net below. I had a contingency plan. And her name was Sadie.

Sadie had gotten used to my reckless maneuvers. So as I plunged through the sky, she did not hesitate to come after me. Just like the first time I’d accidentally gotten unsaddled during a Twenty-Three Skidd tournament, Sadie swooped down in my pursuit. By the time she closed the gap between us, I was easily able to grab onto her mane.

Back in the saddle, the two of us flew into the clouds to wild cheers. The observers in the arena were thrilled by my move and the goal Daniel had just scored, which tied the game a mere three minutes before the end of the match. It was a victory, but not enough. If we didn’t score soon, the game would end in a tie.

Sadie leveled off, and we flew in search of our next target. A moment later, Blue and her own silvery steed pulled up next to us. She lifted her visor.

“Now you’re just showing off!” she shouted, commenting on my latest maneuver.

I raised my own visor and grinned. “And what do you call those moves you just pulled?”

“I call it style!” Blue winked.

She looked below us. There was a new chase underway. Blue made a gesture with her hands to signal which defensive play she wanted to try.

The two of us parted ways. She dove right. I dove left. We simultaneously arrived on either side of the enemy player in possession of the ball. Blue swung her lacrosse sword at his head. He blocked then rotated the weapon to stop my incoming strike on his left. Blue attacked again; he reacted. I lunged; he responded. We sparred like this briefly, exchanging rapid strikes one after another.

Strike, block, strike, spin, swing, dodge, block, evade, strike. Then our enemy made a mistake. Blue and I had been taking turns back and forth, aiming at the exact same spots and getting him used to a pattern. I abruptly broke the sequence. After I struck and he spun his attention back to Blue, I went in a second time at a much lower angle.

With a spin of my wrist, the basket of my lacrosse sword abruptly caught the player’s foot. I thrust it upward—flipping him off his Pegasus. He spun off the steed’s back and dropped his lacrosse sword. Blue was ready and dove after the falling ball the moment it shook free. She made for the goal post with me after her, watching her back from higher up.

I glanced at the holographic clock overhead to check the time we had left.

Thirty seconds before the end of the match.

We were gonna make it. Or so I thought.

When I turned my attention forward again, I saw three players charging directly at Blue. Two more were coming from underneath. The rest of the players on our team moved to defend her, but she knew she couldn’t make it through the obstacle in time. She looked over her shoulder and gave me a wave of her hand. With one massive heave she launched the ball back and up forty feet into my waiting basket.

I stretched out my arm, activated the grip function on my lacrosse sword to elongate the staff, and caught the pass.

“Go, girl, go!” I shouted to Sadie.

The two of us took off at the speed of light. The opponents who’d been chasing Blue came after me, but I felt confident I could outfly them.

Twenty seconds.

I signaled Sadie to veer right—steering her away from an opponent who was trying to close in. A second opponent started flying very close to my other side. In a few seconds he was within striking range. I let go of Sadie’s reins and thrust the staff of my weapon out—gripping it with both hands and carefully keeping the basket side up so the ball wouldn’t fall. Grasping Sadie’s mane in my left hand, I leaned to the side and sent a sudden, powerful kick to the attacker’s ribcage. It knocked him clean off his steed. I grabbed my reins again, and Sadie and I charged toward the incoming goal with everything we had.

Ten seconds.

The goal post came into my line of sight. I could do this. We were closing in. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Twent—

Eep, look out!

Out of nowhere, an opponent suddenly swooped in front of me. Disaster and a serious crash were imminent, but then Big Girtha—I mean Girtha—intervened.

A split second after the enemy player penetrated my flight path, Girtha knocked him right out of it. She and her Pegasus came barreling in from the side and rammed the opponent clean out of the way, clearing my path.

Sadie and I rushed within scoring distance. I swung my staff and hurled the ball through the goal just before the clock struck zero. Score!

The crowd went ballistic. And so did I. Sadie and I shot back into the sky and circled around for a victory lap before landing on the field. The net and the other players were still coming down as the audience continued cheering.

When everyone was on the ground again and my team had officially been declared the winner, I pulled off my helmet and shook my hair free. I was happy. So happy. And then I saw Jason smiling and giving me a thumbs up from the dugout where he and the other team captains were judging from. My heart sank and I felt terrible guilt. How could I allow myself to be this happy when I knew such a terrible secret?

I proceeded to walk off the field with everyone else. The Pegasi needed to be prepared for the next round of players while we, the players of the most recent match, were meant to take our seats in the audience. As I neared the stands, clusters of my classmates on the lower levels bolted down the steps and swarmed me—offering congratulations and words of admiration. Even after several weeks of this, I still hadn’t gotten used to how the other girls treated me like a queen amongst princesses. Being fawned over to this degree made me feel claustrophobic.

While trying to be gracious about the attention, I spotted SJ watching me from the stands a few rows above the nearest dugout. I gave her an awkward shrug and a smile, then a wave. She returned the wave, but I thought her smile seemed a little forced.

I thanked my fans and excused myself from their throng as soon as possible. I did not feel like making my way to the bleachers; instead I elected to head for a quieter spot at the base of the arena near the tunnels. I was exhausted in more ways than one and needed a few minutes to clear my head. I placed my hand against the cold, cement wall to catch my breath. Alas, my moment of solitude lasted only a few seconds. Someone cast a large shadow on the wall beside me.

“Hey, good job out there,” Girtha said as she took off her helmet. “You were on fire.”

“Thanks,” I responded, a bit surprised that I was returning her grin, if only modestly. “You did great too. And I appreciate the save at the end. It helped.”

“Helped? Crisa, you would’ve been a goner without me. We wouldn’t have won and you probably would have gotten a concussion.”

“All right, fair point,” I conceded.

“What’s going on here?” Blue asked, appearing on my other side with her helmet under her arm and aggression furrowing her brow. “Humpty Dumpty bothering you, Crisa?”

Girtha gave me a hurt look. “I thought you said you’d talk to her about this.”

“I did,” I replied.

I turned toward Blue and elbowed my friend in the shoulder. “Blue, we went over this like, three hours ago. You’ve gotta stop calling Girtha those awful names. They’re mean.”

“Ugh, do I really have to? I mean, if the massive shoe fits, right?”

“Blue.”

“Oh, fine,” Blue huffed. She placed her helmet down then turned to face Girtha. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Apology reluctantly accepted,” Girtha said.

“Well, the apology was reluctantly given, so I should hope so,” Blue responded.

Girtha narrowed her eyes—her forehead crinkling beneath her choppy bangs. She gave Blue a glare, which Blue mirrored.

“I’ll see you later, Crisa,” Girtha said. “If you’re up late again and need someone to spar with, you know where to find me.”

At that, Girtha trudged away to the bleachers. Blue shifted her attention back to me. “What did she mean by that?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Last night I had a lot of visions that were bugging me so I went down to the practice fields and ran into Girtha. Evidently she’s also fond of releasing angst through combat.”

Blue punched me in the arm, which hurt even through my armor. Girlfriend was strong.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Crisa, you’re the one who said we should stay away from the forest separating our schools with those magic hunters on the loose. Sneaking all the way out to the practice fields in the middle of the night is a bonehead move.”

“Blue, I was way too far from the In and Out Spell border for them to see me even if they were watching at that late hour. You’re overreacting.”

The hard expression on Blue’s face softened, but she crossed her arms with a tinge of bitterness. “Yeah maybe,” she conceded. “But still, this whole thing is setting me on edge—waiting and doing nothing when those hunters could strike in other ways.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

Blue bit her lip. Her bitterness faded to something else. Embarrassment?

“I know you don’t need more on your plate, Crisa,” Blue began. “But those hunters have been waiting for you a while. And we hang out in the practice fields a lot. Which means they could have been spying on you all this time and learnt that you have friends. Friends who are not protected by the In and Out Spell and who they could try to . . .”

She cut herself off and stared at the grass. Then she sighed. “I sound paranoid, don’t I?”

“No more than I usually do,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, but you’ve got actual reasons to worry,” Blue said. “My freaking out is just dumb. I mean, yes, Lord Channing’s isn’t protected by an In and Out Spell like Lady Agnue’s. But a bunch of magic hunters, no matter how formidable, wouldn’t attack an entire school of heroes, right?”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “They’ll be fine, Blue. The magic hunters pose no threat to the boys.” Then I gave her a knowing look and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Or to Jason.”

“Who said anything about Jason?” Blue asked defensively.

“Blue.”

She groaned. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not. You like him; it’s understandable that you’d worry.”

“Is it?”

I blinked—not sure how to respond.

“I’m genuinely asking here,” Blue clarified. “Other than my hot-burning love for Bruce Willis that I developed when we visited Earth last semester, I’ve never really liked a boy before. I’m not sure if my freaking out is normal or completely off base.”

“You’re asking me?” I said. “I’ve never felt that way about a guy either. Aside from our friends, I barely tolerate the species.”

Blue shook her head. “Well, you’re lucky. I don’t like this. This whole feeling your feelings business is murky territory. You’re better off trying to avoid it for as long as possible.”

“Noted,” I said.

The judge on the field blew his whistle and all the new players began mounting their Pegasi. Blue glanced in their direction. “Come on. Let’s go find SJ and take our seats. Wouldn’t want to miss any of the action.”

“You go ahead,” I responded. “I’m pretty tired from not getting enough sleep last night. I think I’m gonna head to the locker room.”

“Suit yourself,” Blue said. “But you’ll miss checking out your handsome prince charming in action.” Blue nodded to the field.

Chance Darling was among the new wave of players getting ready to take off. He was already on a Twenty-Three Skidd team, but like several other veterans, he was participating in the tryouts to help fill the gaps in the competing teams.

He saw me looking at him. For a second I worried he might pull another one of his public declaration of affection moves. Thankfully, all he did was give me a slight smile and a wave before turning away.

I guess he meant it when he said he was going to leave me be for a while.

“I’ll live,” I finally replied to Blue. “I’ve had enough ups and downs for twenty-four hours.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then,” Blue said.

I pivoted, but before I had the chance to take my leave, Blue’s voice stopped me. “Oh hey, did you want to talk about your visions? The ones you said were bugging you last night? I know you’ve had some bad ones in the past, but they’ve never literally driven you from our room.”

I felt panic rising, but kept my expression neutral. “It can wait. I’ll tell you later.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” I said, holding back the sudden urge to fall apart. “Promise.”

Blue patted me on the shoulder. She went to join the other spectators just as the judge blew his whistle a second time and the mounted riders shot into the sky to cheers around the stadium. Finally alone, I exhaled deeply as I turned into the tunnel. I began to meander down it, thinking about my dreams.

I had to tell Blue; I had to tell Jason, but . . .

“Hey, you heading out?” Daniel’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

I rotated toward him as he caught up with me.

“Yup,” I responded. “You?”

“Same,” Daniel answered.

We walked in silence for a minute.

“You did good today, Knight,” he said after a lull.

I gave him a look. “Why, Daniel, is that an actual compliment I’m detecting?”

“What can I say?” he shrugged. “Sometimes even you deserve them.”

“Well, thank you,” I said. “You were great too, in case you didn’t already know.”

“I did.”

“Yeah, I figured.” I smirked.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we continued to walk. Light streamed into the tunnel, causing our shadows to elongate across the ground with every step. I pensively listened to the applause from the audience before turning to glance at Daniel.

I noticed something about him, something I had picked up on earlier. There was a sadness in his eyes today. I knew from personal experience what a person looked like when they were in pain and trying to hide it. I’d practically lived with that expression on my face during our mission to find the Author.

I resisted the urge to ask him about it, though. As proven by the conversation at our last ball, much as I wanted him to feel like he could open up to me, he had to do it himself. I couldn’t force him.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” I asked him, picking a different topic. “Onto the teams, I mean.”

He gave the question a moment of thought before responding.

“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a lot of competition. Jason might be one of the captains, but he takes his job seriously and isn’t going to show any favoritism. He and the other captains only want the best for their teams. And while you, me, and Blue are good, none of us have had a lot of experience—you guys because your school doesn’t have teams, and me because I’ve only been here for a semester. So honestly, this could go either way.”

I huffed. “And here I thought the one thing I could always count on from you was your confidence.”

“The one thing you can always count on from me is to be straight with you, Knight. Whether that’s reassuring or disconcerting is more on you.”

“I guess it’s reassuring,” I replied after a pause. “Everyone needs somebody to tell them how things are even when they don’t want to see it. And I do appreciate you being that person for me. Sometimes I need it.”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, a lot.”

“But not always?”

“Hey, even my pride goes on holiday every once in a while,” I said.

“Just not today,” Daniel responded.

We’d reached the end of the tunnel. There were two locker rooms—a doorway on either side of us. Daniel was headed to the left one. My destination was the door on the right, which the girls had been temporarily using for tryouts today.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Something’s wrong,” Daniel said steadily. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

I sighed and shook my head. I didn’t know how he always knew what I was thinking, but I had learned not to fight it. “I had a bad vision,” I admitted. “A really bad vision.”

“You want to talk about it?”

A wave of darkness flooded over me as I recalled the images of my latest dream. “No,” I said firmly. “Not this time.”

“Knight, don’t go all cryptic on me again. You already know you can trust me.”

“Yeah, and I do. But this is different. Can’t you respect that there are some things a person has to keep to herself? I’ve certainly been respecting your space, giving you time to come to me on your own.”

Now it was Daniel’s turn to look turned off. Our ability to read each other was a two-way street. Sometimes I think he forgot how easy it was for me to sense when he was hiding something too.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he lied.

“Daniel, please.” I crossed my arms.

We exchanged a glare.

“All right, fine,” he said begrudgingly. “You want the truth? When I went home to Century City over winter break I saw some bad signs. Rumors have been spreading about a mounting common character rebellion. While I was there, capital guards found burning flags of Book kingdoms hanging throughout the city every morning. There is also a growing list of missing persons. Yesterday I got a letter from Kai saying that some Capitol Building clerks were found murdered in their homes. The unrest is growing and officials haven’t gotten any leads on the commons responsible. I’m worried. Something is coming and I wish I was there with her.” Daniel shot me another glower as he finished his story. “There. You poked your nose into my business and got what you were looking for. Happy?”

I wasn’t.

A commons rebellion did not sound good. And yet, as I stood in Daniel’s cold gaze, I understood that I’d crossed a line in making him talk to me about Kai.

It’d been ages since Daniel brought up his girlfriend. He’d confided in me about her when the two of us had been trapped in Aladdin’s genie lamp. Since then, though, he hadn’t raised the subject again, despite my attempts to get him to share more about himself.

I understood why he avoided talking about her. Kai was a sensitive topic for us. Daniel’s prologue prophecy had foretold that I was going to be a key ally for them both, but that I also had the potential to bring her to an end.

Since speaking with Liza—when we realized that our prophecies had more than one interpretation—a lot of the tension had been alleviated. Even before that, Daniel had told me he didn’t hold his prophecy against me. He knew its outcome relied on his choices, and he wasn’t going to blame me for what Liza had predicted.

Despite this, he still got a bit weird even saying Kai’s name in front of me. I wished I could change that. He didn’t need to feel so awkward about sharing with me. We knew each other better than that. Yes, we were avoiding acknowledging this, but as of late I was willing to be open with him about most things. I was trying anyway.

As such, he shouldn’t have gotten so defensive over me inciting the same from him. His response just now felt uncalled for. I’d let it go the other night at the ball, but now I was annoyed. I had been letting him in on the things that were hardest for me to talk about—my fears, my doubts, etc. He should’ve felt comfortable doing the same with me. He certainly shouldn’t have been acting so nasty about it.

“Sorry,” Daniel said coldly. He’d noticed I was upset and was trying to remedy the situation, but I could tell by his tone that he felt no remorse. “You know I’m not that fond of sharing personal stuff. It’s not in my nature.”

“Nice try, Daniel,” I replied. “But you can’t use that as an excuse anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you already let me in,” I replied bluntly.

“Yes, and you let me in. But are either of us sure that was such a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Knight, you know exactly what I mean. I’m not the only one here conflicted over what happened between us last semester—how we confided in each other so deeply. I can see it in your eyes whenever we talk about the personal stuff. You may be leaning into it more than I am, but you think our relationship is weird too.”

I shifted awkwardly. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t know how to say it out loud.

“I’ve been trying to be a good friend and be there for you,” Daniel continued, “but tell me that you don’t feel it too, that there isn’t some part of you that’s uncomfortable with how well we know each other.”

Our conversation had reached a delicate point. I didn’t respond, but the uncertainty on my face was all the confirmation Daniel needed. What he didn’t realize though, was that my reaction was only one part uncertainty. The other part was wariness over what I feared he was about to do. He saw what he wanted to see, not the full picture.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he said. “The same goes for me. While letting each other in allowed us to build the trust we needed to get through our last mission, it feels strange talking about deep stuff with you on a regular basis.”

I swallowed the hurt. The guardedness I’d been trying so hard to push away began to seep back into me. “So what are you saying?” I asked. “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“No,” Daniel replied. “I’m saying we classify here and now what kind of friends we are. There’s a line, Knight, and ever since we got back to school we’ve been dancing around it. But we can’t do that forever. We either deal with what went down between us and come to terms with knowing each other this personally, or we pretend like the whole thing never happened and move on. We stay friends, but the non-close kind.”

Daniel’s eyes locked with mine for a long, hard beat.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

He crossed his arms. “I think it’d be easier. We get along fine now. Eliminating the deep stuff wouldn’t change that. It’d only make things run smoother.”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t think that was true. I wanted to tell him that this was a mistake and I didn’t want to go backward. I’d spent a long time building up the strength and courage to place this kind of trust in him. If he threw it back in my face, then what had been the point of it all?

I opened my mouth to express some of these sentiments, but my lips tightened when I saw Daniel’s expression. He was sure of his decision. It had already been made without my input. He no longer wanted my trust and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Yeah,” I said, lying to hide my hurt. “I guess so.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” he said. “You and I stay exactly as we are. We keep it simple. We talk about nothing relating to what we said in the lamp, nothing personal, and nothing—”

“Nothing that matters,” I finished.

“Yeah,” he said. “Nothing that matters.”