The fireplace in Alexander's office cast shifting amber light across the stone walls, but the warmth it offered couldn't quite reach the tension in the room.
Evelyn sat beside Alexander now, not across from him—not separated by space or pride or fear. They were side by side, and neither had spoken in several minutes.
But they were thinking the same thing.
"This sigil," Evelyn murmured, her fingertip brushing the parchment again, "you said your family crossed paths with them. Did they try to manipulate the Valerius bloodline?"
Alexander nodded once. "They tried. But my father saw them for what they were—leeches. Whispering poison into the ears of old houses. Trying to mold heirs into weapons. When that didn't work… they vanished. Or so we thought."
Evelyn's voice was quiet. "And now they're after me."
"They're after your potential," he corrected. "Your strength. Your reputation. If they can break you, they send a message."
Her jaw tensed. "They won't break me."
"I know." His tone made it sound like a certainty, not a compliment.
A flicker of something unspoken passed between them.
Evelyn rose, pacing lightly across the room. "What do we do now?"
Alexander stood too, reaching for a worn leather-bound book and flipping it open to a marked page. "We start tracing. The sigil. The letters. The timing. We match it to known activity in the region."
"And the Academy?"
He looked at her, hesitant. "We can't trust everyone. There are too many whispers. Too many shadows."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "We need someone we can trust."
He nodded slowly. "There is one."
A moment passed before the door creaked softly—and Caelan stepped inside.
Evelyn blinked. "Caelan?"
He smiled easily. "Hope I'm not interrupting."
Alexander's expression sharpened instantly. Not quite hostile, but alert.
Evelyn stepped forward. "You knew something, didn't you?"
Caelan gave a slight shrug. "Not enough to act alone. But enough to know you'd need someone eventually who isn't tied to your family. Or his."
Alexander didn't speak, but his presence filled the room with cool silence.
"I want to help," Caelan said, looking only at Evelyn. "Not because of whatever this is"—his hand gestured vaguely between her and Alexander—"but because I won't let them hurt you."
That got a reaction.
Alexander's hand closed around the back of the chair. Quiet. Still. But unmistakably tense.
Evelyn, meanwhile, studied Caelan with thoughtful eyes. He wasn't lying. He'd never been one to waste charm on half-truths.
She nodded once. "We'll need your help."
Alexander's jaw ticked. "That depends."
"On what?" Caelan asked, half-smiling.
"On whether you follow her lead," Alexander said smoothly, "or try to take it."
Caelan smirked, but there was steel behind it. "You worried I'll do a better job than you?"
Evelyn stepped between them before the temperature dropped any further.
"Enough," she said. "This isn't about who gets to protect me. It's about stopping whoever's trying to destroy everything I've worked for."
Both men looked at her.
Both backed down.
But Evelyn felt the shift. A new tension—not dangerous, not yet—but one that might grow into something deeper.
She didn't have time to sort through the pieces of it.
Not yet.
Because the next move… was hers.