The carriage door shut closed with a slight snick of the latch sliding into position, a contrast to the heavy thump of a locking bar dropping into place a week earlier.

Quinten closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool wood behind him. The horses nickered to each other as the driver snapped the reins. The carriage lurched forward with the clopping of hooves and the jingle of harness.

Taking a deep breathe, he tried to process everything that’d happened and how his life had changed.

He and Cedric were being sentenced to war. It was almost funny, in a way. He’d gotten what he’d wanted.

If I turn my head a certain way and squint particularly hard, he thought.

He let out a small snort at his own poor joke. The tiny release of emotion was like the breaking of a damn. Quinten's shoulders shook and his face turned red as he tried to hold in his laughter. He struggled against it for only a few seconds before giving in with a small chuckle that turned into a full-belly laugh. Cedric joined in halfway through, and by the end, they were both wiping away tears from their eyes.

Quinten's grandfather didn’t laugh from where he sat across from them. But he let a slight smile touch upon his drawn and otherwise tight expression.

“Do you boys feel better?”

“Yes,” said Quinten, “I do. It was either that or cry in relief.”

Cedric nodded his agreement, adding. “It could definitely have gone worse.”

Grunting, Ed waved a hand and created a privacy barrier of air. “Only by trying to kill you outright.” Shaking his head, he gave a small snort of this own. “The king wasn’t kidding about the support you garnered from the commoners and lower-ranking nobles. Standing up for one of them against someone as well connected as the Highbridges? Word spread like wildfire, and any case they could have made would have been seen for what it was, an act of desperation.”

Sighing, he turned to look out the carriage window, its drape blown back by the oscillating wind.

“This was a neat way of bundling you off and getting you out of their hair. I expect you will be sent right into the lion’s den in the hopes of getting you killed.”

Neither Quinten nor Cedric had a ready response to what was likely a true statement. Deciding to change the subject slightly, Quinten asked. “Has Grandfather Henry sent you any recent updates on the war? The last I received is several months old now.”

Nodding, Ed released the privacy barrier, it having served its purpose, and replied, “I received one two weeks ago. They are in a stalemate, but one we are slowly losing. The Drakovians are simply too mobile and difficult to pin down on the open plains. Henry recalled their defensive screenings to newly built strategic fortifications. From those, he can better defend the farms and settlements closer to the borders. It won’t stop the Drakovians from raiding and pillaging. But it is limiting how deep into our lands they can do so without risking our forces cutting off their retreat.”

They can attack us at their leisure. Forcing us to respond, and controlling the war’s tempo, Quinten thought in frustration. He recognized it as a recipe for disaster and could understand why his grandfather believed they were losing.

Quinten kneaded his lip as he considered what they would need to take care of before heading out west. The affairs of his holdings were in good standing, as were their investments, largely done in a silent partner capacity at the suggestion of Quinten's grandfather. With both Cedric and Quinten expecting to spend several years away between the Academy and the Core, it made little sense to try for anything more active.

There were supplies and equipment that they would need to purchase before leaving. But at another suggestion from Ed, they were going to wait and see what the Core issued them before doing so. The concern being space and weight rather than cost.

Their conversation lasted until their carriage pulled up to the Academy’s gated entrance. Cedric and Quinten climbed down to the cobblestone street, his grandfather remaining seated.

Meeting Quinten's eyes through the open door, he said. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t have done more for you boys. I am heading back to the Council to find out what your assignments in the Core will be and to whom you will be placed under as Mage Commander. That will give us some idea of what to expect.”

Pausing, he looked down at his feet before meeting Quinten's gaze once more. There were several emotions swirling in his grandfather’s eyes—

No, Quinten realized in shock, parsing through what he was feeling. Not in his eyes. I’m sensing them myself.

A mix of frustration, irritation, acceptance, and even a touch of shame passed through him as he held the older man’s stare.

His grandfather blinked first, ending the connection and saying. “Before you leave, we will need to discuss some of the deals I had to negotiate on your behalf to get the votes we needed to see you cleared.”

Quinten felt the cold hand of dread grab him by the throat, as it gave a slight squeeze. He struggled to swallow and had to force down the anxiety threatening to rise. He’d heard his grandfather mention having to make a few deals when he’d appeared in the dungeon, but Q’d been able to push the concern away at the time with everything going on.

Unable to speak, he just nodded and stepped away from the carriage, allowing the driver to shut the door and put an end to their conversation. The man retook his seat and put the horses into motion with a shake of his reins.

“That wasn’t ominous or anything…” Cedric said in a concerned tone.

Quinten jerked in a full-body shiver, shaking off the nerves before they could settle.

“The stars shine where they want to. Nothing you or I can do about it. Come on, let’s go find Ronan.”

The pair turned and strode through the academy gates, nodding at the guards who, while staring at them oddly, thankfully recognized them as students from their training sessions together.

Former students, Quinten reminded himself.

They were noticed almost immediately. The fact they were still in their dress robes and not the white or grays of students made them stick out. The spectacle they’d made of themselves at the Ball having had ample time to spread during their weeks incarceration. Whispers and murmurs raced ahead as if aided by magic.

Neither boy was surprised when they arrived at their dorm to see a large group waiting for them. Oliver Wyndham stood at its head, feet planted and arms crossed. He sneered at them, warping his normally handsome face into something almost grotesque.

“What are you two doing back here? Weren’t you expelled?”

Cedric and Quinten stopped a few feet away from the young man and the crowd that was quickly forming around them. Trading a glance, Quinten raised a brown and asked his friend quietly. “I don’t think so… not technically, at least?”

Cedric grinned slightly. Sliding a step ahead of Quinten, he answered for them both. “No, we weren’t. But we are leaving the Academy.” Turning to the gathered students, he raised his arms and gave an extravagant bow. “The Queen herself stated that our talents are needed elsewhere. What was it the King said, Q?”

Fighting not to grin, Quinten stepped forward announcing, “I believe he said that the realm is better served by us protecting the kingdom, not sitting her and playing student.”

Their banter and blatant disregard for the older boy made him visibly bristle in anger. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. Taking a step forward, Oliver growled low in his throat.

Cedric matched the move, taking a step of his own with a dark glint in his eyes. The anger, absent from the initial revelation of Oliver and Celeste’s engagement, finally making an appearance. His muscles tensed in anticipation and his hands clenched involuntarily.

Sensing the shift, Quinten turned to face the older boy, raising a single brow in confusion. “Something stuck in your throat, Mage Wyndham?”

Oliver stared between the two of them. Dismissing Cedric, they settled on Quinten. “Just excited to see the trashed removed from the Academy. It has an image to uphold, after all.”

Quinten smirked, doing little to conceal the contempt he felt. “I’m sure. But you're in luck. We will be reporting to the Mage Core in the morning.” Cocking his head to the side, Quinten motioned with his chin. “If you wouldn’t mind moving out of our way, there are things we must do to prepare.”

Oliver’s hands twitched, and Quinten felt him begin to draw on his magic as flames licked at his fingertips. Quinten reached for his own Gifts when he was rocked by a wave of anticipation from the surrounding crowd that derailed his concentration.

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Distracted, he was unprepared for Oliver’s lunge.

*****

With a roar, Cedric shifted. Ripping through his clothes in his haste, he charged forward.

His current battle form was based on a large thick skinned beast with leathery skin that could handle elemental attacks relatively well when reinforced by his Physical gift. It was also built for short, rapid charges to close the distance between him and an opponent.

Cedric’s shod hooves shattered the stone pavers under his increased weight, driving them into the ground for more traction. Knocking Quinten out of the way, he barreled into Oliver, taking the man by surprise. He launched his opponent into the air with a thrust of his arms and shoulders.

Shifting once more, Cedric turned into something very similar to the lupine form Highbridge used in his fight with Quinten, except Cedric had no need to remain on only two limbs. He dashed forward on all fours, knowing he only had a moment before his target was back on his feet.

Cedric was only a few yards away when a wall of earth shot up and blocked him from his target. He’d been watching Oliver and realized the stone shaping hadn’t come from him. Someone else had interfered.

Prick can’t even fight his own battles.

Cedric altered his hind legs slightly, just enough to increase his vertical leap. He launched himself into the air and couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as he cleared the wall and shifted once more. This time, back to his normal human form with one exception.

Pain lanced through him as large, oversized wings burst from his back. The sheen of their raven-black feathers reflecting off the setting sun as they caught the wind.

*****

Well, fuck me, that’s a new one. Quinten stood slack-jawed as he watched his friend fly.

He wasn’t the only one. The gathered students stared in stunned silence. Even Oliver, having just returned to his feet, watched in paralyzed shock. That is, until Cedric folded his wings and dove straight for him.

His black wings flared out a moment before it was too late, and Cedric hit the ground at a run. He took three steps before landing a solid shot to the jaw that knocked the older boy unconscious, putting an end to their disagreement.

Staring at his friend, Quinten had to admit he made an impressive sight, standing the victor. His fine robes were ruined. His shirt, already torn from his earlier shifting, was in shredded tatters that allowed the pair of beautiful black wings the room they needed.

Quinten spotted a certain blonde head watching from among the crowd and couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he thought. I hope that burns going down. You had no idea what you gave up.

Realizing that it wasn’t a great idea to stick around, Quinten quickly made his way over to a panting Cedric, still amped up on adrenaline. He whistled to get his friend’s attention and nodded toward the building once their eyes met.

Quinten followed behind, blocking Cedric from view, he took the provided opportunity to inspect the man’s wings. As far as he could tell they tied into the shoulder blades, but it was much more complex. Quinten could see the muscles along Cedric’s shoulders were thicker, especially those by his neck and the lateral muscles along his side seemed extra dense. Cedric must have chosen that moment to shift them back as they folded into his body and he return to his normal form.

I’ll have to ask him about that, Quinten thought. He had always had a dream of flying. Sadly, he doubted this would be an option for him though, shifting just wasn’t one of his talents.

Entering the dormitory, the pair turned toward Ronan’s room and hurried down the hall. Cedric’s knock wasn’t answered, nor was there any sound of movement inside the room. Quinten and Cedric traded glances and Quinten shrugged.

Frowning, Cedric knocked again, harder this time. Making the door rattle in its frame.

“Hey, healer-boy. There is a jackass out front that could probably use your assistance.”

Something hit the floor with a thud and a muffled curse made its way through to the two in the hall. A moment later and the door swung open revealing a pale, paler than usual, face of their friend. The slight smell of unwashed body odor reaching Quinten from within the room.

A sob escaped the tall, thin boy as he rushed them. Grabbing first Cedric and then Quinten in a tight and slightly smelly hug.

“I thought you two were going to die…” he mumbled into Quinten's shoulder as he patterned the crying man’s back.

Cedric reached over and put a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “You can’t get rid of your brothers that easily.”

He laughed in response. A laugh that turned into a hiccup halfway through that looked like it caused the older boy physical pain.

Pulling back, Ronan wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned, motioning them into his room. Neither boy moved to enter, a shared grimace crossing their faces.

“When’s the last time you showered, you stink?”

With another hiccup, Ronan said. “Probably about the same time you two did. Things haven’t been great.”

Quinten gave him a light push. “Get your stuff. We all could use one.”

*****

A gasp from behind him and Quinten spinning around. Ronan reached over and pulled Cedric’s arm to where he could better see it in the overhead crystal-light.

“You’re bleeding!”

Rolling his eyes, he pulled his arm back as Quinten laughed. “It’s not mine. It’s that git, Oliver’s. I’m fine.”

Ronan frowned, looking between Quinten and Cedric. “Earlier, when you said someone could use my help…”

Cedric grinned, and Quinten nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

Sighing, Ronan just shook his head, grumbling about idiots and their inability to stay out of trouble.

“What happened?” He finally asked once his mumbling subsided.

“He tried to go after Q and I decided I’d rather have a rematch instead.” Turning to Ronan, he flexed, showing of his lean muscle. “He wasn’t ready for me this time.” He smiled after earning a snort from his friend, but as if remembering something he’d forgotten, he turned toward Quinten.

“Actually, that reminds me. What happened to you?” He asked with a frown. “One minute you were ready to go, and the next you looked like you were about to pass out.”

Quinten scratched his head and considered the best way of explaining. Deciding it was probably better to start from the beginning.

Facing Cedric, he said. “That’s actually something I’ve been ask you about. I thought I might have imagined it, as it didn’t happen at all during our time suppressed, but outside just now… it almost did me in.”

From there, they entered the showers and Quinten explained everything. The odd insight he would get around people that’d been occurring over the last year. Then the night of the ball, how he felt Cedric from across the room and how he’d found Mage Beaumont. To the crowd overwhelming him with its excitement.

Ronan frowned, confused. “When you say feeling people’s emotion. You mean sensing if someone’s happy, sad, or angry?”

“Kind of. It’s not just sensing. I am feeling it too.”

The pair turned to Cedric, who, was being unusually silent.

Staring at Quinten in shock, Cedric opened his mouth and tried to speak but no words came out. He finally found his voice and nearly shouted, “Falling fucking stars, you’re an empath!”

Ronan and Quinten shared a confused look, waiting for Cedric to explain.

Turning away from them, he started to pace. Doing it naked in the showers had Quinten fighting back a laugh at the absurd image.

“My mother told me about them once. They are incredibly rare, so much so they are considered by many to be a myth. She is going to lose her shit when she finds out you’re an empath.”

The humor quickly wearing off, Quinten interrupted, "That’s all well and good, but what exactly is an empath?"

Cedric stopped pacing and faced them. Shrugging, he said. “According to her, empaths have the power to sense and absorb the emotions of others. They don’t just feel them—they experience them as if they were their own. Empaths also have a heightened sensitivity to others' emotions, even without actively using their Gift.”

He stopped walking and looked directly at Quinten, a frown creasing his forehead. “There were cases of empaths being hunted down because people believed they could manipulate and influence those around them.”

Massaging his temples, Quinten groaned, “Of course they did. Because I need another reason for someone to want me dead.”

“Alright, enough of that.” Ordered Ronan. “What are they going to do with the two of you? And what about Instructor Highbridge?”

Cedric and Quinten traded looks. After seeing the state of their friend when they’d found him, they knew he wouldn’t like what they had to say.

“Ronan… We’ve been ordered to report to the Mage Core tomorrow. They are sending us to fight the Drakovians.”

*****

Ronan watched as Cedric and Quinten made their way up the stairs and toward their rooms. Swallowing thickly, he thought back on the last week.

It hadn’t been great.

He’d heard the commotion as the men from the Mage’s Council swarmed the men’s dormitory. He was grateful to catch sight of his two friends, confirming with his own eyes that they were fine and even following along behind as Quinten's grandfather lead them across campus.

Suspecting what would happen, Ronan hailed a passing carriage. One of the small ones that would only fit two people, bidding the driver to take him to his family's residence in Gremelda.

The trip to see his father had not gone well. The man’s refusal to come to his friend’s aid had led to a confrontation. A confrontation years in the making that came to a head as emotions ran high. Words were exchanged that could never be taken back, and Ronan wasn’t sure could ever be forgiven.

From there, things did not improve. His return to academy grounds was met with a large amount of interest. Everyone asking him what had happened and for details on the events leading up to Quinten's fight with Instructor—Former-instructor Highbridge.

When Ronan admitted to not knowing where the two had been taken, the focus shifted to the previous night. His flat refusal to share any of the details, especially the identity of Highbridge’s victim, the curiosity quickly turned to scorn and disdain.

He made it through the next few days, exchanging letters with Quinten and Cedric’s families as he tried to figure out a solution. Sitting alone in the dining hall for dinner, he heard another bit of gossip that killed any appetite he’d had.

The victim, who had managed to remain anonymous, would not be testifying against Viscount Highbridge.

Initially, Ronan was furious at Arita Beaumont. It took him several hours of brooding to understand the why of her actions. She would have to come forward publically with the accusation. Announcing to the entire kingdom what’d been done to her. It wasn’t her fault, but the harsh reality was that it would almost certainly ruin any chance of her finding a good marriage to someone of standing.

Learning that she wouldn’t come forward to substantiate Quinten's claims. Ronan could only guess at how much it would damage his friend’s cases.

At that point, Ronan’s depression dug in deep and he’d barely made it out of bed. He’d stopped going to class.

When a knock at his door woke him from a restless dream, the first bit of sleep he’d managed to get in days. He assumed it was someone on the academy staff making sure he was still alive. Opening the door to see Cedric and Quinten standing on the other side had nearly broken him completely.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Tall, skinny, his usually pale complexion was sallow from lack of sun and fresh air. Ronan reached up and touched the bags under his eyes, pulling the freckles tight across his cheeks.

Channeling his Gift through his hands, Ronan pushed a wave of rejuvenation through his body. Cupping water in his hands, he rinsed his face and took another look in the mirror.

He looked like himself once more, clear-eyed and fresh faced. Except for the eyes, those were different. They were the eyes of a man who’d made a decision.