I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into the dining hall for breakfast. Conversations died mid-sentence as students noticed me, their eyes tracking my movement with predatory interest. Phone screens angled in my direction, capturing my reaction to whatever fresh disaster had exploded overnight.
Roni appeared at my elbow before I could reach our usual table, her face pale beneath perfectly applied makeup.
“Don’t look at the newspaper,” she said quietly. “Whatever you do, don’t look at the newspaper.”
Which, of course, meant I immediately looked at the newspaper.
The Ashwick Academy Herald was displayed on stands throughout the dining hall, its front page dominated by a photograph that made my blood turn to ice. It was me and Alexander, but not from yesterday’s courtyard confr
