Adrian's boots crunched on the frost-dusted courtyard, his breath fogging in the pre-dawn chill. The coded letter and ledger, tucked inside his boot, felt like lead weights. His research paper on vault wards was nearly done, a ticket to the coronation court if Elara deemed it worthy. But Cassian's latest break-in had left him rattled. The Dravens weren't just watching—they were closing in.
He hadn't slept, his mind churning with plans and paranoia. Lira's loyalty was a lifeline, but Toren's motives were still a haze. The ledger Toren had swiped was gold, proof of Draven bribes to Lord Kael, but it wasn't the vault's final evidence. Adrian needed that to clear his family's name, and time was a thief.
In the lecture hall, Elara collected papers with her usual steel gaze. Adrian handed his over, heart pounding. He'd woven conduit theory into a vault ward analysis—technical enough to impress, subtle enough to hide his true aim. Cassian, across the room, smirked as he submitted his own, his eyes promising trouble.
"Results tomorrow," Elara said. "Top three join the coronation court. Don't disappoint."
Adrian's stomach twisted. The court was his shot at the vault, but Cassian's smirk said he'd rigged the game. Again.
Outside, Lira caught up, her scarf slipping as she jogged. "You look like you're about to snap," she said, breath clouding. "Paper went okay?"
"Maybe," Adrian muttered, scanning the crowd for Cassian's lackeys. "If Cassian doesn't bribe someone to burn it."
She grabbed his arm, stopping him. "You're not alone, Adrian. I saved your letter, remember? Trust us—Toren, too."
Her words stung, warm and sharp. He wanted to trust, but the Valorian fall had taught him better. Friends turned when the wind shifted. "I hear you," he said, voice tight. "But I'm not good at leaning on people."
Lira's eyes softened. "Learn. Or you'll break."
Before he could reply, Toren appeared, his cloak flapping. "Trouble," he hissed. "Cassian's got a meeting tonight—Draven allies, some professor. They're talking coronation sabotage."
Adrian's blood ran cold. Sabotage at the coronation could destabilize the court, cementing Draven power. It fit their playbook—same as framing his family. "Where?" he asked.
"Old tower, midnight," Toren said. "I'm going to eavesdrop. You in?"
It screamed trap, but Adrian couldn't ignore it. "I'm in," he said, ignoring Lira's frown. "But we do it my way."
That night, Adrian and Toren crept toward the tower, cloaks blending with the shadows. Lira had insisted on staying back, guarding the workshop. Adrian's heart hammered as they climbed the spiral stairs, the air thick with dust and menace. At the top, voices leaked through a cracked door.
"…the coronation will shift the court," a man said—Lord Kael, Adrian realized, his voice oily. "Our move ensures Draven dominance."
Cassian's voice cut in. "And the commoner? Corveth's digging too deep."
"Eliminate him," Kael said. "Quietly."
Adrian's throat tightened. Toren's hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him. They had to leave—now. But as they turned, a floorboard creaked. The door flew open, and Cassian stood there, eyes blazing.
"Got you," Cassian snarled, flames sparking in his hands.
Adrian's mind raced. No magic, no weapons—just wit. He yanked a loose brick from the wall, hurling it at Cassian's face. Cassian ducked, but it bought a second. "Go!" Adrian yelled, shoving Toren toward the stairs.
They ran, Cassian's flames licking at their heels. The tower's narrow steps were a nightmare, but adrenaline carried them to the courtyard. They dove behind a statue, gasping, as Cassian's crew searched the shadows.
Toren panted, "That was too close."
Adrian's rage boiled. "They want me dead. And they're plotting against the king." He clutched the letter in his boot. "We need the vault—now."
Toren nodded, his face grim. "Your paper better win, or we're out of moves."
Back at the dorm, Adrian couldn't sit still. The coronation was tomorrow, and Kael's words echoed: Eliminate him. He needed a backup plan. He scribbled a note to Elara, vague but urgent: Draven plot, coronation. Check tower. If he fell, someone had to know.
Dawn broke, and the lecture hall was a furnace of tension. Elara read the results, her voice cold. "Third, Cassian Draven. Second, Lira Vey. First… Adrian Corveth."
The room erupted in whispers. Cassian's face was a mask of fury. Adrian's knees nearly buckled—court access, a shot at the vault. Elara's eyes met his, unreadable. Did she get his note?
Outside, Lira hugged him, grinning. "You did it!"
Toren clapped his shoulder. "Told you, nerd."
Adrian forced a smile, but fear gnawed at him. The court was a lion's den, and he was walking in with a target on his back. The letter, the ledger, the vault—they were his weapons. The Dravens thought they'd silenced the Valorians. They were wrong.