I glanced toward Freya, silently begging the universe to reshuffle the names. No luck. She gave me an apologetic shrug.
I reluctantly moved to the corner where my group was gathering. Rory Chen, a slim boy with jet-black hair and a warm smile, waved me over. Marcus Devon, tall with sandy-blond hair, greeted me with an easy nod.
Lila Hudson, a petite girl with round glasses and a floral notebook, smiled shyly. "Hi, Maeve."
Then there was her.
Valeria Devereaux.
She was beautiful, of course. With high cheekbones, glossy dark hair, and a resting face that looked like it could cut glass. She didn't even glance at me. Instead, she sat with her arms crossed, her nails painted an expensive shade of black, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
I swallowed. "Hi. Nice to meet you all."
"Same here," Rory said, flashing a grin. "When should we meet to brainstorm?"
"Friday evening?" Marcus suggested.
"That works for me," Lila added, writing something down.
I nodded. "Friday's fine."
Valeria remained silent, her eyes flicking toward me like I wasn't worth acknowledging.
"Valeria?" Rory asked gently.
She tilted her head, giving him a look that said why are you talking to me? but didn't answer.
"Okay then…" Marcus muttered under his breath.
When class ended, I all but ran back to Freya. "Please tell me she's not always like that," I hissed.
Freya raised an eyebrow as we stepped out into the hallway. "Who, Valeria? Oh yeah. She's a walking thundercloud. Don't let it get to you."
"That's easy for you to say," I grumbled.
"Speaking of distractions," Freya said with a smirk, "you're coming with me. I want you to meet my dad."
I blinked. "Your dad?"
"Yeah." She hooked her arm through mine before I could protest. "He's in his office now. You'll love him. Or at least, you'll love how embarrassing he can be."
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. "If you insist. But if he starts showing me baby pictures of you, I'm out."
Freya gasped dramatically. "Oh, trust me, he will. It's like his favorite pastime. Consider yourself warned."
The walk to the faculty wing was surprisingly quiet. Most students were either at lunch or between classes, so the long hallways echoed with our footsteps.
We stopped at a dark wooden door with a brass plaque: Professor Callum Vance.
Freya knocked lightly and pushed it open without waiting for a response. "Dad?"
The man behind the desk looked up, his reading glasses perched low on his nose. He was in his late forties, with chestnut-brown hair streaked with gray and warm blue eyes that instantly reminded me of Freya's.
"Freya," he said with a soft smile. Then his gaze shifted to me. "And this must be your new roommate."
"Maeve Sinclair," I said quickly, trying not to fidget.
He stood, extending a hand. "Professor Callum Vance. Though you can call me Professor Vance, or just Callum when I'm not grading you." His handshake was firm, but kind.
"Dad, stop being weird," Freya groaned, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not being weird," he said, leaning back in his chair with an exaggeratedly innocent look. But then his sharp blue eyes locked on me with a strange, almost playful intensity, as though he was sizing me up.
"I'm being welcoming. It's not every day my daughter brings home someone who looks like they might actually survive Moonveil."
I laughed nervously, shifting under his gaze. "Uh… thanks?"
Freya groaned. "Dad, stop being creepy."
Professor Vance tilted his head slightly, a mischievous smile creeping over his face. "Would you like to see baby pictures of Freya? I have a whole album right here." He tapped the side drawer of his desk as if it were some kind of hidden weapon.
I froze for half a second, looked at Freya, and then we both burst into laughter.
~
By the time Friday evening rolled around, I was already questioning why group projects existed.
We settled on meeting in an empty lecture room on the west side of campus, a place so quiet it felt like it had been forgotten by the rest of Moonveil.
I walked in balancing my notebook and a strawberry smoothie I had grabbed on the way.
"Maeve, hey!" called Rory, one of the guys in my group. He was all black hair and an easy smile, leaning back in his chair like he didn't have a care in the world. Next to him, Lila, the friendlier of the two girls, waved at me while twirling her pen. She had this warm, girl-next-door vibe that made me instantly like her.
The rude one, Miss I'm-Too-Good-To-Speak, was, thankfully, nowhere in sight.
"Guess she bailed," Marcus said, grinning. "Not that I mind. Less drama."
I laughed, sliding into the seat across from him. "I'm not complaining either. So, where do we start?"
~
"You're actually really good at this," Rory said to me after we finished brainstorming. "Scholarship girl's got brains and game."
I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. "Don't call me that."
Rory held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But it's true."
I bit my lip, casting a shy glance at Lila and Marcus. Their faces seemed to agree with Rory.
"See you guys next week?" I asked as I packed my notes.
"Yep," Lila said. "Let's do Monday instead if that's fine with everyone. So we can finish on record time."
Rory flashed me a grin. "Don't get lost on your way back, Sinclair."
"Ha-ha," I muttered, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
It was just past 8:30, and the campus was almost eerily quiet. The sun had set completely, and the cold air bit at my cheeks as I scrolled through my phone, checking Ava's latest texts.
Ava:How's rich people school? Have you met a rich boyfriend?
Me:Not yet. I just finished discussing with my group members for a project.
I was smiling when I heard it.
At first, I thought it was just a couple of students lingering nearby. But the voices were too sharp, too rough.
"—you don't understand," one voice hissed, low and dangerous.
"Don't you start with me," the other growled.
I froze. My head turned instinctively toward the sound, which was coming from behind the east lecture hall.
I crept closer, heart pounding in my ears.
A flash of white hair caught the corner of my vision, and my stomach dropped. Lucian.
He was partially hidden in the shadows, but I'd know those sharp features and violet eyes anywhere. His face looked… different, like carved from marble and lit with anger.
The other guy, tall, broad-shouldered, stood with his back to me, his voice harsh and clipped.
"You think you can keep this up?"
"Try me," Lucian snapped.
The way he said it made my blood run cold. It wasn't the usual smug arrogance I'd seen on his face. This was darker. Meaner.
I stumbled back a step, and my phone slipped in my hand. It made the faintest clack sound, but it was enough.
Lucian's head turned.
Those violet eyes scanned the shadows like twin lasers.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I ducked, heart hammering, and scurried down the path like my shoes were on fire. I didn't look back until I was at the corner of the dorm building, and even then, I half-expected to see him standing there, watching me.
But the courtyard was empty.
I pressed a hand to my chest, gulping air.
That was definitely Lucian.
But… who was he arguing with?
And why did it feel like I'd just seen something I wasn't supposed to?