When Casimir gets back as the sun is rising and slips into my room, I pretend to be asleep. He doesn't try to wake me or urge me to get up to go to school, and I'm glad. I'm not so sure I could face him after I found the fields empty last night.

He leaves shortly after for work.

I take my time getting ready, my mind a mess of emotions I struggle to sort through. For hours when I got back, I lay awake, trying to rationalise why Casimir would've lied to me, but I couldn't come up with anything that made sense.

If he has been going to the forge secretly like I was, why? Casimir isn't lying when he says we could use the extra money he gets from working. But if he isn't actually working any extra hours, where is he getting the money from?

The gun rises to mind. I haven't seen it since the day I found it, and Casimir certainly hasn't disclosed how he got it. The anxiety makes me nauseous.

When Professor Fin sees me in the doorway to class, I exaggerate my hobble as I move to my seat inside the class. His expression shifts to pity, and he ducks his head.

"Freya, I'm glad you were able to make it this morning."

I force a smile and hobble to my seat next to Cadence, conscious of the eyes that follow. I glance over my shoulder as he starts his lesson, resting on Killian's desk.

It's empty.

While I'm not surprised by his absence, I can't deny the slight disappointment. How did he know Casimir would go out last night? Why does he skip class so often? Why do I care? I wish I could rid my mind of him, but he's as resilient as a raging storm.

Professor Fin drones on about the upcoming quiz. It's standard around this time of year to be quizzed on the treaty, a mere month away from the Red Moon. It's supposed to be a reminder of the good things the shifters do for us, a reminder that without them, we would be unprotected. That's how I used to understand it, anyway. But not anymore. Now, it's a warning that we are powerless. That whatever happens during the Red Moon can't be stopped.

I stare out the window at the courtyard. The school buildings escaped the storm mostly unscathed, but outside, it's a mess. Branches have been torn from the trees like limbs, debris and mulch littering the land. When the class is sent out to help clear it during the break, Professor Fin dismisses me, eyeing my leg.

I slip out of class before he can change his mind.

It's mid-afternoon. I should head home. The healer warned me to rest my leg as much as possible when he visited yesterday, and Casimir made sure there was food in the kitchen before he left this morning. But I find myself walking through the centre village instead. The sun lingers low in the sky, casting shadows across the cobblestones.

Villagers linger in the streets, sweeping rogue debris and fixing broken, wooden signs. In the past year I've gotten good at ignoring the stares, but the eyes that follow me remind me of Killian's gaze—they're shameless, not caring if I catch them.

Did they hear my screams, too?

My feet have led me to Killian's street before my mind can catch up. I pause before rounding the corner; I hadn't meant to come here. The thought of facing Killian is terrifying because he has answers to questions I'm not sure I want to know.

Frustrated and familiar voices murmur towards me. Familiar voices. Frustrated voices. I frown, holding the side of the corner building and peering around.

Killian is halfway down the street half concealed by the shadows of the awning. Casimir stands across from him moving as he says something to Killian. I strain my ears, but it's too low. Killian reveals nothing as Casimir speaks, his expression neutral, posture relaxed. But I know Casimir like I know myself—I recognise the tension in his shoulders, the way his left knee juts out. They're arguing.

I lean closer, trying to listen to his words. The small movement causes me to catch Killian's attention. His calm expression doesn't change, but the moment our eyes connect, my heart skips a beat.

"It seems we have an eavesdropper."

His voice cuts Casimir off, who spins around, face clouded with anger as his eyes find mine. He tries to mask it, flexing his tightly clenched fist out.

"Frey?" he calls. I step out from behind the building, keeping my eyes on Casimir as I stop in front of them. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Professor Fin let me go early. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"They gave me the day off since I worked through the night."

The lie stings.

"It hardly seems fair that you're tasked with working all through the night," Killian muses, tilting his head as Casimir. "Don't you think?"

Cas forces a smile, grabbing my hand. "Why don't you wait for me by Fleur's? I'll just be a moment."

"I actually came to speak to Killian."

A dark expression crosses his face, like I've committed some sort of betrayal. "What?"

"We were done here, anyway. I was just headed to the bakery." Killian steps past Casimir, offering me his arm. "Shall we?"

I don't take it, conscious of Casimir's burning glare. "What're you doing, Frey?" he asks lowly.

"Catching him up on what he missed during today's class."

Killian hums in agreement. "I am very behind."

We stare at each other. I want to tell him that I know he's been lying, that if he'd just be honest, I wouldn't have to talk to Killian. But he just steps away, jaw clenching. I turn around, following Killian into the main street.

Killian walks with the kind of silent confidence that demands to be acknowledged. I can't help but watch him in my peripheral vision. He strides through Veymaw like he's lived here his entire life, and every single person that we pass raises their eyes to follow him.

"Where were you today?" I ask. "I thought teaching assistants were sort of required to show up every day."

"Are you calling me a bad at my job, Freya?"

I frown. "What you are bad at is answering my questions properly."

"Maybe you're just asking the wrong questions."

I stare at this side of his face, noting the way the sun shimmers against his black hair. "Aren't you a little young to be a teaching assistant, anyway?"

"I'm 21."

"That's only three years older than me," I say. Certainly, the youngest teaching assistant we've ever had in Veymaw. I think of what he'd said the last time I quizzed him about missing class. "What kind of business do you deal in? Is it to do with teaching?"

"Careful." He pauses, turning to look down at me. "Keep asking personal questions and I might start to think you actually like me."

Blood rushes to my cheeks as he steps back, a satisfied grin on his face. I start walking again to hide my embarrassment, even though he's already noticed the effect of his taunt. When he looks like he does, it'd be impossible not to be affected by his charm. But that's as far as any of this goes—I don't like him. I don't care about him. I don't trust him.

"While I very much enjoy your company, I don't think you wanted to ask me about business," Killian says, falling into step beside me again.

"You're right. I wanted to ask how you know Casimir?"

"What makes you think I do?"

"You were talking to him back there. It looked like you were arguing." Not to mention all the warnings Killian has given me that didn't prove to be completely false. "Let me guess, business?"

"You're a quick learner."

We arrive at the bakery. The door is pulled shut, but the wooden shutters are open. I peer inside over the counter. Amongst sacks of flour, Anton emerges. He grins when he sees me in the window, waving a hand. "Afternoon," he calls in a sing-song voice. "Got any coins for me?"

"Not today. Sorry, Anton."

"Coins?" Killian repeats.

"He collects counterfeit ones."

"And why would you have counterfeit coins?"

I boldly meet his gaze. "Sometimes I find them in the streets."

"I thought you a better liar, Freya, considering you do it so often."

His ability to see right through me is more than unnerving. "I'm not lying."

"I must be mistaken," he says, when we both know that he's not.

"Are you really not going to tell me what you were talking about with Casimir?"

"I assume you didn't follow him last night like I told you."

"No. But I went to the fields. He wasn't there."

"And where do you think he was?"

"I... I don't know." To admit it out loud is frightening. I trust Casimir more than anyone else in this world, and yet, I can't explain where he's been going. "Do you?"

His dark eyes meet mine. He's all sharp angles, from his nose to his jaw to his cheekbones, a striking combination that only draws me in. I wish I could read the secrets written in his eyes; the answers riddled in his words. But while Killian reads me like a book, he's a new beautiful language I don't speak.

Before he can say anything, a piercing horn echoes through the streets. The vaguely familiar sound sends terror stabbing through my chest. I spin around as villagers appear in the streets, exchanging worried glances. Behind us, Anton bumbles from the bakery, fumbling with his satchel, hands shaky. He shoves past us, towards the marketplace.

"What was that?" Killian asks.

"A summoning call. We must go to the marketplace."

I scan the people spilling into the streets, spotting Jakob with his mother, and he catches my eye, expression grave. I turn in the direction to where we left Casimir in the alley.

"Freya." Killian catches my wrist, his fingers warm even through the fabric of my sleeve. "What's going on?"

"The councillor. He's here."