Page 187 of House Ignis

He didn't look entirely convinced, but he offered his hand and I took it, pulling myself up. His fingers were warm and sure, a grounding force against the chill of the morning.

"I have to head to the fields for Riftball training," he said, his fingers linking with mine. "You coming to the match?"

I blinked, oh yeah fuck.

"Yeah. Of course I'll be there."

"There's an afterparty at the arena," he added, shooting me a wicked grin over his shoulder. "You keen?"

"Oh, I'm keen," I said, rolling my eyes in mock enthusiasm to mask the static in my head.

As he passed me to grab his gear, I couldn't help it—I gave him a firm, playful smack on the ass.

He spun, eyes bright with mischief, and shot me that specific look that promised I'd pay for that later.

"I'll be back by sundown," he warned, his grin widening even as a flicker of concern remained in his silver eyes. "

Don't spend the whole day buried in those dusty books."

I forced a smile and watched him go. The second the door clicked shut behind him, I scrambled out of bed.

I had secrets to uncover before he came back.

•••

By the time I reached the Tower of Archives, whatever warmth Asher had left beneath my skin was gone.

Jules wasn’t there.

Her usual desk sat empty, her stack of quills untouched. No papers. No scribbled notes. Just a hollow, echoing silence that made the hair on my arms stand up.

My chest tightened.

I asked one of the older scholars at the front desk if he’d seen her. He blinked behind his spectacles and shook his head, mumbling that he hadn’t seen her since yesterday.

Another apprentice shrugged without looking up from his scroll. "Sometimes she's called away for rituals."

I managed a nod, but my stomach had already dropped through the floor.

Jules never missed a meeting. She would've left a note.

A sign.

Something.

I gripped the edge of the desk, my hands shaking so violently I had to tuck them into my sleeves.

I tried to smother the panic, fighting to keep the edges of my fear from bleeding down the bond to Asher.

He was at training; he didn't need to feel my panic tearing through the bond.

Gods, Jules. Where the fuck are you?

The door to the Archives banged open, and Jules tumbled in.

Her hair was a complete disaster, her cheeks were flushed a brilliant pink, and she was clutching her glasses in her hand instead of wearing them.

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, dropping a stack of parchment onto the desk. "I got—uh—caught up this morning."