Chapter 7: Pack Doesn't Lie

Author's Preface

The Shifting Grounds were supposed to help Tessa prepare for fighting Zoran without accidentally proving Professor Flint right.

Apparently, the rest of Night Moonveil had decided to make that difficult. She had barely crossed the warded gate when two students near the equipment racks looked at her, stopped talking, then looked away with all the subtlety of people trying very hard not to stare.

Wonderful.

Agatha fell into step beside her. “You’re famous.”

“I’ve been here less than a week.”

“Efficient, isn’t it?”

Tessa gave her a flat look.

Agatha lowered her voice. “People heard about the gala. And Flint pairing you with Ashencroft didn’t exactly calm things down.”

So that explained the staring. Tessa had planned to spend the session learning exactly how mediocre Theo needed to look during the duel. Competent enough to belong at Moonveil. Inexperienced enough that Flint would stop noticing how quickly Theo corrected himself.

Anonymity had already died without consulting her.

An instructor called Agatha toward another group. She gave Tessa a sympathetic look and peeled away just as a voice came from her left.

“You’re Monroe.”

The man heading toward her looked built for competition—solid, restless, and far too pleased to have found something interesting.

Gideon Blackwood. Of course. Another heir.

“I was considering changing my name,” Tessa said.

Gideon grinned. “Too late. You annoyed Ashencroft, confused Tideborne, and somehow earned a duel. I wanted to see if you were actually interesting.”

“Disappointing strangers is one of my better skills.”

Gideon laughed, but the instructor’s call cut through the conversation, directing everyone toward the tracking lanes farther into the Shifting Grounds.

Students spread out across the field, each group taking a lane divided by wooden screens, low barriers, and patches of trees meant to hide the targets. Tessa headed for the nearest lane with Gideon beside her.

Halfway there, he stopped smiling. His head tilted slightly, and his attention sharpened as though he had noticed something he couldn’t quite place.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Clearly a lie. Before she could press him, the instructor signaled the start of the first drill. A concealed target began moving behind the wooden screens. Their job was simple: follow the magical marker and predict where the target would appear.

Tessa heard a step behind the left screen—too sharp, too clear, as though the wood had done nothing to muffle it. She turned before the marker flashed. A heartbeat later, the target appeared exactly where she was looking.

That had been luck. It had to be.

The second target moved along the far side of the lane. This time, Tessa forced herself to wait for the magical cue. A branch flexed behind the barrier. She heard it. Before the marker could point them toward the movement, Tessa turned again.

Beside her, Gideon went still.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

His eyes narrowed. “Twice?”

Tessa kept her attention on the lane. “Very lucky.”

Except she had not cast anything. And luck had never sounded that much like hearing.

Tessa spent the next drill trying very hard not to hear anything extraordinary. Naturally, that made her notice everything.

Boots scraped over gravel, and leaves shifted beyond the lanes. Someone three stations over muttered a curse when a decoy doubled back. None of it should have felt unusual, which only made that impossible hearing more irritating.

Gideon glanced at her. “You’re thinking too hard for someone standing still.”

“Only when it expects participation.”

“That explains the enthusiasm.”

The next exercise required them to predict which route a moving marker would take through changing barriers. Gideon chose the fastest path. Tessa chose the one that made his useless. He reached the final turn and found her already beside the marker.

She smiled. “Lucky guess.”

Gideon laughed. “I’m starting to hate that phrase.”

“You’re smiling too much for me to believe you.”

They reset with the group. Tessa kept her attention on what she could see, refusing to chase sounds through the trees. Gideon tried to bait her into another race.

She beat him by waiting instead. Patience was apparently devastating to men who considered competition a personality trait.

When the instructor called the round, Gideon bumped her once on the upper arm as he passed. “You’re annoying.”

“You approached me.”

“Worst decision I’ve made all night.”

He was still grinning. Gideon Blackwood was supposed to be another complication. Another heir with instincts that noticed too much and questions she could not safely answer. Instead, he was funny, took losing better than most people took compliments, and somehow made competing with him easy.

Unfortunately, she liked him.

Then the prickling sensation of being watched pulled her attention toward the adjacent lane. Zoran was resetting for another run with his group. He should have been watching the course, but he was watching her. Or possibly Gideon.

Wonderful. Her dragon-shaped surveillance problem had survived the gala.

Their eyes met for barely a second. Zoran did not approach or interrupt. He only gave her that infuriatingly thoughtful look he wore whenever Theo did something that refused to fit inside his expectations.

Then he returned to his training and Tessa did the same. Gideon was already waiting at the next marker as though he had assumed she would follow.

Stranger still, some part of her had assumed it too.

By the time the instructor dismissed them, Tessa had avoided doing anything else impossible. That should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. She still heard too much whenever she stopped fighting it. Nothing dramatic—just enough to keep reminding her that something had changed.

“You hungry?” Gideon asked.

“Is that another assessment?”

“No. I’m inviting you to eat.”

“That seems suspiciously friendly.”

“I can insult you during dinner if it helps.”

He slung a training strap over one shoulder. “Come to Blackwood residence one night. I cook.”

Tessa stared at him.

Gideon looked offended. “Why is that surprising?”

“You have the energy of someone who considers fire a seasoning.”

“That is deeply insulting.”

“So you don’t?”

He considered it. “Not exclusively.”

She laughed before she could stop herself.

The invitation should have been easy to accept. Food. Conversation. A kitchen that smelled like actual dinner, voices that didn’t make her measure every word. One evening where nobody expected Theo to uncover a conspiracy, survive a duel, or explain why she could suddenly hear things she shouldn’t.

Then survival caught up with her. An unfamiliar residence meant unfamiliar wards, unfamiliar people, and too many chances to lose track of time. Mirrorroot would not care whether she was having fun when midnight arrived.

“Another night,” she said.

Gideon’s smile dipped, oddly disappointed for someone who had known Theo for one training session.

“Fine. But I’m remembering that.”

Tessa started toward the path back to campus.

“Monroe.”

She turned. Gideon was no longer smiling.

“Have we met before?”

Her stomach tightened. “Pretty sure I’d remember.”

“Yeah. So would I.”

“Then mystery solved.”

“My wolf disagrees.”

Tessa went still. Of course. Everyone’s supernatural instincts had formed a committee.