𝖡𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖱𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗌

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖥𝗂𝗏𝖾

I didn't get a wink of sleep. Not a single, blessed second.

How could I, after what I'd done? I hadn't just left the cottage. I'd let a stranger—a stranger I knew nothing about—hold me close, my hand in his, moving together like I'd never been taught to be afraid.  And worse, he'd seen it. Seen the flicker of magic I'd spent years hiding away like a curse.

I had no choice but to run off before things spun even further out of control.

By the Eclipse, what had I been thinking? Had I been thinking at all?

However, despite my reckless choices last night, I can't stop replaying that brief moment of freedom with him. With Icarus. Foolish, I know, but when we danced, it felt as though I'd slipped into another world, even if only for an instant. A place where I could forget who I was—and everything I was running from.

Luckily, no one suspected a thing. I was back inside the cottage in a matter of seconds and by the time my mother and Theodore came back, I was fast asleep. Or so they thought.

We had breakfast together this morning as they sung me happy birthday just like they do every year after the Starfall. But now I sit alone at the kitchen table, staring at a book Theo "borrowed" for me—a detail he insists on, though I'm fairly certain it's more stolen than loaned.

Classic Theo.

It's been almost two hours, though, and I haven't even flipped the page. Strange, for someone who can devour five books in a day without a thought. But my mind keeps circling back to him. Last night, the dancing, the closeness—it was a mistake. A grave one at that. And one I don't intend to repeat.

I wonder if he's thinking about me, the way I can't stop thinking about him. Though I doubt it—he was clearly a Primary, with that unmissable spark about him, that ease in his movements.

Primaries belong with Primaries; it's practically a law of nature. Same with Secondaries and Tertiaries, the people of the Boundary and those from the Fringe.

We're all marked, divided, and sorted by power and place, like we're pieces on a board.

That's how it's always been, and how it's supposed to stay. And yet, here I am, wondering if, for a moment, I broke the rules in a way that mattered.

Stop it.

I sigh, snapping the book shut. Reading isn't doing a thing to distract me, so I push it aside, reaching for a blank sheet of paper. Maybe writing will help settle the thoughts swirling through my mind, or at least drown them out for a while.

Just as I settle in, the front door slams open with a loud bang. My mother and Theodore rush inside, their faces pale and drawn, eyes wide with barely-contained panic. They don't even stop to catch their breath.

"Violet!" my mother gasps, voice trembling. "Why in the stars' name are the Keepers down at Fort Prelf, demanding you by name?"

Theodore's eyes are wild, darting to the door, to the window, anywhere but at me, as though he expects the soldiers to burst in any second. "And why, Violet, was it a direct order from the Prince of Elystria himself?" His gaze lands on mine, sharp and unyielding, demanding answers I'm not sure I even have.