Page 36 of House Ignis

"I'll be lucky to make it past the first round," I muttered, stabbing a pastry.

"Don't undersell yourself," Aether said dryly.

"V, you're fast," Maddy insisted, leaning in. "And your potion work is insane."

"Best in our year," Ryven agreed. "You were raised by the Ignivar division. The King doesn't train soft."

"Yeah," I said, glancing at my hands. "But none of that matters if my fire decides to burn the arena down instead of my opponent."

Aether huffed. "A minor technical detail."

Despite myself, a small smile finally tugged at my mouth.

A voice slid over my skin, smooth and deliberate.

"Speaking of the Aegos Trials…"

I turned and nearly choked on a moon cherry.

"Asher," Ember said, far too pleased. "Come sit."

Gods help me. He looked carved from temptation. He wore his black leather that were trimmed in the deep violet hues of Umbra with the Umbra house crest—a half-moon and stars—and that infuriatingly lazy grin. He didn't hesitate, pulling out the chair right beside me.

Asher filled the space effortlessly, his presence heavy like thunder waiting to break.

Two of his friends joined us.

"Darcy," the girl said, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She was striking—black-and-violet pixie cut, violet eyes sharp with mischief, a metal lip ring and a matching one on her eyebrow.

Ink curled from her fingers up her exposed arms to her neck, intricate and deliberate. Beside her, an auburn-haired male leaned forward with a reckless grin. "Ezra." His molten orange-gold eyes gleamed with a chaos that felt barely leashed.

"Nice to meet you," I managed, my voice coming out softer than intended.

Ryven introduced the rest of us, including Jules, who looked seconds away from fainting.

Then his scent hit me—it crashed into me like a storm over scorched earth. Rain and something dark and electric. It filled my lungs before I could stop it.

I went still, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

This wasn't just attraction—it was magic braided with instinct.

Jeremy smelled like pine forests and moss. Clean. Safe.

Asher smelled like midnight before battle.

Like smoke and thunder and something molten beneath stone.

It wrapped around me, curling through my blood and settling low in my stomach.

As the others debated brackets and trial speculation, I sat there unraveling in silence, every nerve awake.

Asher hadn't even touched me, but his scent dragged heat through my veins until I felt dangerously close to igniting.

I pressed my thighs together beneath the table, fighting for a control that was rapidly slipping away.

Then I heard it—a quiet, deliberate sniff.

My gaze snapped sideways.