"Lady Vaelreth!"

"Lady Vaelreth!"

The voice drifted through her dream like a disturbance in a field of sunlight.

Aveline was running through endless meadows where the grass swayed in waves and wildflowers scattered their perfume into the air. The sky above was pale and soft, washed in the color of warm vanilla, so gentle it seemed almost unreal. She laughed as she ran, light on her feet, as if the world had never taught her how to be careful.

Ahead of her, a little fox darted through the flowers.

Its fur was dark as earth after rain, its bright eyes turning back now and then as though to make sure she was still following. There was something mysterious about it, something that drew her forward without fear. It was leading her somewhere darker, somewhere hidden beyond the bright stretch of the fields.

And yet she did not hesitate.

She was not afraid of leaving the light behind.

For some reason she could not explain, she felt as though she would follow that fox anywhere.

Then the dream changed.

She was no longer herself, but a hare with pure white fur, small and quick and bright against the green. She hopped after the fox, chasing it through the flowers, rolling through the grass, until they were nothing but motion and laughter and warmth. In that dream, they belonged to each other in a way that felt older than words.

Inseparable.

Then...

**Bang.**

Something struck her head.

Aveline jolted awake with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright so suddenly that the dream shattered. For a bewildered second, she didn’t know where she was.

"What was—"

The words barely left her mouth before reality crashed down on her.

Classroom.

The professor stood in front of her with chalk dust on his fingers and murder in his eyes.

"Lady Ava Vaelreth," he snapped.

Aveline blinked and slowly lifted a hand to her head. He had thrown the duster at her.

At her head.

So... that was what had happened.

And yes, for "safety reasons," she was now Ava Vaelreth. Ava, she understood. But Vaelreth?

That thought almost made her laugh.

Vaelor+Reth. Reth meant "Hare".

Theron had named her his hare.

She had only been called that for a single day. How was she supposed to know that when it came wrapped in a new name and a new life and a new country that still felt half-alien to her?

"Are you sleeping in my class?" the professor demanded, his face flushing with outrage.

Aveline looked at him with slow, sleepy honesty.

Well, she wouldn’t be sleeping if he were saying something interesting.

He had been scribbling endlessly on the board for what felt like ages, talking about concepts that slid right past her like rain on glass. Her back hurt from sitting too long. Her mind had drifted because it had nowhere else to go.

"To be fair," she said, "you have a very soothing voice, Professor."

For one brief, stunned heartbeat, the room went silent.

Then the class exploded in laughter.

Nearly thirty students, who, for some reason, all seemed to adore the front rows and fought for their place there, laughed loudly enough to make the professor’s eye twitch.

Aveline’s fists clenched unconsciously. This noise... the laughter... invited memories she tried to forget.

"That is enough!"

Tick.

A piece of chalk flew from his hand and bounced off her forehead.

Aveline closed her eyes.

Now she was annoyed.

Theron had said she would be paid to stay here. That this was a proper opportunity. That it would help her.

But this place?

It was torture.

Not because it was difficult. Because it was boring in a way that felt endless, suffocating, like being trapped inside a room full of words she was supposed to understand and didn’t. It was worse than the governess and tutors she had once had to endure, because even they had eventually let her rest. Here, the hours crawled on without mercy.

"So, since you’re so smart that you don’t have to listen to my lecture, tell me how you’d identify a Viridrex Aetherstone?" he asked.

Aveline blinked. Yeah, he was holding a green glowing stone the whole time and talked about various methods to identify it.

Well, she didn’t have to learn it, because... for her it looked green. She didn’t have to powder it, add stuff, boil it, and filter it to see what color it becomes, to identify the stone.

But she couldn’t tell him that, can she?

And so, she stood straight.

"Go stand outside the classroom!" the professor barked.

Aveline rolled her eyes. "It’s not like I can listen any better from outside," she muttered.

Why not just let me sleep in peace?

She had thought, foolishly perhaps, that being sponsored by the Crown Prince would earn her some measure of respect. They had even given her a silk uniform while most others wore linen and cotton, as if that made her special.

Apparently not.

The professor’s face reddened so violently she feared he might actually burst if she stayed another minute. So she dragged herself to her feet with all the grace of a wronged soul and shuffled toward the door.

"Outside!"

"Yes, yes," she muttered.

She stepped out into the corridor and leaned against a pillar just beyond the threshold.

The door shut behind her.

And the sudden quiet was almost unbearable.

For a moment she stood there, breathing slowly, her irritation settling into something duller.

Then the memory returned.

That sharp crack... The chalk... The duster.

Her fingers curled against the stone.

Her pulse changed.

The corridor, so still a moment ago, seemed to tilt subtly beneath her. The bright walls blurred, and for a heartbeat she was somewhere else entirely—somewhere narrow and cold, where voices did not teach but punished, where objects thrown once had become something worse later.

Her chest tightened.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

Her breath trembled in her throat as her body remembered before her mind could stop it. A wound she had not expected to ache so sharply reopened in silence, old fear rising up with the memory of pain.

What if the next thing is harder?

What if someone inside is waiting to hurt her for real?

Her hand pressed harder against the pillar, trying to anchor herself in its cool, steady surface.

"This isn’t that place," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "This isn’t that place."

But fear did not always listen to reason.

Her heartbeat was too fast. Her skin too cold. Every sound from inside the classroom—chalk scratching, a chair shifting, the professor’s voice rising and falling—felt suddenly sharp enough to cut.

Her fingers twitched.

Her breathing had turned ragged, shallow, as though each breath had to be dragged in by force. She reached instinctively for the pearls she always kept with her—her mother’s pearls, cool against her palm, a small piece of comfort she had never once let go.

And beside them was the carved token.

Theron’s token.

The rune etched into it felt strangely warm beneath her fingers, as if it had been waiting there for her all along. He had told her to press it the moment she was in danger.

I’ll be there.

The memory hovered at the edge of her mind like a hand extended into darkness.

Should she?

Aveline leaned harder against the pillar, her knees suddenly unsteady beneath her. Her chest ached in that frightening, suffocating way that made her think she might actually collapse if she took one more breath like that. She had left Hamilton behind in her dormitory, and now, in the middle of this vast and unfamiliar place, she felt the absence of him keenly.

She needed something.

Someone.

Anything that could hold her together for one more moment.

Pain made her weak. Weakness made her angry.

And then, with a force that surprised even herself, she straightened.

No.

She had decided to stay away from him.

She had chosen that.

She would not call him every time fear rose up inside her. She would not become the kind of burden that would only tie him down, the kind of person he would someday have to carry when he should be standing tall for a kingdom.

Her fingers loosened around the token.

She lifted her head.

And there was a familiar figure...