Page 68 of Broken Star

Riven glances at it, studying it, then turns back to Circe.

“An academy for what?” he asks her, his voice carefully neutral.

“For witches, of course. I help guard its waters. Ensure that no one gets in—or out—who isn’t meant to,” she explains, turning to me. “You, Star Navigator, were able to sail these waters safely because of your magic. All others... let’s just say they’re not as lucky.”

“What happens to them?” I ask, waves lapping harder against the pier as my unease grows.

“Over the centuries, I’ve had my share of bodies wash up on shore.” She says it casually, as if discussing the weather. “Witches who tried to leave the academy and failed. Although,failedmight be too gentle a word. Because those who try to leave Blaze Academy don’t just drown. The sea makes sure of it.”

A heavy silence falls over us. Even the pigs huddle closer together, as if sensing the sharp shift in the air.

“What kind of academy needs that level of security?” Riven asks.

“The kind that’s better left alone,” Circe replies smoothly. “Now, you two should be on your way. The stars are waiting.”

I glance at the academy’s tower one last time, but clouds have already swept in to obscure it. Still, I can feel its presence—a weight of ancient magic pressing against my senses.

“Come on,” Riven says to me, the quiet command in his voice snapping me back to focus. “And Circe… your generosity is appreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, cocking her head and giving us a mischievous smile. “Truly. After all, I don’t want word getting around that I’ve turned considerate.”

I can’t help it—I laugh.

Because despite the whole “transforming men into pigs” thing, Circe isn’t all that bad.

“Oh, and Sapphire?” she says.

“Yeah?”

“When you return to Aeaea for a more relaxing family visit, bring me stories more interesting than heartbreak and betrayal.”

Then she’s gone in a burst of flames, leaving the smell of smoke, a pile of scorched boards, the basket of supplies, and three confused pigs in her wake.

Zoey

When Aethelthryth escortsme to Aerix’s quarters for dinner, the note’s handwriting plays through my thoughts on repeat, each curve and slash of the letters burning behind my eyes.

Aerix is waiting by the fireplace, his wings retracted, staring into the flames as though deep in thought.

“You look troubled,” he says as I enter, his gaze following me with that predatory focus I’ve grown so familiar with.

My heart stutters at the intensity of his midnight stare, warmth spreading through my veins despite the chill that always surrounds him.

“I do have some things on my mind.” I keep my eyes locked on his and move closer, studying his face for any hint of reaction. “Mainly, Matt’s murder. And the note left with his body.”

Aerix’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in the air as I walk toward him. A slight cooling, like a breeze through an open window, even though all his windows are closed.

“What about it?” he finally asks.

“The handwriting,” I say, and I’m only a foot away from him now—close enough that I can see his breaths quicken as he rakes his gaze over my body. “I compared it to your signature on my painting. The one you sograciouslyimproved for me.”

He tilts his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk of his. “Did you now?”

“The letters are different.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down, even though my head feels dizzy from standing so close to him. “Your capital A’s don’t have that extra curl. Your lowercase T’s have softer crosses. You didn’t write those notes.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers along my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath. “How observant of you,” he says after it’s clear to both of us that I’m not going to pull away. “Although, I fail to see why this matters.”

Tension crackles in the air between us.

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