Morning felt colder than it should have.
Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the dread twisting tight in my stomach. Maybe it was the way the Academy suddenly felt hostile in places it used to feel big and impressive.
I stood in Horace's room, smoothing down the sleeves of my uniform for the fifth time, trying to ignore the shaking in my fingers.
Nine a.m. Headmaster Aldric Vane. Questions about Elliot.
Questions I wasn't ready for.
A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door.
"Elleanore?" Horace's voice was calm, but there was a tension under it he wasn't bothering to hide. "It's time."
I opened the door.
Horace was standing there in full uniform—jacket crisp, collar straight, hair neatly combed. He always looked put together, but today… there was something different. Something sharper. More controlled. Like he was preparing for a political battle.
Chandler hovered behind him in the living area, pacing like a caged animal.
"You don't have to go," Chandler muttered. "You can fake a migraine. Tell him you're sick. Tell him you're—"
Horace gave him a look. "The Headmaster isn't someone you avoid."
"He isn't someone you walk straight into either!" Chandler shot back.
Rowan leaned against the wall, sipping tea he absolutely did not get permission to have. "Relax. If Aldric wanted to expel her, he would've done it in the archives yesterday. This meeting is about something else."
I swallowed. "Something else like what?"
Rowan smirked. "That's what you're about to find out."
Chandler glared at him. "You're not helping."
Cassian stood near the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hadn't spoken much this morning, but his eyes kept flicking to me—checking if I was okay, or maybe trying to guess if I would fall apart.
I wasn't sure which.
Horace exhaled. Then he turned to me, voice softening.
"You don't have to speak unless you want to," he said. "I'll handle the Headmaster."
My chest tightened. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes," Horace said quietly, "I do."
Chandler muttered, "Lucky you."
Rowan cleared his throat dramatically. "Shall we? Before Aldric sends a search team?"
Horace ignored him and gently guided me toward the door.
As we left, Chandler called out:
"Elleanore—if anything feels wrong, call me. I don't care if you're mid-sentence. Just call."
I nodded.
Cassian added, "You don't have to trust him." He paused. "But trust yourself."
My breath caught at the unexpected softness.
Rowan waved lazily. "Good luck, princess."
Horace shot him a glare. "Do not call her that."
Rowan smirked. "Touchy."
And with that, we left.
The Walk to the Headmaster's Wing
The Academy halls were already full of students heading to class. Laughing, chatting, completely unaware that this morning felt like walking toward a noose.
Whispers followed us.
Two students nudged each other.
"Is that the scholarship girl with the Prince?"
"Why is she going to the administrative wing?"
"Is she in trouble?"
"Probably."
"Or maybe she's special—"
Horace slowed slightly.
"Stay close," he murmured.
I did.
Partly because I trusted him. Partly because the stares made my skin crawl.
When we reached the lift to the upper administration floors, a guard bowed deeply and cleared the way.
"Your Highness."
Horace nodded. "We have an appointment."
The guard's eyes flicked to me briefly. "Both of you?"
Horace's voice cooled. "Yes."
The guard swallowed. "Of course."
The lift doors closed.
Silence wrapped around us.
Horace looked straight ahead, hands clasped behind him.
"Are you afraid?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I whispered.
He didn't tell me not to be. He didn't tell me it would be fine.
He simply shifted closer—shoulder brushing mine ever so lightly.
"I'm here," he murmured.
It was enough to stop my knees from shaking.
Headmaster's Office
The lift opened to a long corridor lined with portraits of past Headmasters. Chandeliers glowed softly overhead. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and old books.
At the end of the hall stood a tall door marked with a gold plate:
HEADMASTER ALDRIC VANE
Horace opened it gently.
The office was larger than I expected—floor-to-ceiling shelves, an old desk made of dark wood, and wide windows overlooking the entire campus.
The Headmaster stood by those windows, back turned to us, hands folded behind him.
"Good morning," he said without turning. "Right on time."
Horace stepped in front of me, posture straight. "You asked to speak with Elleanore. You speak with me as well."
Aldric turned.
His eyes were sharp, assessing—cold in a way that didn't come from dislike, but from someone who played a long game.
"Very well," Aldric said. "Both of you may sit."
Horace refused the offer. "We'll stand."
Aldric smirked faintly. "As you wish."
I stayed behind Horace's right shoulder—visible, but protected.
Aldric clasped his hands.
"Miss Fonze," he began, "I would like to ask about your brother."
My heart twisted.
"Elleanore is still grieving," Horace said sharply.
Aldric nodded mildly. "Of course. And I will be sensitive."
He wasn't.
He looked straight at me.
"When was the last time you spoke to your brother before he disappeared?"
My throat closed.
I forced myself to answer. "A week before the semester started."
"Did he mention anything unusual? Any concerns?"
Yes. He did.
But I couldn't say that.
"I… I don't know," I whispered.
Aldric watched my face carefully.
"You don't know," he repeated, almost gently.
He stepped closer.
"Your brother," he continued, "was a remarkable student. Top of his class. Highly disciplined. Highly perceptive."
Elliot. Disciplined. Perceptive.
Aldric's gaze sharpened.
"Which means," he said slowly, "if something happened to him… it was not simple."
My breath hitched.
Horace stiffened beside me. "Headmaster—"
Aldric turned to him.
"Your Highness, you are here because I allowed it. But do not interrupt."
Horace's jaw locked.
The Headmaster looked back to me.
"Elleanore," he said softly, "your brother requested a meeting with me the day before he disappeared."
I froze.
Horace's head whipped toward him. "What?"
Aldric nodded.
"Yes. Elliot Fonze came to my office. He was nervous. Disturbed. He implied he had uncovered something concerning. Something he did not wish to say aloud."
"Why wasn't this reported earlier?" Horace demanded.
Aldric sighed. "Because I could not prove anything. Elliot refused to explain further."
My heart pounded.
"What did he say?" I whispered.
Aldric walked slowly to his desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out a small sealed envelope.
He held it between two fingers.
"He left this," Aldric said. "Addressed to you."
Time stopped.
To me?
Horace stepped forward. "What is that?"
"A letter," Aldric said. "I did not open it."
He paused.
"But I was instructed to give it to Elleanore only if she asked questions."
The air left my lungs.
"Take it," Aldric said softly. "It's yours."
My hands shook as I reached for the envelope.
My name was written on it.
Not neat. Not careful.
Rushed. Desperate.
Elliot's handwriting.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Horace placed a steady hand near my back—not touching, but grounding.
Aldric watched us.
Then his tone shifted—light, dangerous, almost too casual.
"There is one more matter."
I stiffened.
Aldric folded his arms.
"Elleanore, the Academy's scent detection network has logged several irregularities near your presence."
My blood froze.
Horace stepped in front of me so fast the air stirred.
"That's enough," he snapped.
Aldric raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness, you cannot protect her from biology."
Horace's voice took on a lethal calm I'd never heard from him before.
"You have no right to imply anything about her scent."
Aldric smiled thinly. "You misunderstand. I am not implying. I am stating."
My breath went shallow.
Aldric looked at me with unnerving clarity.
"Elleanore," he said, "you are not an Alpha, are you?"
Silence.
Complete and devastating.
Horace inhaled sharply. "Headmaster—"
Aldric held up a hand.
"I am not here to expose you," he said gently. "If I intended to, I would have done so yesterday."
I could barely breathe.
Aldric's eyes softened—just a fraction.
"You're afraid," he said. "But you are not the first student to hide for reasons beyond their control."
I felt my heart ache in my chest.
"You are not in trouble," he added. "And your secret is not yet at risk."
Yet.
The word rang loud even though he didn't say it aloud.
Horace stepped closer to me.
"What do you want?" Horace asked quietly.
Aldric smiled.
"Cooperation."
My breath trembled. "Cooperation… for what?"
Aldric's eyes gleamed.
"For uncovering what really happened to Elliot Fonze."
The Letter and the Lie
I didn't open the letter right away.
I couldn't.
It felt too heavy in my hands—too final, too real, like peeling back the paper would rewrite everything I thought I knew about Elliot's last days.
Aldric watched me with an expression that wasn't unkind, but wasn't comforting either. Neutral. Controlled. Measured.
Like he already knew what was inside.
Like he was waiting to see what it would do to me.
Horace stepped closer—not touching, but close enough that his presence steadied the shaking in my fingers.
"Whenever you're ready," he said quietly.
I wasn't ready.
But Elliot had left this for me.
And I had to know why.
My thumb slid under the seal.
The paper opened with a soft tear.
Inside was a single sheet—folded twice, the edges slightly smudged as if he wrote it quickly, or with trembling hands.
I unfolded it.
And the world tilted.
Elliot's Letter
El,
If you're reading this, something went wrong.
I messed up. I tried to protect you. But now I think I might have made everything worse.
There's something here. Something big. Something dangerous.
I found records that shouldn't exist. I found surveillance footage that was erased. I found names on lists they don't want anyone to see.
I don't know who to trust anymore.
Except you.
El… promise me you won't go near them. Don't talk to them. Don't let them get close to you. Not the Headmaster. Not the prefects. Not anyone with access to the lower wings.
And El—
There's something else.
You have to be careful around the one who—
The sentence ended there.
Cut off mid-stroke.
Like he ran out of time.
Like someone interrupted him.
Like someone was standing behind him.
The room blurred.
My chest tightened.
"Elleanore?" Horace's voice was suddenly close, urgent. "What does it say?"
I couldn't speak.
Couldn't breathe.
I handed him the letter with shaking hands.
He took it gently, eyes scanning fast—expression shifting from neutral, to tense, to something colder than I'd ever seen in him.
Hurt.
Anger.
Fear.
"All of this…" Horace whispered. "He left this for you."
I nodded, a tear sliding down my cheek.
Aldric stepped forward calmly. "As I told you—your brother was involved in something far beyond student trouble."
Horace snapped, "Did you know about this letter?"
Aldric lifted his hands slightly. "I knew he left something. I did not know its contents."
"But you suspected," Horace insisted.
Aldric didn't deny it.
And I hated him for that. For the way he watched us. For the way he spoke so gently while knowing more than he admitted.
"Elleanore," Aldric said softly, "your brother trusted you for a reason. And now you must trust the right people as well."
Horace growled under his breath, "And who exactly are the 'right' people in your mind?"
Aldric's smile did not reach his eyes.
"Me," he said.
I flinched.
Horace stepped fully in front of me, rigid. "You are not touching her investigation."
Aldric sighed. "Your Highness, you are emotional. Understandably. But this matter transcends personal sentiment."
"I will protect her," Horace said sharply.
"And I will protect this Academy," Aldric replied. "Both can be true."
My voice finally broke through.
"What did Elliot show you?" I whispered.
Aldric paused.
Studied me.
Then said, "Something he should not have seen."
My stomach twisted.
"Which was?"
Aldric smiled politely. "Not something I can discuss without further confirmation."
"So nothing," Horace snapped. "You're telling us nothing."
Aldric didn't react.
"Elleanore," he continued instead, "I did not call you here to threaten you. I called you because you are standing in the center of something dangerous. And I need you to cooperate so we may avoid… complications."
Complications.
The word made my skin crawl.
"I want to know the truth," I whispered.
"Good," Aldric said. "Then we want the same thing."
Horace stepped back toward me—close enough that our shoulders touched.
"Elleanore is not meeting with you alone again," he said firmly.
Aldric tilted his head. "Are you certain you can maintain that promise, Your Highness? Because the moment the Council catches wind of her irregular scent traces—"
Horace's fist tightened at his side.
"Enough," he growled.
Aldric raised a brow. "I'm simply stating the reality."
Horace moved before I even realized he'd stepped forward.
He stood toe-to-toe with the Headmaster, gaze sharp.
"Elleanore is under my protection," Horace said. "And if the Council wants to question her, they'll have to go through me."
Aldric met his stare steadily.
"And what will you do?" the Headmaster asked softly. "Defy royal protocol? Risk scandal? Risk your position?"
Horace's jaw tightened.
But he didn't back down.
"Try me," he said.
I had never heard Horace speak like that.
Not to a teacher. Not to a superior. Not to anyone.
Aldric finally broke eye contact.
He stepped back.
"You are brave," Aldric murmured. "Or foolish."
"Both," Rowan's voice echoed from behind us.
Aldric's head swiveled.
The door was half-open—Rowan leaning against the frame with a bored expression.
Cassian stood just behind him, arms crossed.
Chandler stormed in right after, out of breath like he'd sprinted the entire hallway.
"Is she okay?" Chandler demanded immediately. "I swear if he—"
Aldric raised a brow. "Gentlemen. This is a private meeting."
"No," Chandler said, stepping between him and me, "this is a rescue."
Cassian rubbed his forehead. "Stop being dramatic."
Rowan pointed with his cup of tea. "She didn't open the letter until just now, did she? Oh, good. We arrived in time for the fallout."
Horace scowled. "Rowan…"
"What?" Rowan shrugged. "You expected us to stay outside while Vane poked holes in her psyche?"
Aldric exhaled slowly, as if the group of us were somehow more tiring than dangerous.
"I see," Aldric said. "So the heirs have formed an alliance around Miss Fonze."
"No," Chandler snapped. "We formed a wall."
Cassian added quietly, "One you shouldn't push through."
The Headmaster folded his hands behind his back.
"Very well," Aldric said. "You may escort her."
I blinked. "That's it? You're letting me go?"
"For now," Aldric said. "But Elleanore—"
His tone turned faintly, chillingly warm.
"Be careful whom you trust. Elliot's last mistake was trusting the wrong person."
A cold shiver slid down my spine.
Cassian tensed. Chandler looked ready to punch him. Rowan's smile vanished. Horace stepped closer to me again.
Aldric gave me a polite nod.
"Good day."
And with that—he dismissed us.
Outside the Office
The moment the door shut behind us, Chandler exploded.
"What the hell was that?!"
Cassian muttered, "He knows about her scent."
Rowan nodded. "Of course he does. He's not stupid."
Horace kept his hand near my arm, guiding me down the hallway.
"Elleanore," he said quietly, "are you alright?"
I clutched the letter to my chest. "No."
He opened his mouth—but I spoke first.
"Elliot warned me," I whispered. "He was scared. He told me not to trust someone with access to the lower wings."
Cassian stiffened.
Rowan looked thoughtful, almost grim.
Chandler asked, voice rough, "Do you think Aldric was the one he meant?"
I shook my head slowly.
"No."
They all turned to me.
Because as terrifying as Aldric was, Elliot's last line—
"be careful around the one who—"
didn't feel like it pointed to the Headmaster.
It felt closer.
More personal.
More dangerous.
Horace leaned forward slightly. "Elleanore… who do you think he meant?"
My voice trembled.
"I don't know."
A beat.
"But I think whoever it is… they're watching us."
All four boys stiffened.
Rowan murmured, "Then we need to move before they make the next move."
Horace nodded.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let's get you somewhere safe."
But as we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling burning the back of my neck:
Whoever Elliot feared—
Whoever he warned me about—
Wasn't hiding in shadows or secret rooms.
They were closer.
Much closer.
And I was walking straight toward them.