Azalea’s wolf woke her before the bells.
Not with alarm.
With an unfamiliar restlessness.
She lay beneath the quilt, listening to footsteps in the corridor and the distant rush of water through the old pipes. Her satin bonnet had slipped toward one eyebrow. She straightened it, then lay still again, trying to decide whether the strange warmth beneath her ribs was excitement or warning.
Across the hall, Aurelia was awake.
Azalea could feel it: a quiet, tightly gathered presence.
She had known that feeling during their childhood, though distance had made it faint. Sometimes she would wake in the royal house with an ache that belonged to neither illness nor injury. Later, on the phone, Aurelia would mention a difficult healing lesson or a headache after training.
They had learned to ask careful questions.
Did you sleep?
Have you eaten?
Are you actually all right?
Now there was only a corridor between them.
Azalea intended to keep it that way.
* * *
The lower practice grounds were almost empty when she arrived.
Mist hung above the grass. Beyond the boundary fence, pine trees climbed the mountainside.
A young Black man stood beside a practice dummy, trying to free his sleeve from its wooden hand. His dark brown skin glistened faintly with exertion, and a short line of locs had escaped the tie at his nape. There was something reassuring about how thoroughly absorbed he was in losing an argument with training equipment.
Azalea stopped.
He looked up.
For several seconds, neither moved.
His scent reached her: warm amber, pine resin, clean wool.
Her wolf rose so suddenly that her fingers curled.
The young man’s expression changed.
Then the practice dummy released his sleeve.
He stumbled backward.
Azalea caught his arm.
The moment their skin touched, warmth moved through her with such certainty that her eyes filled.
“Oh,” he said.
She laughed softly.
“Yes.”
He looked at her hand on his arm.
Then at her face.
“Theo Ashford.”
“Azalea Moretti.”
“I had something better planned.”
“For meeting me?”
“For meeting anyone important.”
“What was it?”
“I can’t remember a word.”
She laughed again.
He smiled, still looking a little stunned.
“May I hold your hand properly?”
She offered it.
No inspection of her uniform.
No glance toward the royal crest.
No question about what her father would expect.
Just his fingers closing gently around hers.
The relief was so sharp it hurt.
Theo noticed.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“No.”
But her happiness had brushed against Aurelia’s pain, and she could not entirely separate them.
“My sister met her mate yesterday.”
His smile faded.
“It went badly?”
“Yes.”
Theo looked down at their joined hands.
“We don’t have to hurry.”
Azalea studied him.
“You’re not going to ask who she is?”
“I assume I’ll meet her.”
“You will.”
“Then I’d rather she tell me what she wants me to know.”
Azalea’s wolf settled.
For the first time since waking, the restlessness eased.
* * *
Aurelia answered the knock wearing her academy shirt with one sleeve still unbuttoned.
Her gaze moved from Azalea to Theo.
Then to their hands.
“Oh.”
Azalea’s happiness faltered.
Aurelia felt it.
“Don’t,” she said immediately.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were apologizing inside your own head.”
Theo looked between them.
“Should I stand farther away?”
Aurelia’s mouth curved.
“Only if you intend to disappoint her.”
“I’d rather avoid that.”
“Good.”
She offered her uninjured hand.
“Aurelia.”
“Theo.”
His handshake was warm and careful.
Behind her, Nia sat up in bed.
“Why is there a handsome man before breakfast?”
Azalea laughed.
Nia narrowed her eyes at their hands.
“Oh. Congratulations.”
Then she looked at Aurelia.
“Do you think the academy gives refunds if yours arrives arrogant?”
“Nia.”
“What? I’m exploring policy.”
Theo wisely said nothing.
* * *
They ate breakfast together.
Azalea kept discovering little things: Theo preferred tea without sugar, listened before speaking, and had a habit of rubbing his thumb over a scar on his knuckle when nervous.
He was training in defensive magic and rescue operations.
His family ran a small border settlement.
He knew what it was to work.
Aurelia relaxed enough to argue with him about whether a shield should prioritize impact resistance or sustained protection.
“Depends on what you’re protecting,” Theo said.
“People.”
“Then whether they can move.”
Aurelia considered that.
“Fair.”
Azalea watched them, warmth filling her chest.
For once, something good did not need defending.
Then Matteo appeared beside the table.
His eyes settled on Theo’s hand resting near hers.
“What is this?”
Azalea set down her cup.
“This is Theo.”
“I know who he is.”
“Then you’ve answered your question.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
Theo stood.
“Sir.”
“Your assessment ranking?”
Azalea’s smile vanished.
“Matteo.”
“Your family territory?”
“Northwestern border,” Theo answered.
“Pack size?”
“Enough,” Aurelia said.
Matteo looked at her as though a chair had spoken.
“This concerns my sister.”
Aurelia went still.
Azalea rose.
“Then speak to me.”
Several nearby students stopped eating.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“You’re the Alpha King’s daughter.”
“And his other daughter is sitting right there.”
He glanced toward Aurelia.
Briefly.
Azalea felt her wolf press forward.
“You will not turn this into an interview.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Theo asked permission to hold my hand. You haven’t asked permission for anything.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
But the dining hall was watching.
At last, he said, “We’ll discuss this later.”
Azalea sat only after he left.
Her hands shook.
Theo moved his cup away from her elbow before she knocked it over.
Aurelia noticed.
So did Azalea.
Neither said anything.
Under the table, Azalea found her sister’s hand.
She held Theo’s with the other.