Adrian strode through the academy’s grand hallways, his boots echoing against the cold stone. The glow beneath the twins’ rug haunted his thoughts, a mystery he couldn’t ignore. The pieces weren’t fitting together—Lyra’s evasive behavior, Eryon’s bursts of unnatural strength, and now this. Adrian clenched his fists, the frustration gnawing at him.
Misery caught him as he neared the stairwell, her presence as sharp and imposing as ever. “Adrian,” she called, her tone laced with urgency. “We need to talk.”
He stopped and turned, his crimson eyes narrowing as she approached. “What is it, Misery?” he asked curtly.
Misery didn’t flinch at his cold tone. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him with her usual mix of amusement and calculation. “You’re too close to this,” she said bluntly.
Adrian stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What are you talking about?”
She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze locking onto his. “You’re letting your feelings for Lyra cloud your judgment,” she said, her voice steady but edged with steel. “If they’re hiding something—and we both know they are—you’re not going to find it by hovering over them like a lovesick fool.”
Adrian’s expression darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “I’m doing what needs to be done,” he snapped.
Misery raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his defensiveness. “Are you?” she countered. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re hesitating. And hesitation will get you killed.”
Her words struck a nerve, but Adrian refused to let it show. “And what would you suggest?” he asked, his voice cold. “Leaving them alone so they can finish whatever they’re planning?”
Misery let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t be dense, Adrian. You know better than that. I’m saying you need to stop acting like a lovestruck idiot and start thinking like the King’s son.”
Adrian’s fists clenched at her words, but he didn’t deny them. Instead, he fixed her with a piercing stare. “And what about you, Misery? You’ve been awfully interested in Eryon lately. Care to explain why?”
For a brief moment, Misery’s smirk faltered, her sharp edges softening. But then she stepped closer, her gaze hardening as she tilted her chin defiantly. “Don’t try to turn this around on me,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m not the one letting my emotions get in the way of my duty.”
The tension between them crackled like a live wire, neither willing to back down. Misery’s eyes gleamed with challenge, while Adrian’s jaw tightened with barely suppressed frustration.
Finally, Misery sighed, stepping back with a shake of her head. “Do what you want,” she said, her voice dismissive. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when this all blows up in your face.”
Adrian watched her go, her sharp figure disappearing down the corridor. His mind churned, torn between the weight of his duty to the King and the pull he felt toward Lyra.
Misery, meanwhile, lingered in the shadows for a moment, her expression unreadable. Adrian wasn’t the only one whose emotions were complicating things. Her own growing connection to Eryon was becoming a problem, a vulnerability she couldn’t afford.
“You’re not the only one who can play this game,” she muttered under her breath, her resolve hardening. If Adrian was too blinded by Lyra to see the truth, then she would find it herself.
The stakes were too high for anyone to falter now.
