After the lesson with Mnemonic, Clairesat outside of the office, reflecting on the story of Ardentia. The rest of the lesson had covered the aftermath of Ardentia's actions, the fractured alliances, and the lessons learned from her bold decision. But Claire’s mind kept drifting back to the idea of not holding back from what you truly want.

  She needed to process it. But that would have to wait. Lunch was calling.

  Claire headed toward the cafeteria, a bustling hub of students, all going about their day, filling trays with food, and chatting with friends. Claire grabbed a pizza and salad and made her way outside to the courtyard.

  The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the stone benches and quiet paths. But despite the pleasant setting, Claire’s mood soured as she sat down and took a bite of the food. It was... disappointing. She found herself poking at it rather than eating. She should have asked Hierarch’s staff to make her something instead.

  She let out a small sigh, her thoughts returning to the lesson and to Ardentia's daring rescue mission. Maybe life could be more like that—unpredictable, messy, passionate. But here she was, sitting in the courtyard, trying to stomach a terrible lunch. It all felt so... ordinary.

  “You gonna eat that?” a voice suddenly asked from above her.

  Claire glanced up, her eyes meeting a friendly grin from a male student standing beside her. He had dark skin and short, curly hair with a confident posture and an amused look in his eyes.

  “You can have it,” she muttered, pushing the tray away slightly.

  The boy chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bench next to her, pulling out his own lunch, a sandwich wrapped in foil. “Nice, thanks,” he said. He unwrapped his sandwich then took Claire’s unwanted pizza in his other hand.

  Claire gave him a side-eye but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

  “You’re really hungry, huh?”

  “Gotta eat up for the game,” he said between bites. “We’re playing the Currents tonight. You should come watch.”

  "Oh, thanks," Claire said. “But I have plans with my sister.”

  “Oh well, maybe next time,” he said with a shrug. He grinned, setting his sandwich down and turning to face her more fully. "You know," he said, eyes lighting up as if an idea had just struck him, "you remind me of a Wonderworld character."

  Claire raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

  “It’s a fighting game with a bunch of crossover characters. There’s this elf princess, Linvala. She’s like, cute and little, but also totally broken.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Claire blinked. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. Fighting games weren’t her favorite genre, she moreso preferred roleplaying games.

  “You’re welcome.” He stood up and offered a fist bump. “Marcus, by the way.”

  Claire tentatively raised her own fist to return the gesture. When their fists met, a golden spark of energy flowed from Marcus into her. Claire quickly brought her hand back, looking down to her pale knuckles, which now felt strangely warm.

  “See ya later.”

  With that, Marcus gave her a quick wave and walked off toward the courtyard exit, leaving Claire to stare after him, feeling oddly lighter than she had before.

  She wasn’t sure why it had felt so different from most interactions. The boy had called her Linvala, short and sweet, but also extremely powerful. For some reason, that simple comparison stuck with her. She couldn't remember the last time someone had seen her that way, or maybe it was the novelty of being seen for something other than the usual rich-girl persona.

  Her quiet reverie was interrupted by Trevor, walking toward her with a purposeful stride. His face was as stern as ever as he pulled his phone away from his ear.

  "Claire," Trevor greeted. "Who were you talking to?"

  The young boy she had been speaking to was already gone, disappearing into the crowd of students, but Claire still felt the warmth lingering on her hand. She hadn’t noticed Trevor approaching, and his question caught her off guard for a moment.

  "Oh, just another student," Claire replied. "He said I reminded him of a character from his favorite game."

  Trevor looked her over for a moment longer, his gaze narrowing. Afterward, he nodded slightly. “Just be careful. You never know who might be trying to get too close.”

  "So, who were you talking to just now?" she asked, her tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

  A flicker of surprise crossed Trevor’s face. "None of your business," he said.

  Claire smirked. "Was it your secret girlfriend?"

  Trevor didn't seem fazed by her teasing, but the coldness in his eyes hardened a little. "It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with, Claire."

  The way Trevor had brushed her question aside only piqued her curiosity further. Who had given him that kiss mark? Why was he being so cagey about it? Was he also hiding something about the vault?

  Claire shook her head, dismissing the questions for now.

  Her thoughts shifted when she heard the familiar sound of a hovercar engine approaching. She glanced up and spotted Mr. Beasley’s black sedan pulling into the courtyard. The older man, with his signature warm smile, waved at Claire as he slowed the car to a stop beside her.

  "Miss Claire," he greeted, opening the door. "Ready to head back to the estate?"

  Claire nodded. "Yep, I’m good to go.”

  She turned to look back at the courtyard one last time before getting into the car. The car door clicked shut behind her, and Beasley climbed into the driver’s seat. Once Trevor was also inside, Beasley started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. As the car moved along the winding streets toward Hierarch’s estate, Claire leaned back in her seat, staring out the window. The city flashed by in a blur of tall buildings and flashing neon signs, but her mind wasn’t on the sights outside.

  "Everything alright, Miss Claire?" Mr. Beasley asked, his voice as steady and comforting.

  Claire gave a half-smile and nodded. "Yeah, just thinking. It’s... been a weird day."

  "Anything you’d like to talk about?" Beasley inquired, his eyes briefly meeting hers in the rearview mirror. He had a way of making her feel at ease, as though she could share anything with him.

  Claire hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk about anything honestly with Trevor also in the car. So, she simply shook her head, hoping to speak with Beasely alone sometime soon. "No… just school stuff."

  Beasley gave her an understanding nod, keeping his attention on the road. "Alright, Miss Claire. We’re almost there."

  The remainder of the ride passed in a comfortable silence. Claire’s mind wandered back to the image of the boy’s smile. There was something disarming about his easy confidence. But what really stuck with her was Trevor’s sharp gaze, his refusal to share even the smallest bit of information.

  Before she knew it, they had arrived at Hierarch’s estate. The sprawling mansion loomed before them, its darkened windows reflecting the evening light. Mr. Beasley parked the car, and with a polite nod, he stepped out and opened the door for her.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Claire stepped out as Trevor walked ahead toward the front entrance. The familiar grandeur of the estate had been restored with repairs, no sign remained of last night’s attack.

  Trevor opened the front door for Claire and Claire met his eyes briefly as she stepped into the grand entryway. His cold eyes contrasted with the familiar warmth of the home. He folded his arms and Claire was glad to see he was going to stand guard outside.

  The mansion was as pristine as ever, its marble floors gleaming beneath her feet. The soft hum of activity greeted her, servants moving through the halls, the scent of something rich and savory drifting from the kitchen.

  She paused in the foyer for a moment, taking in the atmosphere. There was a sense of calm here, one that she often sought out to escape the outside world. But tonight, she was excited to go out again.

  The service staff had already begun preparing dinner. She caught sight of a few servants moving to and fro, tending to the large stove, setting the table with polished silverware, and arranging a variety of dishes. The aroma of roasted vegetables and herbs filled the air, but Claire had her mind on something else.

  “Hey, can I have ice cream?” she asked the cook, leaning casually against the counter. “With cherries? And sprinkles?”

  The cook gave her a knowing smile. “Of course, Miss Claire. But don’t let me get in trouble for spoiling your dinner.”

  Claire grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll take all the blame.”

  As the cook turned to prepare her request, the kitchen door swung open, and Nina strode in. Her sharp gaze immediately landed on Claire. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, hands on her hips.

  Claire turned, unfazed. “Getting dessert. Why?”

  Nina frowned. “You know you shouldn’t have dessert before dinner.”

  Claire smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Daddy’s not home so…”

  Nina raised an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. “I just spoke to him. He’s on his way home right now.”

  Claire’s eyes widened, the mischievous smirk dropping from her face. “Really? You’re not just saying that, right?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise and excitement.

  Nina nodded. “Maybe think twice before breaking any more rules.”

  Claire hesitated as the cook returned and handed the ice cream to her. Then, with a burst of enthusiasm, she took a few quick licks before tossing the rest into the trash.

  Without another word, she darted out of the kitchen, leaving Nina shaking her head.

  Racing through the halls, Claire burst out onto the front steps just in time to see a sleek black car pulling up to the estate. Her heart raced with anticipation as she spotted the familiar silhouette inside.

  Claire bounced on her toes. Her curls bobbed with each movement as she craned her neck, trying to catch a better glimpse of the car. The moment the vehicle came to a halt, the driver stepped out, walking briskly to open the back door. Trevor stood at attention to the side of the entry, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the surroundings.

  The driver pulled open the door with the smooth precision Claire had come to expect. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Hierarch stepped out, his presence as commanding as ever. Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his sharp features betrayed little emotion.

  Claire felt the familiar urge to run to him, to throw her arms around his waist like she always did. But before she could take a step, Hierarch turned back to the car and extended his hand. A moment later, a woman stepped out, her movements fluid and graceful.

  Claire froze.

  The woman was striking, her dark hair falling in glossy waves which accented her olive skin. She wore a stark white dress that clung to her curves, her posture exuding both confidence and mystery. Her lips, painted a vivid red, curved into a subtle smile as she placed her hand delicately on Hierarch’s arm.

  Claire’s breath hitched. Who is she?

  Hierarch exchanged a few quiet words with the woman before turning his gaze toward the estate. His eyes briefly met Claire’s, and for the first time, she hesitated. Normally, she’d already be halfway to him, but the sight of the unfamiliar woman at his side made her pause.

  “Claire,” Hierarch called, his voice warm yet composed.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she managed, her voice louder than she intended. She stood rooted in place, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

  The woman’s eyes flicked to Claire, studying her with a faint, unreadable expression. Claire felt the weight of the woman’s gaze, her heart pounding in a way she didn’t fully understand.

  “Come here, baby,” Hierarch said, his tone inviting, but Claire didn’t move immediately. Her feet felt heavy, as if they were glued to the stone steps.

  Finally, she forced herself forward, her steps slower than usual. Her eyes kept darting to the woman at Hierarch’s side. When she reached him, she felt small under his steady gaze and the woman’s presence looming beside him.

  “Who’s she?” Claire blurted out, unable to keep the question to herself.

  Hierarch’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but his answer was calm, almost measured. “Claire, this is Lady Tarsotti. She’s a… friend of mine.”

  “Hello, Claire,” Lady Tarsotti said, her voice smooth and melodic, yet carrying an undercurrent of something Claire couldn’t place. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Claire blinked, unsure how to respond. Her usual impulses were stripped away, replaced by a mess of emotions she couldn’t untangle. She nodded quickly, mumbling a quiet “Hi,” before looking back at her father.

  Hierarch placed a hand on her shoulder, the familiar gesture grounding her slightly. “Let’s head inside,” he said, guiding both Claire and Lady Tarsotti toward the grand entrance.

  This wasn’t how Claire expected his homecoming to feel. She walked beside Hierarch as he went upstairs, awkwardly trying to stay an arms length away from Lady Tarsotti at the same time. She stole a glance at the mystery woman, who met her gaze with an almost predatory curiosity. A chill snaked down Claire’s neck and she quickly looked away.

  “Tell me, young lady, what do you value more, loyalty or ambition?” Lady Tarsotti asked, her voice velvety and alluring. She looked down at Claire, her sharp eyes like a cat that had cornered its prey.

  A knowing smirk played on her lips as if she were always privy to some grand secret. The question caught Claire off guard. Her steps faltered slightly, and she looked between Lady Tarsotti and Hierarch, unsure of what kind of answer was expected. She gave a small shrug.

  “Loyalty is better,” Claire said. After a moment she turned to Hierarch. “Right, Daddy?”

  The corners of Lady Tarsotti’s lips tilted upward in a sly smile. She chuckled softly, a sound that felt both approving and amused. Hierarch, too, let out a small laugh, though his was quieter and more controlled.

  “Yes, baby,” Hierarch agreed, but his tone was off.

  Claire made a face, unsure of both the meaning of the question and the validity of her answer. After all, even she was considering more ambition recently.

  As they continued walking, Claire remembered something that had been bugging her earlier. “Oh, by the way,” she said, glancing up at Hierarch. “Someone left the vault door open. I wasn’t sure if I should—”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Hierarch interrupted smoothly. His tone was reassuring, but there was an edge of finality that made it clear the matter was closed. “Nina already told me, and I’ve dealt with it.”

  Claire frowned slightly but nodded. Still, the vault wasn’t something she liked to think about being unsecured.

  They reached the second floor, and Hierarch led the way toward his office. When they arrived, he gestured for Lady Tarsotti to enter first, holding the door open with courtesy. Claire followed but stopped in the doorway, feeling out of place.

  Inside, the office was just as imposing as ever. A massive desk dominated the space, flanked by shelves filled with books and documents, and a globe sat in the corner, draped in low light. Hierarch and Lady Tarsotti moved to the desk, taking seats opposite one another.

  Claire lingered in the doorway, her curiosity still tugging at her. Whatever they were about to discuss likely wasn’t meant for her to hear.

  Heavy boots echoed down the hall. Turning, she spotted Roxanne approaching, with an edgy shaved hairstyle, dark punk outfit, and mischievous expression.

  “Ready?” Roxanne asked, stopping a few feet away and crossing her arms. Her piercing gaze swept over Claire before briefly flicking toward the office.

  “Do you two have something planned?” Hierarch’s voice drifted through the office, heavy with implication. He was still seated at his desk, though his sharp eyes had moved from Lady Tarsotti to the pair in the doorway.

  Claire hesitated, glancing between her father and Roxanne. She quickly realized that trying to avoid the question wouldn’t work. “I’m going out to the city with Gravegirl,” she said, her tone casual as she tried to brush off the potential tension.

  Hierarch’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Roxanne met his gaze head-on, her jaw tightening just enough for Claire to notice. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. It felt as though some invisible contest of wills was happening between them. Finally, Hierarch leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxing somewhat.

  “Take care of your sister.”

  Roxanne gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. “Always.”

  The tension in the air didn’t fade, but it shifted, becoming something quieter and less overt. Claire, caught in the middle, fidgeted slightly before Roxanne jerked her head toward the hall.

  “Come on,” Roxanne said, turning and walking away without waiting for a response.

  Claire glanced back at Hierarch, who had already returned his focus to Lady Tarsotti, as if nothing unusual had happened. She hurried after Roxanne, the echoes of their conversation lingering in her mind as they headed downstairs.