Chapter 176
The air was different today—charged, like the moments before a thunderstorm. I could feel it in the way the wind twisted through the courtyard, in the way Jeremiah’s eyes avoided mine during morning drills, and how his commands came colder than usual.
He hadn’t said more than a handful of words to me in three days.
“Again,” he barked to the group, ignoring the sweat dripping down our brows. His eyes skipped over mine like I didn’t exist, or worse, like I’d disappointed him somehow. The kiss—our kiss—lingered in my thoughts, and yet he acted like it never happened.
Anna nudged me. “Someone woke up extra cranky today.”
I forced a laugh. “Must be the weather.”
But my heart wasn’t in it. That night at the springs still haunted me—his hands gripping my thighs, the possessive fire in his eyes, the way his voice rumbled with things he never dared say aloud. And then, just like that, he vanished again, slipping into the shadows like we were strangers. Again.
Later that afternoon, I headed to the political strategy wing for our group session. To my relief—and growing curiosity—Alex was already seated, poring over a thick dossier with an intensity that made him look older than he was.
“Is that for the joint council simulation?” I asked, settling beside him.
He nodded. “I’m trying to map out the best way to destabilize a neighboring alliance through resource trade disruption. It’s hypothetical… for now.”
“For now,” I repeated with a smirk. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”
He didn’t look up. “You learn a lot when you're expected to outthink everyone before you’re old enough to vote.”
That cryptic answer hung between us like fog.
“So… you’re royalty or something?” I teased lightly, but I watched him closely.
Alex finally glanced at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not quite. But I’m familiar with expectations. My father… let’s just say his influence stretches far.”
He wouldn’t say more. Every time I thought I had a grip on who Alex was, he slipped through my fingers. His calculated charm, his sharp mind, and the weight he carried in silence all pointed to a past shaped in fire and discipline. Just like Jeremiah’s—but different.
We worked together the rest of the hour, and I couldn't deny how well we clicked. Where I was instinctual and bold, Alex was methodical and precise. We filled each other’s gaps like pieces of a puzzle.
As we wrapped up, Alex leaned back and stretched. “You’re not just good with strategy. You’re unpredictable. That’s dangerous.”
“Thanks,” I said, raising a brow. “I think.”
He chuckled, but then added, “It’s a compliment. Most people are easy to read. You… not so much.”
Our eyes held for a second too long before Anna burst into the room, snapping the moment apart.
“There you are! We’ve got fifteen minutes before curfew. Want to go to the clearing for a quick run-through?” she asked, her eyes darting between us like she could read the tension.
“Sure,” I said, standing, though my thoughts were already scattered.
We didn’t end up training. Instead, we sat under the canopy of stars in our little grove where I usually practiced alone. I hesitated only a moment before calling the energy to my palms—small threads of light twisting in my fingers like smoke. I wove the elements with careful precision, letting it dance.
Anna let out a soft gasp. “It’s beautiful, Astrid.”
“I’ve been hiding it my whole life,” I whispered. “People fear what they don’t understand.”
“But I’m not afraid,” she said, her voice firm. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Something about that moment broke something in me—in the best way. I felt lighter, freer. Anna had become the sister I’d never had, grounding me with her fierce loyalty.
But the storm I’d felt that morning hadn’t passed. It had just circled closer.
The next day, Jeremiah showed up again—just as we filed into the dining hall. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on me, it wasn’t warmth I saw. It was that same dark fire.
I looked away, heat rushing to my face.
“Astrid,” he called.
I froze. The others turned too.
“Can I speak with you. Outside.”
I followed him into the quiet hallway, my heart thudding like a war drum.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, voice low, unreadable.
“I didn’t know I had to report to you every hour,” I snapped, too fast, too defensive.
His jaw clenched. “Is that what you think this is about?”
I crossed my arms. “You’ve been avoiding me. After the springs… you vanished. Again. What do you want me to think?”
He stepped closer, and for a second I thought he might touch me. But his hands stayed clenched at his sides.
“You were flirting with him.”
My breath hitched. “With who? Alex?”
“You know damn well who,” he growled. “Do you think I can’t see the way he looks at you?”
“You have no right—”
“I have every right!” he snapped, eyes glowing. His wolf lurked just beneath the surface. “You’re mine.”
Silence fell like a blade.
“I didn’t say that,” he added quieter, like the words slipped out.
“You don’t get to disappear and then claim me like property when someone else shows me attention,” I said, my voice trembling with rage—and something else I didn’t want to name. “Figure out what you want, Jeremiah. Because I’m not waiting around for a ghost.”
Before he could reply, I turned and walked away.
The following week was a blur of sparring matches, strategy briefings, and stolen glances. Alex grew more open—but only slightly. One evening, as we stayed behind after a briefing, he traced a line on the map absentmindedly and murmured, “When I was ten, I was sent to train with the High Eastern Warlord’s second son. You learn to watch your back quickly in that world.”
“You were ten?” I echoed, horrified.
He nodded. “My father believed softness bred weakness. He intended to make me bulletproof.”
“And did he?”
Alex looked up, his eyes distant. “Not yet.”
I didn’t press him. I knew that look—the look of someone who carried scars too deep to show.
That night, back in the dorms, Anna and I whispered about everything—Jeremiah’s possessiveness, Alex’s secrets, the weight pressing down on all of us. The ambassador program was shifting. There was talk of a surprise evaluation, and Jeremiah had begun cracking down harder than ever.
“He looks at you like he’s barely holding it together,” Anna said, braiding her hair as we talked.
“He kissed me,” I admitted quietly.
Anna’s jaw dropped. “What?! When?”
“At the springs.”
“Okay, I take it back. You’re not living a coming-of-age story. You’re in a full-blown supernatural soap opera.”
I laughed, but it didn’t quite reach my chest.
Because even with Alex’s mystery and Jeremiah’s intensity, there was something building—something inevitable and dangerous.
And I was right in the middle of it.
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