Moonveil Academy

All green eyes and messy blond hair, he stood there like a wall I hadn't seen coming.

I stumbled back, my shoulder hitting the doorframe, blinking up at him. What was he looking for?

"A heir—oh my god, another one—"

"Is he here for her?"

"No way, how many heirs can one girl pull?"

I fought the urge to wince.

Rowan, of course, looked completely unfazed. There was a casual smugness about him, like the growing attention only made him stronger. 

His eyes skimmed my face, then dipped to my throat, my shoulders, and back to my eyes.

"You're here," he said softly. "Good."

I blinked, thrown.

"Am I supposed to thank you for the observation?" I asked, voice flat.

A flicker of amusement tugged at his mouth. "Yes! There she is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He ignored that, stepping slightly closer. Too close. I moved back a half step and he followed, matching me like this was a dance only he knew the steps to.

"I'm just checking in," he said lightly. "Is it bad that I wanted to know how you're doing?"

I raised a brow. "How considerate. Didn't realize I was your responsibility now."

"You're not," he said, his grin flashing wider. "But you are… curious."

I tried to step around him with Freya. He moved again, blocking me, that smile still firmly plastered on his irritatingly perfect face.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, keeping my voice low. "The stares are bad enough."

"Let them stare."

"That's easy for you to say when people can't say all sorts of nasty things to your face."

He tilted his head, faux-innocent. "Can I get your number?"

"What?"

He said it louder, clearer. "Your number. Phone. Contact info. Basic civilization."

The whispering exploded.

"Oh my god, did Rowan Everhart just ask—?"

"No, no, this girl must have enchanted them—"

"Do heirs fall in love with scholarship students now?"

I felt heat creep up my neck. Not the dreamy, blushy kind. The mortifying kind that made you want to dig your own grave and live in it forever.

I squared my shoulders. "No, thank you. I'm still recovering from the trauma of being kissed by your fellow heir, actually."

He blinked. "Trauma?"

"Yes."

His smile grew, slow, wicked. "Elias kissed you. Not the other way around."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Because that makes me feel so much better."

"I could make them stop," Rowan offered casually, gesturing to the crowd still not-so-subtly watching us. "The chatter. The staring. All of it."

"I don't need your help."

"I didn't say you needed it. Just offering."

I stepped sideways, trying to pass.

He moved again.

"Seriously?" I glared.

He smiled wider. "Seriously."

"Why are you suddenly interested in me?" I asked, folding my arms. "Is this some kind of twisted heir competition? Because if so, tell Elias he already won. I'm thoroughly traumatised."

"No competition," Rowan said. "I just think you're… interesting."

"Interesting?"

He shrugged like that explained everything.

"You don't know even me."

"I'm trying to," he said, his voice smooth and measured, as if every word was deliberate. "Which is why I asked for your number. Logical progression, really."

I blinked at him, unsure if I wanted to laugh or shove him harder. Logical progression? Seriously?

I glanced at Freya. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, staring at Rowan like she was ten seconds away from summoning a magical fireball and hurling it at his head. If looks could kill, he'd have been ash already.

I turned back to him and tried to shove past, my shoulder pressing into his chest.

He didn't budge.

Great.

It was like trying to push a wall. No, a marble statue. A tall, annoying, infuriatingly attractive marble statue that smelled faintly like rain and something expensive I couldn't name. My irritation spiked, mostly because my brain was clearly betraying me.

"Please," he said softly.

I froze.

Just one word, but the way he said it, quiet, almost raw, knocked the wind out of my anger. No smirk, no glint of amusement in his eyes. Just… please.

I sighed, my resolve melting faster than I wanted to admit. "Fine."

There was a collective gasp behind me.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed in my number. He took it with a satisfied glint in his eye, sliding it into his own phone like a hunter tucking away a prize.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"The Library," I muttered. "Before Research Skills."

Rowan nodded once, his expression unreadable.

I moved past him this time, and this time, he let me.

But I could feel his gaze on my back like a weight. Heavy. Steady.

Watching.

Tracking.

Freya caught up to me in two strides, whispering through clenched teeth, "OMG, Maeve, what was that?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.

"He asked for your number."

"I noticed."

"And you gave it to him?"

I groaned. "He said please."

She blinked. "That's it? That's the bar now?"

I didn't answer. Because I didn't have one.

We reached the top floor of the library just as the bell rang. The building loomed tall, ancient and silent, with arched windows that spilled sunlight across the tiled floors. It smelled like parchment and old spells. Safe.

Or so I thought.

We barely made it past the library doors when my phone buzzed again, the vibration sharp against my palm.

Unknown Number:You really are going to the library. Impressive.

I didn't need to ask who it was. My stomach dipped, the kind of hollow swoop that came when you knew someone was watching but couldn't see them.

I didn't respond.

Instead, I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, as if burying it there could muffle the unease crawling under my skin. Freya was already a few steps ahead, muttering something about "idiots with too much time on their hands to gossip" as she disappeared between shelves.

I slowed, letting my fingers drift along the spines of thick, dusty books in the Research section. The covers smelled like paper and age, and for a fleeting second, I tried to lose myself in the quiet of it all.

I slipped into a chair tucked into a corner table, hoping Freya would find me later. I just needed a moment to breathe, to let my thoughts untangle.

And then, just as I started to exhale, someone said, "Hello."

The voice was warm, steady, but it sliced clean through my haze.

I turned, and froze.

Elias.