Chapter 8 — Secrets and Sparks
Part 1
The sun slanted low over the courtyards of Qasrat al-Jinan, spilling long bars of light between the glass spires. Students crossed the flagstones in laughing clusters, their tower badges flashing gold, silver, flame, and shadow.
Zamira lingered near the fountain, a small book pressed to her chest. Sirius walked beside her, hands in his pockets, silent except for the faint scrape of his boots. His silver hair caught the light like frost.
They'd just finished Advanced Magical Theory—two long hours of tracing sigils and listening to Master Valerius lecture about the "balance between origin and outcome." Zamira could still feel the chalk dust on her fingers.
"I swear," Sirius muttered, "if Valerius says 'balance' one more time, I'm throwing myself off the roof."
She snorted. "You'd land on a cushion spell."
"Still dramatic," he said with a faint smile.
The brief peace shattered when a voice called across the courtyard.
"Well, well… look who crawled out of the camp."
Zamira stiffened. The voice was smooth, mocking—the same boy she'd punched last week. Kael, from Flame Tower. His cheek still carried the faint yellow bruise. Around him lounged four others in red-trimmed uniforms, each wearing that same cruel smirk.
Sirius's expression didn't change, but she saw his hand drift slightly toward the hilt of his practice blade.
Kael sauntered closer. "Didn't think they'd let a little rebel wander around after attacking a noble. Guess pity counts as justice these days."
Zamira's stomach coiled tight. She forced her voice steady. "You want another bruise, Kael? I can make it match the first."
Laughter rippled through his friends. "Temper, temper," Kael said. "Wouldn't want your new mentor to see you losing control again."
He leaned closer. "I heard something about you, you know. A secret."
She folded her arms. "Then tell it."
"Oh, I could," he said, voice honeyed, "but where's the fun in that? Maybe I'll whisper it during Assembly. Or write it on the bulletin—'camp rat with delusions of royalty.'"
Sirius's tone sliced in, calm as a blade. "You're still talking. Impressive stamina for someone with half a brain."
The group bristled, but Kael ignored him. "I also heard your pretty little friends—Rosalith and Nova—spend half their time cleaning up your messes. Poor things. Always defending the charity case."
Zamira's jaw clenched.
Kael grinned wider, sensing the hit. "Don't glare at me, camp-rat. Maybe if you'd stayed in your cage, we wouldn't have to breathe the same air."
Her vision blurred for a heartbeat. Not from tears—those had burned out years ago—but from fury. The hum in her blood deepened, hot and metallic.
Sirius spoke softly, almost lazy. "You done? Because I'm running out of interest."
Kael sneered. "I wasn't talking to you, silver-tongue. Oh wait—aren't you from the Night courts? Makes sense you'd hang around with trash. Birds of exile flock together."
That did it.
Zamira stepped forward until the fountain's spray misted her boots. The gold sigil on her collar gleamed—and so did her eyes. Light, molten and dangerous, flickered around the irises like a storm trapped behind glass.
"Say that again," she whispered.
Kael hesitated, just a blink—but it was enough for everyone nearby to notice. The courtyard quieted. Even the wind paused.
"I said—"
"I heard you," she cut in, voice low and sharp. "And I've heard worse from guards who didn't live long enough to repeat it."
Sirius gave a low chuckle. "You might want to stop there, Kael. She's being polite. It's confusing her."
The boy's friends shifted uneasily. One of them muttered, "Let's go."
But Kael, cornered by pride, sneered harder. "Scare tactic. You think glowing eyes make you less of a—"
"Finish that," Sirius interrupted, tone suddenly icy. "Please. I want to see how far stupidity stretches before it snaps."
The gang fell silent. Kael's mouth opened, then closed. The golden light in Zamira's eyes pulsed once, bright enough to throw faint shadows across his face.
She leaned in, voice like a whispering flame. "You can call me whatever you want. But remember this, Kael: every time you look at that bruise, you'll know who put it there. And you'll know I was holding back."
Sirius added, dryly, "She's really good at holding back. Terrible habit, honestly."
Kael's composure cracked. "Come on," he snapped to his friends, backing away. "Not worth it."
When they were gone, the courtyard exhaled. Students began murmuring again, though many kept glancing toward Zamira. Her eyes dimmed back to brown-rimmed gold, breath shuddering out.
Sirius arched an eyebrow. "You know, you almost looked terrifying just now."
She tried to steady herself. "Almost?"
He smirked. "Fine. Completely."
She sank onto the fountain's edge, rubbing her temples. "I promised Valerius I'd stay out of trouble."
"Technically," Sirius said, sitting beside her, "you didn't start the trouble. You just… finished it with style."
"Obviously "