Professor Veyn’s voice carried across the room as he wrapped up the instructions for the assignment to include choosing a partner. I didn’t catch every word. His voice alone was enough to distract me. Low, smooth, the kind of voice that had once whispered things only for me. I could still hear it in the quiet of my memory. Still feel the weight of those late evenings, the softness of his hand on mine, the fire he once sparked with just a glance.

I shoved the thoughts aside before they could root. This wasn’t the time.

I turned toward Rielle. Of course my partner would be her. There was never another choice for me.

After losing Veyn two years ago, then Halven. Rielle was the one to keep me sane.

“Together?” I said.

She gave a single nod, already pulling her seat a little closer to mine.

“Let’s start with a young plant and see what we can do.” I eyed a baby flower sitting on the windowsill.

It was a small thing, pink-petaled and delicate, barely a bud, but perfect for this. I stood and reached for it, careful with the pot as I brought it back to our shared table.

“So,” Rielle said quietly, “what’s the plan?”

“I’ll coax the flower to grow. Simple growth spell.” I ran a finger along one of the leaves. “You’ll bend the sunlight around it. Wrap it in light. We focus on the same outcome. To make it grow faster.”

Her mouth twitched with the smallest hint of a smile. “I like it. So we concentrate on the same intent with coordinated steps.”

I nodded. “Right, just like Veyn said. Choreography.”

We settled in. The rest of the students faded as I turned inward. I closed my eyes and reached deep, down to the center of myself, where the memory of magic lived. Where my ancestors waited.

Their presence met me immediately, soft and warm like the rustle of wind through the forest, a gentle shushing of leaves. A few murmured in curiosity when I made my intentions clear.

What is this? one voice whispered. This is not just a Wood spell.

Another voice, more amused, added, We have never seen a binding of elements done before.

Good luck, child.

I smiled faintly, even as my focus sharpened. I didn’t need ancestral help for this spell. Coaxing a flower to grow was as basic as breathing, something every Wood Fae learned in early childhood. But I had wanted to hear them. To know what they thought.

I opened my eyes.

My hands glowed copper, veins of magic trailing like roots into the space between them and the flower. Across from me, Rielle’s hands shimmered with silvery white light, and her eyes were misted over with a pale fog.

We met each other’s gaze. A small nod. We were ready.

I whispered the spell, my voice little more than breath. I kept the intention of binding my magic to the natural element, the physical element itself, and to the magic signature of Rielle’s element.

The flower’s stem lengthened, the bud beginning to stretch. Slowly, steadily, the leaves widened, soaking in the first hints of warmth from the sunlight Rielle redirected.

I couldn’t see her spell. I could only feel the magic residue in the air, see the glow of her powers while she activated the spell.

Rielle’s directed sunlight curled fully around the flower.

It responded instantly.

The bloom burst open in a quick, elegant unfurling. The petals stretched outward like arms embracing the light. It glowed faintly, a shimmer of silver caught in its center.

We both leaned forward, breath held. My friend’s excitement spiked through the air like a pulse, and with it, the flower began to glow. Silver, bright, brilliant. For a heartbeat, it looked like something enchanted.

Then the glow flickered.

We both pulled back instinctively, releasing our magic. The flower dimmed, the silver light fading. But the bloom remained open, larger than it had been, its color more vibrant than before—more vibrant than the pink petals would normally be.

“You succeeded,” Veyn said, his voice close behind me.

I startled. I hadn’t heard him approach.

“You bound your magic. Two distinct elements. Shared intent. And the moment that intent shifted—” his eyes flicked to Rielle “—the spell collapsed.”

His presence at my shoulder spread heat through me. I didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. I felt it in my chest before I turned to see it.

Rielle ducked her head, clearly abashed. “I wanted to see what else it could do. I didn’t mean to shift the focus.”

He nodded. “But you did. And the outcome changed, briefly before disintegrating because Shara didn’t know this new intent. That is the nature of a binding. Intent is everything.”

I looked down at the flower again. It hadn’t reverted. It was still grown, still blooming. The change was real. Lasting.

“So the magic leaves its mark,” I said aloud, more to myself than to him.

Veyn’s gaze met mine. “Yes.”

The warmth in his eyes stirred something deep in my chest. Longing. Longing for everything we once shared. Longing to feel his arms around me. I missed him. Missed what we had before everything changed. Before the silence, before the distance, before The Seal.

The Seal.

The memory rose unbidden. The chamber beneath the library. The ice, Halven, the threads of magic we had each felt. Including Veyn’s.

Veyn’s magic existed in the prison that held Halven. Tangled in Lady Isa’s. I hadn’t understood it then, still didn’t fully. But now I knew what binding felt like.

And if that was what it had been, I couldn’t help the question that haunted me.

What was the intent?

I looked away, the warmth between us fraying at the edges. Something cold crept in. I didn’t want to believe he had a hand in that.

I looked back up at him, hiding my thoughts and feelings from him. Now my intent was to find out what he’d done to Halven, even if that meant seducing my once lover.