Everyone watches the king, but he’s busy looking for Alina, scanning the crowd with pale eyes. And when he spots her, his wrinkled face breaks into a wide grin. He waves, rings on his fingers gleaming, mouthing, “I’m so proud of you.”
Alina turns a delicate shade of pink as everyone turns to look at her.
The king takes a seat next to Raelan, who’s wearing formal regalia today—and looking somewhat uncomfortable in it. Alina’s mother and father join them, and the four of them draw more stares and whispers as they get settled.
But at that moment, Headmistress Moonhart climbs the stairs onto the dais, and the crowd focuses on her instead.
“Welcome,” she says, her voice projecting over the assembled crowd.
The courtyard quiets, conversations and whispers fading until all that’s left is the sound of the breeze moving through the trees and the snap of the flags atop the tall towers.
Headmistress Moonhart lets the silence settle, her blue-eyed gaze sweeping over us, taking it all in. Then she smiles.
“It is always a pleasure to gather here at the close of the academic year, to celebrate not only what has been accomplished but also what lies ahead.” Her eyes focus on the first few rows of students. “Each of you seated before me has spent years within these walls, learning, failing, trying again, and growing into someone stronger than you were when first you arrived.”
Deep in my chest, there’s a stirring of emotion. Lyra reaches over and takes my hand. I give her fingers a squeeze, then reach for Poppy’s hand, and she reaches for Alina’s, until all four of us are connected.
The headmistress continues, speaking of responsibility, choice, and the way magic is shaped not just through power but through the heart of the person who wields it. I listen closely, trying to engrain this moment into my memory: the warmth of the sun on my back, the smell of the earth, the dance of the breeze through my hair.
I’ll never be here again. Four years have led me to this moment, and I don’t want to forget a second of it.
“Now,” Headmistress Moonhart says, straightening up where she stands at the lectern on the raised platform, “let us recognize this year’s Coven Crest graduates.”
One line at a time, the students assemble at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais. The headmistress begins to call names, and each student makes their way onto the platform to receive their scroll of completion, then descends the opposite side. There’s quiet applause for each student, their family and friends celebrating them as they cross the stage.
Then it’s time for our row to stand. We do, shuffling out of our seats and walking across the deep grass to stand in a line at the bottom of the dais. There’s a delicate tug in my chest, and it calls my eyes to scan the crowd.
And this time, finally, I find him.
Severin stands back from the crowd, in a patch of shade cast by a tall oak tree overhead. The breeze tousles his dark hair and makes the leaves on the tree whisper. There’s a rigidity in his posture, as always, but a softness in his crimson eyes.
And when he smiles—a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth—I know it’s just for me.
I smile back, then turn as another name is called, our line moving forward toward the platform.
Of the four of us, Alina is the first to be called.
“Alina Rowena Ravenscroft.”
The applause for Alina is louder than it’s been for the other students, primarily because the king is clapping wildly, a few tears glittering on his cheeks. She ascends the stairs and glides across the platform, smiling wide as she takes her scroll from the headmistress.
Our line moves forward.
“Poppy Everly Waverly.”
I give Poppy’s fingers one last squeeze, and then she climbs the stairs.
And my stepbrother is clapping and whooping before she’s even made it to the lectern. Headmistress Moonhart cuts him a look, silencing him with one glance. My lips curl into a smile as Poppy’s cheeks flare bright red. She takes her scroll, then descends the opposite side of the platform.
I step up to the bottom of the stairs.
“Maeve Briar Vandermere.”
Aric whoops and cheers again.
Around my neck, Isis shifts, then hisses, “Congratulations, Maeve.”
I smile as I climb the stairs. Headmistress Moonhart is waiting for me, her ice-blue hair twinkling under the sun. As I approach, she holds a scroll out to me, tied with a purple ribbon.
