Chapter 1 - Kiara
The first day of school was supposed to feel normal.
It didn’t.
The academy grounds were still half‑asleep, wrapped in early‑morning mist, the sky a pale wash of blue. Most students were still arriving, but the training field behind the main building was already alive with movement—warriors warming up, instructors barking orders, the metallic ring of weapons clashing.
I dropped my bag on the grass and exhaled slowly.
Kiara Thorn.
Daughter of the Head Warrior.
Top of my combat class.
Future Luna Queen—
or so everyone whispered.
Not chosen.
Not destined.
Just expected.
And expected meant perfect.
Always perfect.
Which is why I was here before sunrise, trying to burn off the knot in my stomach before the rest of the academy woke up.
I stepped into the sparring ring and began my warm‑up. My movements were sharp, precise, controlled. I was the best in our year. Everyone knew it. I never slipped.
Left. Right. Pivot. Kick.
The world narrowed to movement and breath.
Until it didn’t.
A shift in the air—sharp, electric—made my spine stiffen.
I didn’t turn.
I didn’t have to.
Liam was here.
His presence hit me like a punch to the ribs—heavy, familiar, impossible to ignore. He’d been gone all summer, training with the royal guard preparing for his future as Oliver’s Beta. I hadn’t seen him once.
Not that I’d expected to.
My next strike faltered.
Barely.
But enough.
Enough for him to notice.
“Your stance is sloppy.”
His voice slid across the training field like a blade.
I spun around, pulse spiking. Liam stood at the edge of the ring, arms crossed, dark hair falling over his forehead, blue eyes locked on me with that infuriating, unreadable intensity.
He looked different.
Older.
Sharper.
Dangerous in a way that made my breath catch.
“Good morning to you too,” I said flatly.
A corner of his mouth twitched. “If that’s your idea of a good morning, you’re worse off than I thought.”
I stepped toward him before I could stop myself. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“You never do.” His gaze flicked to my feet, then my shoulders. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks—anger, embarrassment, something else I refused to name.
Students nearby whispered.
They’d never seen me lose focus.
Not until Liam walked in.
Before I could respond, a bright, melodic voice cut through the air.
“Liam!”
LiLa.
She approached with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much attention she commanded. Her long red hair caught the morning light like fire, cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes shimmered faintly with magic—controlled, elegant, intentional.
She didn’t look at me.
Her entire focus was on Liam.
“You didn’t tell me you were back,” she said, stepping close enough that her perfume brushed the air between them. “I would’ve met you at the gates.”
Liam didn’t pull away.
He didn’t lean in either.
He just… watched me.
LiLa noticed.
Of course she did.
Her smile sharpened, but she still didn’t acknowledge me.
And then—
“Lila, wait!”
A girl hurried after her, clutching a stack of books to her chest.
Amara Lorne.
The next Royal Witch.
LiLa’s best friend.
Quiet.
Nerdy.
Invisible to most people.
Her dark hair was braided neatly, her robes slightly too big for her small frame.
“Sorry,” she whispered to LiLa. “I—I overslept.”
LiLa didn’t scold her. She just looped her arm through Amara’s and pulled her closer.
“Come on,” she said. “You can watch Liam destroy someone.”
Amara’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not here to watch anyone destroy anyone.”.
Before I could decide whether to roll my eyes or walk away, a familiar voice called out behind me.
“Kiara!”
Oliver jogged across the field, golden hair catching the sunlight, uniform perfect, smile warm. The future Alpha King. The boy everyone said I was destined for.
The whispers followed him everywhere.
“They’re the perfect couple.”
“She’s definitely his mate.”
“They’ll rule together one day.”
“Future king and queen.”
“She’s the next target, you know.”
“The Vampire King always goes after the true mate of the future king.”
That last whisper hit harder than the rest.
I kept my chin high, just like my father taught me.
Oliver reached my side, slightly out of breath. “You started without me.”
“You were late,” I said.
He grinned. “I’m never late. I’m fashionably delayed.”
Liam snorted. “You’re slow.”
Oliver shot him a look. “Good to see you too, cousin.”
The tension between them crackled—familiar, sharp, brotherly in a way that made my chest ache with memories of the three of us as kids.
Before everything got complicated.
Oliver turned back to me. “Ready for training?”
I nodded, even though my pulse was still racing from Liam’s sudden appearance.
Coach Rowan blew his whistle. “Pairs! Move!”
Oliver was paired with Marcus.
LiLa practically sprinted to Liam’s side.
Amara hovered behind her, clutching her books like a shield.
And I—
“Kiara, with Elias!” Rowan barked.
Elias was a good partner—disciplined, focused, predictable. We fell into rhythm quickly, blocking and striking with practiced ease.
But my attention kept drifting.
To the next mat.
To LiLa.
To Liam.
She laughed too loudly.
Leaned too close.
Touched his arm every chance she got.
And Liam?
He let her.
Not because he cared.
Not because he liked her.
But because he didn’t care enough to push her away.
He’d always been like this.
A flirt.
A player.
Someone who didn’t take anything seriously.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Elias blocked my strike. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
But my wolf was restless.
My heart was loud.
And Liam’s presence was a storm I couldn’t ignore.
After drills, Rowan called for sparring rounds. I stepped into the ring, rolling my shoulders, ready to prove—to myself, to everyone—that I was still the best.
Then Liam stepped in opposite me.
My breath caught.
I glanced instinctively toward Oliver—just for a second, just long enough to steady myself.
Liam saw it.
His jaw tightened.
“You run to him every time,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Try staying in the ring.”
The words hit harder than any punch.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
He dropped into a fighting stance.
I mirrored him.
LiLa folded her arms, watching with interest—not malice, not jealousy, but something calculating.
Amara stood beside her, wide‑eyed, clutching her books tighter.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
Then Liam moved.
Fast. Too fast.
I blocked his first strike, barely. The impact vibrated up my arms. He pressed forward, relentless, forcing me back step by step. I countered, pivoted, struck—he dodged, eyes burning with something I couldn’t name.
Anger.
Hurt.
Something else.
“You’re distracted,” he said between blows.
“You’re annoying,” I shot back.
“Same thing.”
I lunged, sweeping his leg. He caught himself, but only just. His expression flickered—surprise, then something like pride.
“Better,” he murmured.
I hated the way my chest tightened at the word.
We circled each other, breaths harsh, tension thick enough to choke on. Students had stopped pretending not to watch. Even Oliver stood frozen at the edge of the ring, jaw tight.
I struck again—hard, fast, precise.
Liam caught my wrist.
Our faces were inches apart.
My breath hitched.
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second—just long enough to hurt.
Then he released me and stepped back.
“That’s enough,” he said quietly.
I didn’t know if he meant the sparring or the way I was looking at him.
Before I could speak, the academy bell rang, sharp and echoing across the field.
Liam’s gaze lingered on me for one last, unreadable moment.
Then LiLa slipped her arm through his—not possessive, but confident—and guided him toward the main building.
Amara followed them, glancing back at me once, her expression unreadable.
Oliver stepped to my side, concern etched across his features. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah,” I lied. “Let’s go.”
As we headed toward the entrance, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the first day of school had just become far more complicated than I ever expected.
