Morning settled over Astrael academy as though nothing had fractured the night before.

  Students crossed the courtyards with books tucked beneath their arms. Laughter returned in small bursts. Instructors resumed their circuits through stone corridors. Ward-stones glowed at their usual intervals, steady and dependable.

  The academy had sealed its wound.

  Only Ardion and his circle carried the memory of shadows tearing through lantern light.

  Kael walked with his arm bound in a clean wrap, irritation simmering beneath the surface. Sylas spoke less than usual. Deric’s gaze tracked every corridor before they entered it.

  Ardion listened.

  Every footstep. Every door hinge. Every shift in air.

  His wolf had quieted, but it had not slept.

  “She’ll be in the eastern wing after second bell,” Sylas murmured, as though continuing a conversation they had never openly begun.

  Ardion gave a slight nod.

  He had questions. Too many.

  The way she had moved.

  The way the shadows had fractured.

  The reason she had stepped in against a danger like that, risking her life.

  He intended to find Aylinor before the day carried him elsewhere.

  He did not get the chance.

  A junior attendant approached from the main corridor, posture formal.

  “Your Highness,” she said carefully.

  Ardion stopped. “Please address me as you would everyone else.”

  The attendant straightened. “Master Ardion. The Headmaster requests your presence.”

  Deric’s attention sharpened instantly.

  Ardion inclined his head and changed direction.

  The Headmaster stood beside his desk when they entered. A sealed parchment rested before him, stamped with the royal crest. The wax had been broken.

  “It arrived moments ago,” the Headmaster said. “Her Majesty requests your presence at the palace. Immediately.”

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  The word settled heavily.

  Immediately.

  Ardion understood at once.

  The report would have reached the crown through proper channels. The king would have received it and handled it within established order. The academy’s autonomy would have remained intact.

  That had been the expectation.

  The queen’s summons meant something else.

  She had not been meant to know. Not because she lacked authority, but because the king would not have wished to trouble her before understanding the full extent of what had occurred.

  Ardion’s jaw tightened.

  The Headmaster continued, voice even. “You are permitted to depart. Astrael stands by its founding principles, as it always has. Within these grounds, rank holds no advantage. Beyond them, you remain the prince.”

  The distinction required no further explanation.

  Astrael had been established under the king’s decree that talent outweighed lineage within its walls. Noble blood commanded no privilege there. Wolf-blooded or human, title meant nothing without merit.

  The king had built it that way deliberately.

  Deric stepped forward without prompting.

  The Headmaster’s gaze flicked briefly to him. “You may accompany him.”

  It was not written in the summons, but as the crown prince’s personal assistant, he should.

  “………”

  The palace rose against the late afternoon sky in pale stone and silver banners.

  Ardion had walked these halls since childhood, yet today they felt altered. Not unfamiliar. Simply charged.

  He was led not to the council chambers but to a private sitting room overlooking the inner courtyard.

  Queen Elarin stood near the tall windows.

  When she turned, there was no ceremony in her expression.

  “You’re uninjured,” she said, stepping toward him.

  “I am,” Ardion replied.

  Her gaze searched him anyway.

  “I was informed there was a disturbance,” she continued, tone composed. “It appears the matter was contained before it reached me.”

  There it was.

  “He intended to manage it quietly,” Ardion said carefully.

  “He often does,” she replied.

  “You were targeted.”

  It was not a question.

  Ardion did not look away. “Yes. It was handled.”

  Silence settled between them, not sharp but heavy.

  “The academy remains autonomous,” the queen said at last. “Your father will not interfere within its structure.”

  “I know. And I do not want him to.” Ardion replied.

  She walked toward him slowly. She stopped before him, close enough that the air between them felt warmer.

  Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, firm and steady. Not ceremonial. Not restrained. Simply a mother grounding herself in something solid.

  “Distance from the palace does not lessen the risks around you, dear,” she said softly. “An unguarded place can invite more danger, not less.”

  The words were steady. Final.

  “I will not withdraw from Astrael,” he replied gently. “Not because I disregard your concern, Mother. But because leaving would mean allowing fear to decide for me.”

  A faint smile touched her expression. Restrained, but proud.

  “I would not ask you to.”

  She stepped back, composure settling once more into place.

  “Your father is already looking into it.”

  That meant far more than formal inquiry.

  “Be careful,” she said quietly.

  “I will.”

  “………”

  Elsewhere, far from palace stone and academy wards, another conversation unfolded.

  “He survived,” a voice observed.

  “Yes.”

  A pause.

  “And the intervention?”

  “Unexpected.”

  Silence shifted, thoughtful.

  “No further action within Astrael,” the first voice said. “Not yet.”

  “And the prince?”

  A faint exhale.

  “He remains the objective.”

  The quiet that followed carried weight.

  “Next time,” the second voice said, calm as winter, “there will be no miscalculation.”