The morning fog clung to the academy grounds like a shroud, curling around the black stone spires and creeping across the cobblestone paths. Aria stood at the edge of the training field, the cold biting at her cheeks, waiting for the rest of the students to gather.
She wasn't aware that, in the shadow of the upper balcony overlooking the grounds, Headmistress Celene was already watching.
From her vantage point, Celene's sharp, ageless eyes tracked every movement—though her focus was not on the crowd of young wolves, but on a single tall figure standing apart. Kieran Thorne.
The Alpha's posture was as composed as ever—arms crossed, gaze fixed on the trainees below—but Celene noticed the flicker of his attention every time Aria shifted. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet she caught it each time.
Celene's lips pressed into a thin line.
Kieran didn't notice her approach until she stepped into the sunlight at his side.
"Alpha Thorne," she greeted, her tone smooth but laced with quiet authority.
"Headmistress." He gave a slight nod, though his gaze stayed on the field.
Her eyes followed his line of sight—straight to Aria Nightshade, who stood quietly, shoulders drawn in, as if trying to shrink into the background.
Celene's voice lowered, each word precise. "You've been spending… more time than necessary with one of our more vulnerable students."
Kieran's jaw flexed. "She's in my class. I train her as I do the others."
"You and I both know that isn't true," Celene replied evenly. "You've kept her after sessions. Private instruction. The rest of the faculty is beginning to notice."
His silver gaze slid to her. "Is that a problem?"
Celene's answering look was sharp enough to cut. "She's not like the others. She hasn't shifted. She's voiceless. She has no political alliances. That combination makes her dangerous—if not for what she is, then for what others will assume she is."
Kieran didn't answer, but his stillness was telling.
Celene stepped closer, lowering her voice until only he could hear. "I know your nature, Kieran. You protect what's yours. But she is not yours to protect. And if you continue, you will put both her life and your position here at risk."
For a moment, neither spoke. The shouts of trainees echoed distantly across the field, the clatter of practice weapons a faint backdrop to the quiet battle of wills above.
Finally, Kieran said, "I don't take orders from my students."
"This is not an order," Celene said, her voice like cool steel. "It's a warning. For both your sakes."
Her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer before she turned and swept back into the shadows of the balcony, her cloak billowing behind her.
Kieran's attention returned to the field—only now, his gaze was heavier, sharper, fixed entirely on Aria.
And down below, Aria felt it. She didn't know why the fine hairs on her arms stood on end or why her pulse quickened. But when she looked up, she caught a flash of silver in the sunlight, and her stomach tightened.
Somewhere deep inside, she sensed it—whatever was happening between them wasn't just dangerous.
It had already begun.
The rest of training passed in a blur for Aria. She noticed immediately that Kieran's instructions were shorter, colder.
No lingering glances. No circling her during drills to correct her stance.
Not even the briefest touch when she faltered.
It shouldn't have mattered—she told herself it didn't—but the absence of his attention was as loud as the silence she'd lived with her whole life.
When her blade slipped in her grip during a spar, she caught the faintest twitch in his expression, as though he was forcing himself to stay still. Normally, he would have stepped in, adjusted her hands, and fixed her posture.
Now, he simply said, "Fix your form," before moving on to the next student.
By the time the session ended, a knot had formed in her chest.
She gathered her things slowly, hoping he might call her over for the private training he sometimes insisted on. But he didn't. The moment the final whistle blew, Kieran turned his back and began speaking to another instructor.
Aria swallowed against the sudden sting in her throat.
She was used to being ignored, but with him, it felt… different.
The walk back to her dormitory felt longer than usual. Students laughed in small groups around her, discussing their training victories and failures. She kept her gaze on the ground, trying to ignore the strange heaviness that had settled inside her.
Above, in the Headmistress's study
Celene poured herself a cup of tea, watching from her high window as Kieran strode off the training field without so much as glancing back at the girl. A small, satisfied smile touched her lips.
She had seen the way his eyes softened when he looked at Aria, the way his entire presence shifted. That was a dangerous thing for a man like him. The academy was not a place for tenderness—it was a place for strategy, power, and survival.
Still… There was something about the girl that unsettled her.
Celene set down her cup. If Kieran was wise, he would listen to her warning. If he wasn't, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
Later that evening
Aria sat on the window ledge in her small dorm room, knees drawn to her chest, sketchbook open but untouched. The moonlight spilled across the pages, pale and cold, and she let her thoughts wander.
Why did his sudden distance bother her so much?
She'd only known him for a short time.
He was her instructor—nothing more.
Her fingers tightened around her pencil.
But the truth was, she'd felt… safe with him. In a way she hadn't felt with anyone in years.
Now, that fragile connection felt like it was slipping away.
A light knock broke her thoughts. She turned to see one of the younger trainees, a shy boy named Theo, peeking into her room.
"You dropped this during training," he said, holding out a small leather strap—part of the binding for her wrist guard.
She smiled faintly in thanks, taking it from him.
"Oh, and…" He hesitated, shifting his weight. "I think Alpha Thorne was looking for you earlier. Not sure why."
Her heart stuttered, but before she could sign a question, Theo had already hurried off down the hall.
Training field – empty, moonlit
When she arrived, the field was deserted except for one figure.
Kieran stood near the far end, his back to her, the silver streak in his dark hair catching the moonlight.
For a moment, she almost turned and left—afraid of what his coldness earlier might mean. But something in the set of his shoulders made her take a tentative step forward.
He must have heard her, because he spoke without turning.
"You shouldn't be here this late."
She froze, clutching the leather strap in her hand.
"Go back to your dorm, Nightshade," he said, voice even, but… tired.
She took another step, signing quickly. Did I do something wrong?
Kieran finally turned, and the look in his eyes nearly stopped her breath. There was no anger there—only a shadow of something she couldn't name.
"No," he said quietly. "You didn't."
Then he stepped past her without another word, leaving her standing alone on the empty field, the night air cold against her skin.