Page 41 of Of Shadow and Moon

Ican’t get Rhyker or Etzli out of my head. The events of last night replaying in an endless loop that keeps tightening around my thoughts. My mind refuses to settle. Rhyker’s steady voice, his hands anchoring me during my panic attack—it’s all too vivid, too raw.

The panic attack itself feels like a betrayal, a crack in the armor I’ve spent years perfecting. I haven’t lost control like that since I was twelve, and even then, I promised myself it would never happen again. But last night, all those walls came tumbling down, and Rhyker was there to see it. I feel weak, exposed, as if he’s seen too much, and I hate it. I hate he was there when I shattered, that he saw me at my most vulnerable.

And yet… there was something in the way he looked at me, something that felt like he wasn’t judging, wasn’t disgusted. It was terrifying and comforting all at once. But then his words—hisdeclaration—cut through the haze like a blade. He confessed to watching me, tostalkingme.

I should have been furious. Iwantedto be furious. Instead, all I could think about was how I’d suspected it forweeks, the way his presence lingered just out of sight, the way I’d catch his scent, a mix of leather and earth, on the wind when no one else was around. Embedded in my sheets when I woke up. But hearing him say it, the way his voice dipped with an almost obsessive fervor… it left me reeling.

I should be fucking pissed, right? But no. Of course, I get turned on by the unhinged prince.Again, like always, my vagina is a traitor.

Now, my mind is a chaotic mess with too many thoughts I can’t process. Maybe I need to try that root that all the Tonalacas smoke to get high. It’s said to help with anxiety and attention disorders, essentially slowing your brain to only think one thought at a time. I sigh at how relieving that sounds.

And Etzli? How in the gods' name did he know about me? Who was he working with? This entire situation has spiraled into chaos. And of course, Alexander will want answers. Answers I don’t have.

What am I supposed to say? “Oh yes, I fucked up again, and now someone knows my identity”? Not exactly the best plan. I need to come up with something, fast, before this blows up in my face.

The halls of the academy are eerily silent as I slip through the shadows, avoiding the well lit corridors. I’m grasping at anything I can uncover that can at least buy me some time.

I round the corner, my senses on high alert. The corridor is quiet, but there’s a soft murmur ahead, so low I would’ve missed it, if I was not searching for anything to help me and they’re urgent. My steps falter when I see them.

Nazriel and Nasarea.

His hand grips her arm, pulling her into an alcove just out of sight from the main hall. The urgency in his movements makes my pulse quicken. Flattening myself against the wall, I inch closer, straining to catch their conversation.

Nasarea’s usual icy composure is gone, replaced by something sharper, tenser. “What is it?” she demands, her voice low but laced with irritation.

Nazriel glances over his shoulder, his tone clipped and urgent. “We need to talk. It’s about Father’s orders.”

I stiffen, my breath catching.Father’s orders?My mind races, trying to piece together the obvious.

Nasarea folds her arms, her dark eyes narrowing. “What does he want now?”

Nazriel exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. The torchlight catches on his chiseled features, but there’s nothing soft about his expression. “Intel,” he mutters. “On a first year named Selestina.”

My stomach drops, the words landing like a physical blow.Intel on me?

Nasarea’s brow furrows, her voice rising slightly despite the confined space. “What kind of intel?”

“Anything,” Nazriel replies, his tone cold and pragmatic. “Her past, her abilities, her weaknesses. Father wants to know everything.”

I press myself harder against the wall, my mind reeling. Why would the mage king want to know about me?

Nasarea shifts, her posture stiffening. “And what about you? What has he tasked you with?”

Nazriel sighs, his frustration spilling over. “To keep an eye on her. But you need to stay hidden. No one can know you’re the princes of Atlacoya, and it needs to fucking stay that way. Quit picking fights. Keep your head down and quit pissingeveryone off.”

The weight of his words crashes down on me, almost stealing my breath.

Princess?My heart races, each beat louder than the last. Nasarea is the princess of Atlacoya? And Nazriel is her brother? The realization sends a shockwave through me, my mind scrambling to process what I’ve just learned. All these weeks of subtle hostility, the carefully guarded secrets. It all makes sense now.

Nasarea’s lips press into a thin line. “I want to be involved,” she says sharply. “I’m tired of hiding. I can do more than skulk around and relay information.”

“No,” Nazriel snaps, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You need to stay hidden. If anyone finds out who you are, it could unravel everything.”

She steps closer, her defiance palpable. “I’m sick of being treated like I’m fragile. I can help?—”

“Enough!” Nazriel interrupts, his tone fierce. “You know what’s at stake. Just do as you’re told, Nasarea.Please.” His eyes burn with a desperate intensity, silently begging her to hear him, to understand. It’s in that moment, like a sudden crack of thunder, that the realization slams into me. Every line of his body, every hint of emotion across his face—it all points to one truth: he would do anything, risk everything, to protect his sister. Well, twin sister, since they are both first years. It’s not just loyalty. It’s a feral, unyielding instinct, as if her safety is the only thing anchoring him to this world.

His words hang heavy in the air, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Nasarea glares at him, her jaw tight, but she doesn’t argue further. Nazriel turns abruptly, his boots echoing down the corridor as he stalks away, leaving her fuming in the alcove.

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