I hold Min Lo’s steady gaze, not able to look at Vothe. Not wanting to feel the lightning aura that ignites and fills me with excruciatingly futile want whenever our eyes meet. The concern that washes over Min Lo’s features solidifies into what looks like resolve. Her jaw tightens, lips thinning as she strides toward me, my wand in her hand.

She stops before me. “I’ll petition Ung Li to let you remain in your Wyvernguard uniform,” she states.

Surprise bolts through me, the power in my lines whipping into a frenzy. Min Lo hands my wand back to me.

“Thank you,” is all I can manage as I take it. Min Lo shoots Vothe a loaded glance. Then she strides off, her boots clicking against stone.

I stare after her, fighting the urge to meet Vothe’s gaze. It’s so strong, this draw. So cursedly, overwhelmingly strong. Everything in me pulsing and straining to merge with Vothe’s power, I give in, turn, and meet his dark-eyed gaze.

Lightning energy streaks between us, its charge shivering through my lines straight down to the soles of my feet, and I can tell from Vothe’s expression that he feels it too. His lips part, as if caught on a surprised exhale, his gaze locked tight on mine as lines of forking white lightning flash into being on his lips. His lightning-laced mouth closes then opens again, as if he desperately wants to say something, his body tensed as if brimming with the sheer force of it.

Two young female apprentices round the terrace’s curve, and we turn toward them, our charged connection broken. Vothe averts his gaze and looks distractedly over the Vo, biting his lightning-glazed lips with an expression of intense frustration. The veins of light skimming his mouth rapidly blink out of sight, and a piece of my heart blinks out, as well.

He’s ashamed of his attraction to me.

Despair rising, I view the young women as they draw nearer, both of them glaring at me with looks of revulsion. The taller woman, her hair done in looping black braids streaked with blue, claps Vothe on the shoulder as she passes.

“Koilu, Noi’khin,” she says, meeting Vothe’s eyes with a look of solidarity.

Be strong, kin of Noilaan.

Vothe’s whole body stiffens. But he remains silent.

Completely silent.

The apprentices reach the other end of the terrace and pass out of sight, as my heart constricts with a vicious, shearing ache.

“I need to get back,” I force out, willing myself to avoid his gaze. Not wanting to see his choice clear in it—his choice to keep me out.

Because I know that Vothe’s rejection right now holds the power to level me.