“That bar’s a ten. I get why people fight to leave the academy for it. It’s the best for blowing off steam,” Shakari said, nodding appreciatively.
“Speak for Dragontail. Emberkeep and Auroric visit Wolventon all the time, we make half the potions you drink,” Soehl replied, smirking at Shakari.
Auroric students learned more than chants and gestures. Their training bent toward potions, healing, and the fragile lattice of spells that kept the veils intact. Emberkeep buried itself in strategy and politics, Dragontail in steel and combat, but Auroric hands stirred vials that could coax peace into a restless mind or pull the truth from a liar’s throat. Yet potion craft was fickle; even among Aurorics, few truly mastered it.
“Like the calming potion you drank, spent the whole night slow dancing with Jan Radke. Not even to slow music,” Tran teased.
“He is a really good slow dancer,” Soehl said, her cheeks flushing pink. That only made them laugh harder. I was happy for them.
“There were potions for everything, aphrodisiac, exaltation, relaxation. I took the exaltation one. It lasted all night,” Rowan said, grinning.
“And I don’t know which potion Rory had, maybe the aphrodisiac, but they were dancing with a lot of guys from town,and Lorik was not there watching any of it,” Shakari said, a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she held the sharpest secret in the room.
“I heard he refrains from going to those places,” Tran muttered.
“Aphrodisiac potions just amplify attraction, they don’t create it. If she weren’t interested, the potion wouldn’t do anything,” Soehl said, slipping into lecture mode.
We all cracked up. She sounded like she was defending an academy thesis.
“Maybe she’s just addicted to males,” I said flatly. “Honestly, wouldn’t surprise me.” “She’s hilarious, too,” Rowan said. “You’d never guess it from the papers.”
“Never trust the papers,” I said, brushing it off. “Anyways, I really hope I get to go soon. I need win in the Hall of Mirrors. Then I’ll get to go myself, grab a potion, loosen up. Maybe even dance. Couldn’t do that in the Glass Castle. The only time I tried one potion was when Shakari smuggled me out to the Golden City.”
“You’ll win,” Shakari said, her voice turning serious now. Like it mattered more to her than any training session.
“You’ll live like a real Dragontail,” Tran added. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“Yes, look at you, Dragontail life, chasing after that noble Emberkeep in your class. What’s her name again?” Rowan snorted, turning to Tran.
“Camelia Aric,” Tran muttered quietly.
I arched a brow. “Good luck,” I said dryly.
Shakari laughed. “Stick to Dragontail females, Tran. No Emberkeep will marry you,” she teased.
“Stupid rules,” he grumbled. “She was radiant and I swear she was into me.” Rowan raised his glass. “Maybe, but Emberkeep might flirt with us, not marry us.”
Their bickering made Shakari double over laughing, and even Soehl hid her smile behind her hand. It was loud and messy and ridiculous, and for a while, I let myself laugh too. The ache in my chest eased as I joined my friends’ laughter.
We lingered until the courtyard began to empty, the noise thinning to quiet between bursts of laughter. Night pressed in, and the group drifted to tired goodbyes. I waited, letting those last echoes slip away before following the lantern-lit path out of the courtyard.
Finally, they drifted off toward the dorms, still teasing one another, their footsteps and laughter trailing away into the dark. I lingered at the edge of the courtyard, reluctant to let the warmth of it go. The lanterns flickered low as the day surrendered to night.
And in that hush, called by a need for solitude I couldn't ignore, my feet carried me along the walkway behind Solphire Tower, toward the waiting hush of the trees.
The Sequoia Trail opened before me like a cathedral. Towering red trunks rose on either side, roots twisting over the path like veins. The air cooled the deeper I walked, heavy with moss and pine, the faint rush of the river pulling me forward.
The trees thinned at last, breaking open into a meadow awash with yellow flowers, a sunlit clearing cradled by ancient trunks. I stepped forward slowly, as though intruding upon something sacred, each breath catching on the stillness. Then I let myself fall into the flowers, their soft petals closing over meuntil I was hidden, face lifted to the fading sun as if to be blessed by its final light.
I used to do this with my father before he passed. Before the crown and the weight of expectation. He would take me riding into the castle woods, and when we found a clearing, we would sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun sink. He said that regardless of which faction you were, the nature would not recharge your magic, but it would recharge your spirit.
But here, now, with the light spilling across my skin, I felt the loosening, the ache turning soft. For a moment, I could almost imagine him beside me again, quiet, steady, watching the sky burn itself out.
I stayed until the shadows stretched long and the ache dulled, then finally turned back toward the trail.
That was when I heard them.
Sharp voices, cutting across the hush of the forest.