Page 48 of Of Shadow and Moon

I search desperately for an excuse, a way out, but one look at Nasarea’s determined expression tells me resistance is futile. I sigh, resigning myself to my fate. “I…I need a cardigan,” I whisper softly.

Nasarea’s eyes sharpen before really looking me over. I see the moment it clicks for her. She gasps and I square my shoulders ready for the attack. I don’t hate my scars. I know they are a testament to what I have been through, what I have endured. I feel this friendship already slipping from my grasp, realizing I wanted this more than I realized.

Nasarea squares her shoulders before leaving the bathroom. Fuck. I’ve ruined this.

Before I can drown in the pity party I’m throwing myself in my head, she pops her head back in with a huge grin. “I even have a black sweater,” she says, her eyes soft. “One day, we will be close enough where you feel comfortable telling me what happened, but until then, let’s finally have some fun.”

I let out a small laugh, “Alright. Let’s go talk to people.” I try to hide the disgust on my face of having to mingle. “But I’m wearing my fishnets and black heeled boots.”

She scoffs, but concedes with a shrug. “Fine. But you’re going to be the hottest one there, and you’re going to thank me later.”

I highly doubt that. But as I catch my reflection one last time, I can’t help but feel something I haven’t felt in a long time—confidence. Even if it’s just a little, it’s enough to push me outthe door.

The night wrapsaround us as Nasarea and I step off the cobblestone path, heading toward the outskirts of campus where the bonfire's glow soars high, just beyond the line of trees. The campus fades behind us, replaced by the haunting whisper of the Dark Forest nearby. The scent of pine and woodsmoke mixes with the distant hum of laughter and music, pulling us forward.

Nasarea strides ahead, her steps confident, as if she’s the one leading us into this world of chaos. I, on the other hand, feel a prickling unease. Her dress is very similar to mine, but it’s a bright blue, to match her eyes, paired with black high heels that make her almost a foot taller than me. Her black curls fall effortlessly down her back. Her gold piercings and jewelry are on full display.

I don’t belong here, among the dancing lights and careless revelry. But I came anyway, because of her. Because she asked.

Ugh. Maybe I’m not actually cut out for this friend thing. I let out a deep sigh and stay close to Nasarea’s side. We look at each other and she gives me a soft nod that I return.

The party sprawls out like a painting come to life. The bonfire roars at the center, flames licking skyward, casting a golden light on clusters of people. Laughter ripples through the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of shouted conversation. Groups form their own territories: some lounging on blankets, others hovering around coolers filled with drinks. The shadows of the forest press in close, a reminder that not everything here is as carefree as it seems.

Where, on campus, Tonalacas stick to mostly their own, it seems parties lighten up the rivalry of species. I see witches dancing with naguals, vampires hanging all over demonios, and fae laughing with everyone.

As we step into the firelight, I feel them. The princes.

All five of them are here, scattered among the students, each commanding attention in their own way. Nazriel, of course, draws my eye first. He’s standing near the bonfire, Evaline practically draped over him, her laughter too loud, too shrill. He leans back against a log, his expression neutral, but the way she clings to him like a vine makes me roll my eyes.

“Of course she’s here,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Nasarea turns back, arching an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

She shrugs and peels off toward the drink table, leaving me standing at the edge of the crowd. It’s then I feel it—the weight ofallof their gazes. Like a physical touch, it sweeps over me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Nazriel’s dark, piercing eyes lift from Evaline and lock onto mine. There’s no warmth in them, just the sharp intensity I’ve come to expect. A challenge. A dare.

Tomas leans against a nearby tree, drink in hand, his lips curling into a sly smile as his red eyes rake over me. He tilts his head slightly, as if appraising a puzzle he’s eager to solve. Girls surround him, laughing and caressing his arms.

Kaelion, shadowed and brooding, lounges near the edge of the forest. His tattoos shift, alive with magic, and his gaze lingers on me like a question he already knows the answer to.

Matheus is standing on the other side, near the forest. He’s sipping from a canteen. His eyes staring right through me.

And then there’s Rhyker. His stare is the heaviest of all, bright green eyes glinting with something wild, something primal. He doesn’t hide his interest, like Tomas. It’s writtenin the way his lips curve, the way his head tilts, daring me to look away first.

My skin prickles under their collective scrutiny, heat rising in my cheeks despite the cool night air. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t feel anything at all. But the weight of their attention settles like a brand.

Nasarea returns, shoving a drink into my hand, breaking the spell.

“Here,” she says, grinning. “You look like you need it.”

I take a sip, the alcohol burning a path down my throat, and let it steady me. I really shouldn’t be drinking, I should be alert. Especially so soon after Etzli’s revelation of knowing who I am. But gods, I am desperate for just one night of normalcy of being a student attending Obsidian Academy.

The music shifts, louder now, pulsing with a beat that vibrates through the ground. A band plays near the fire, but not too close to where it is uncomfortable for them. Two guys approach us, grinning like they’ve just won the lottery.

“Dance with us,” one of them says, his voice slurred from too much beer.

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