Three knocks in the dark

Lina POV

The stone bench at the edge of the royal academy's western gardens was always cold, even at the height of noon. It sat beneath the weeping boughs of an ancient ironwood tree, its silver leaves filtering the sunlight into fractured, pale shards. For three years, this had been my sanctuary—the one place where the suffocating weight of my family's expectations and the bitter whispers of the court couldn't reach me.

Today, after a month-long forced absence from the capital, it felt less like a sanctuary and more like a waiting room for an execution.

I smoothed the heavy wool skirts of my dark academy uniform, my fingers tracing the silver embroidery along the cuff that denoted my high-born status. A month away from these halls was supposed to have been a medical leave to recover from a sudden, unexplained illness—or so my father had told the headmaster. In reality, it had been a month of isolation in the damp, forgotten dungeon wing of my family's estate, a punishment for failing to secure the political favor my father demanded from the visiting dignitaries. My body still ached from the cold dampness of those stone walls, and my spirit felt as frayed as old lace.

A sharp, deliberate crunch of gravel broke the midday quiet.

My heart shattered a little further, an instinctive reaction I hated myself for. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. I knew the heavy, commanding cadence of his stride anywhere. I knew the faint, metallic scent of ozone and winter frost that always clung to his cloak.

Alex.

When I raised my eyes, he was already standing at the edge of the shadow cast by the ironwood tree. He looked every bit the future high commander he was being groomed to be—tall, broad-shouldered, clad in the midnight-blue and gold-trimmed doublets of the elite tier. His dark hair was swept back, casting sharp shadows over the aristocratic angles of his face.

But it was his eyes that cut the deepest. They were a piercing, stormy ice-blue—unnatural, luminous eyes that used to look at me with a quiet, fierce protectiveness, reflecting the winter magic bound to his ancient bloodline. Now, they held nothing but a cold, venomous malice that made my breath catch in my throat.

"You're back," he said. His voice wasn't a greeting. It was an accusation.

"I returned this morning, Alex," I replied, keeping my voice level, masking the tremor that threatened to betray me. I didn't rise from the bench. To stand would be to acknowledge the trial he was clearly bringing to my feet. "I see the academy hasn't changed much in a month."

"Don't play coy with me, Lina," he snapped, taking a predatory step forward. The shadows seemed to elongate around him, driven by the sheer intensity of his hostility. "You hadn't even stepped foot inside the dormitory before you found a way to inflict your malice. Why did you make Evangeline cry?"

The name felt like a splash of ice water against my chest. Evangeline. The commoner who had conveniently slid into Alex's orbit the moment my family's political standing began to waver.

I stared at him, genuinely bewildered. "Evangeline? I haven't seen her since the winter gala four months ago. I haven't even walked past the western wing today."

"Do not lie to me!" Alex's voice cracked through the quiet garden like a whip. He closed the distance between us in two strides, towering over the stone bench, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The raw anger radiating from him was palpable, a suffocating force that pressed against my lungs. "She was found weeping near the glasshouse not an hour ago, inconsolable, speaking of the cruel remarks you directed at her lower status. You have always envied her, Lina, but to attack her the moment you return from your 'illness' is low, even for you."

I looked up into the stormy ice-blue of his eyes, searching for a single trace of the boy who used to pull me into the library alcoves just to share a stolen sweet cake. There was nothing. Only a terrifying, unyielding wall of hatred.

A cold calmness washed over me—the kind born from having nothing left to lose.

"Alex," I said softly, leaning back against the cold stone of the bench. "Did you see me speak to her?"

He blinked, a microscopic fracture appearing in his rigid posture. "What?"

"Did you see me make her cry?" I repeated, my gaze locked onto his. "Did anyone see me? Better yet... did Evangeline explicitly tell you that *I* was the one who said those things to her?"

Alex opened his mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but the words died in his throat. He went entirely still, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle leaped in his cheek. He looked dumbfounded. For a fleeting second, the absolute certainty in his eyes flickered, replaced by a profound, jarring confusion.

I watched him closely. He was trying to think. He was trying to recall the exact conversation, searching his mind for the evidence he was so sure he possessed.

*Look at me, Alex,* I pleaded silently. *Really look at me. Remember who I am.*

For a breathless moment, a strange, desperate conflict waged across his features. His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths. It was as if his very soul, his instinct, was screaming at him that the girl sitting before him—the girl he had been betrothed to since childhood—was incapable of such petty cruelty. His heart was telling him to believe me. I could see the sudden, agonizing doubt fracturing his armor.

But then, the brief window of clarity slammed shut. The doubt vanished from his features as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a gaze that was darker, colder, and completely consumed by an unyielding bitterness.

"She didn't need to say your name, Lina," Alex growled, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a dangerous, unstable edge. He leaned down, cornering me against the back of the stone bench, his face mere inches from mine. The ozone scent of his frost magic flared, suffocatingly close. "She spoke of a girl with a black heart and a venomous tongue who thinks her birthright makes her untouchable. Who else fits that description in this academy but you? Your own family speaks of your wretched nature. Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?"

The words tore through me, sharper than any dagger. *Your own family speaks of your wretched nature.* He knew what my parents were like. He used to hold me while I cried over their cruelties. Now, he was using their abuse as weapons against me.

"You used to know my heart, Alex," I whispered, refusing to look away, even as tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I wouldn't let them fall. Not in front of him. "You used to know it better than anyone."

"That was before I realized what a fool I was," he spat back.

He straightened up, turning his back to me as if the very sight of my face made him sick.

"Stay away from Evangeline," he commanded, his voice cold, rigid, and entirely devoid of the warmth that used to define him. "If I catch you breathing the same air as her, or if she sheds another tear because of your existence, I will make sure your family's estate isn't the only place you are barred from. Do you understand me, Lina?"

I sat in the heavy silence of the garden, watching the broad expanse of his back. The boy who had promised to be my shield against the world had officially become the blade poised at my throat. I didn't answer him. There was no point in arguing with a man who had already written my execution order in his mind.

Receiving my silence as compliance, Alex didn't waste another moment. He strode away, his dark cloak billowing behind him, his footsteps heavy and hurried.

I waited until the sound of his footsteps completely vanished into the distance before I finally let my shoulders slump. A single, hot tear escaped, tracking down my cheek and hitting the silver embroidery of my uniform cuff.

I looked up through the silver leaves of the ironwood tree, the pale sunlight offering no warmth. I had survived a month of isolation, but looking at the empty path where Alex had just stood, I realized the true nightmare was only just beginning.