The days before the second trial were far from quiet.
In hidden chambers and candlelit rooms across the academy, the heirs convened in whispers. The letters had been delivered — each one a mark of expectation, each one a binding chain. Eleven heirs, none willing to lose their footing before the next test.
Aerin Valmont sat at a long oak table, the firelight painting sharp angles across his face. His spear leaned against the wall beside him, its shadow longer than the man himself.
"They're not telling us what the second trial will be," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Which means it won't be simple combat. It'll test loyalty, resolve… perhaps even betrayal."
Across from him, his cousin from House Ka'tarel smirked. "And that bothers you? You're the heir, Aerin. You've been bred to triumph. What should a mere test matter?"
Aerin's jaw tightened. He said nothing, but his hand clenched the table's edge until the wood groaned.
Elsewhere, in the moonlit hall of House Verradine's wing, two siblings argued in hushed tones.
"If we don't seize this chance, Saphine Kaelith will rise," the brother hissed. "She's already awakened something in that fragment event. Can't you feel it? The pressure around her is different."
The sister's lips curled. "All the more reason to wait. Let her power bloom — then strike when the whole board is watching. No one respects a snake who bites too soon."
Their eyes gleamed as they toasted their wine. "Let her dance. And when the second trial ends, we'll tighten the leash."
And in the quiet garden behind the academy, a lone heir from House Drevan whispered with their shadow, a tall man whose face was hidden by a hood.
"Eris Vale," the heir murmured, their tone dripping with both curiosity and unease. "The Grand Gaze is not meant for fighting — yet he crushed Aerin and Meline together. What is he?"
The shadow gave no answer. But in the stillness, the heir thought they saw their guardian flinch.
By the time the third night came, rumors and suspicions had spread thick as fog. Every heir prepared, not for the trial itself, but for the knives that might be drawn before, during, or after.
Saphine Kaelith, meanwhile, was daydreaming.
She sat at her desk, chin propped on her hand, staring at the faint reflection in the glass. In her mind, the image kept shifting: the Eris she knew, with neat glasses and polite distance, slipping into the Eris she had seen beneath the mask — hair silver-white, eyes like constellations, the weight of centuries in his gaze.
Her cheeks flushed before she realized, and she shook her head hard enough to rattle her earrings. Focus, Saphine. The second trial… the letter…
Still, her thoughts betrayed her. Her heart thudded at the memory of his voice whispering, Then you'll have to endure me.
On the other side of the room, Eris leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with a faint, unreadable expression.
What on earth is going on in her head? he thought dryly, though the corner of his mouth curved as he began folding her clothes into a travel bag. Meticulous, efficient — the movements of someone who had done this countless times before.
By the time Saphine finally blinked herself back to the present, her bags were already packed neatly on the bed.
She blinked at him. "Did you just—?"
"Yes."
"I didn't even—"
"You were… busy." His tone was polite, but his eyes flicked with amusement.
Her ears burned. "Busy with what, exactly?"
He only shrugged.
Their carriage rolled into the Kaelith estate by dusk.
Saphine leaned against the window, staring up at the enormous spires of her family's mansion. Despite its grandeur — marble pillars, balconies carved with runes, a gate shimmering faintly with wards — the estate felt empty. The wide courtyards were silent. The windows glowed with only a few lights.
Only one figure stood at the entrance to receive them.
A woman in her late thirties, her posture sharp as a blade. The single maid of the Kaelith estate. She bowed deeply as Saphine stepped down, her eyes soft with genuine affection for her young mistress.
Then those same eyes turned to Eris.
The softness vanished.
Her gaze sharpened like a hawk's, raking across him from head to toe, as though stripping away every layer he wore. She stepped closer, voice polite but firm.
"Eris Vale, is it?" she asked, though her tone made it sound like an accusation.
He inclined his head slightly. "Yes, ma'am."
She didn't blink. Her voice softened for no one. "I've cared for Lady Saphine since she was a child. Her parents are never here, and this house is far too big for one girl to live in alone. I will not let anything—anyone—harm her. Not even her so-called shadow."
Eris's expression didn't change, though inwardly he wondered if he'd just gained a new adversary in the form of a maid.
"I understand," he replied calmly. "She's your world. That makes us alike."
Her eyes narrowed, weighing him. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then she nodded once, curt, before turning back to follow Saphine inside.
Only then did Eris allow the faintest smile to cross his lips. Protective. Good. She'll keep Saphine sharp.