Weeks slipped by as the air turned crisper.

  Luna spent her days studying, training her body—and arguing with Trey.

  PE was a nightmare at first.

  And second.

  And third.

  She was used to running from things—and certain people—not running laps. Two circuits and her lungs were ready to surrender. On non-running days, they made her do strength workout; she ached so badly she could've cried.

  Eventually, Francis took pity and kept poking her sore muscles with Quanta-infused fingers until the ache eased.

  Back at the dorm, Trey kept piling food onto her plate like he was feeding a farm animal.

  Exhausted from running. Exhausted from eating.

  But little by little, her body adjusted. Her jacket began to pull at the shoulders. The skirt pinched at the waist until she had to request a new size—to Mrs. Hobbins's great delight. When Luna caught her reflection in the mirror, something felt... different.

  She looked stronger.

  Maybe.

  "Look at you," Trey said, squeezing the new line of muscle in her arm. "Soon as I pass out, you'll be able to carry me."

  "I say drag him," Francis said, giving her a slow head-to-toe look. "And if you start losing weight again, I'm putting you on a four-meal plan."

  Luna could only wail internally. There was so much food here—nothing like her old life—and she was already stuffed beyond comfort.

  After PE came Basic Self-Defense. No weapons. Ermin insisted nothing was more dangerous than a fool with a blade. He drilled her stance, guard, and simple strikes. Trey played sparring partner until the motions started to s tick.

  Well... partly.

  The other half of the time he heckled everyone on the field until they were two seconds from a public stoning.

  "Let's see what our former skeleton can do."

  "Former skeleton?"

  "It's a compliment."

  She disagreed.

  Ermin, arms folded, rolled his eyes. "Less chatter, Lancaster. And keep your guard up."

  I brought you to teach the new kid, not to become the new kid yourself!

  Even playing around, Trey blocked Luna's punches with ease.

  "See? I'm kind of amazing."

  He would brag!

  "Shoulders a touch wider, Luna," Ermin coached.

  "Aim for the stomach," Blake added as he strolled past, biting into an apple. "See if he squeals."

  "Blake! Whose side are you—oof!"

  Trey folded, wheezing.

  "Nice," Blake said, giving her a thumbs-up.

  "Bend your knees a little," Ermin said, tapping her shoulder with a stick. "He's easiest to hit when he's talking. Wait for it."

  "I can hear you!"

  "I projected it."

  "Fine! Have it your way. Prepare to face my Thunderous Storm Fist, Luna."

  "You name your moves?"

  "He names everything," Francis called from a bench, flipping a page of his textbook with a sigh.

  "Brace yourself!"

  "That's enough! Blake, swap him out," Ermin said, done with the theatrics. One hand on his hip, the other catching Trey by the collar.

  "Huh?!" Blake choked mid-bite.

  "I was helping! You can't just bench me!" Trey flailed as Ermin hauled him off, leaving Luna with Blake—who, unlike a certain someone, offered concise, useful notes.

  "Higher here."

  "If you can't step back in time, drop under it."

  "Change the elbow angle—it hurts more."

  "I want to train too," Trey grumbled, chin in hand, sitting with Ermin and Francis.

  "Train what? You passed this class years ago. You're only here to pester people," Ermin said.

  Please go pass First Aid for once. Keats breathes fire in my ear every year.

  Trey opened his mouth to argue, but Francis shut his book with a thump and looked at him.

  "If you want to train that badly—train me."

  And his mouth snapped shut.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  A few weeks later, Ermin approached Luna with a rolled parchment stamped in wax. She'd passed Phase I of Basic Self-Defense and was cleared for field missions.

  The one grinning ear to ear, however, wasn't her—it was the handsome menace beside her, finally ungrounded from missions now that she'd passed.

  "Don't worry, Luna. I'll pick something suited to you. Nothing dangerous," Trey promised with a face she did not entirely trust.

  "You're doomed," Bluebell stage-whispered.

  "Hey!" Trey shot back. "I would never endanger my number one fan!"

  He promptly hauled Luna to the mission corridor—a long hall lined with pinned notices, some crisp, some yellowed, and clusters of students crowding around them.

  "There are this many?" Luna breathed.

  "Cascadia isn't exactly small. And this is just a slice. Starshade keeps plenty for themselves."

  She knew the system: villagers sent pleas to the Starshade Guild. The guild handled the worst, the rest trickled down to Elkington students, who went out posing as Starshade to gain experience.

  As Garrett had said—the school's true purpose stayed hidden. Outwardly, Elkington was simply a school for the gifted.

  "Plenty for a buffet. Go on—pick one," Trey said, pointing to the C–D rank board.

  She leaned in:

  -Repair rooftops in Thornreach.

  -Escort a cargo convoy to Windhollow.

  -Gather winterwort for the Medical Society.

  -Lost goat—please find.

  Her throat bobbed at the tougher ones. Trey plucked one free, eyes bright.

  "Oooh—convoy escort! Picture it: you and me fending off highway robbers. Might actually die!"

  "Put it back," she said through her teeth.

  "Fine, fine." He re-pinned it. "Goat rescue? You like animals?"

  "I don't wanna chase goats."

  "Picky," he sighed, scanning higher. "What about this—warehouse watch until shipment time?"

  "Any robbers?" she asked warily.

  "Please. You're with Trey Lancaster."

  Which is exactly why I'm asking.

  "Oh, and it's right here in Valebridge. Quick trip."

  "Doesn't sound too bad."

  Just guarding a warehouse—what could go wrong?

  "This one it is!"

  Trey slapped the slip onto the counter for stamping. The clerk, an elderly man behind a barricade of papers, peered over his spectacles.

  "Lancaster?" He squinted. "Since when do you take low-level missions?"

  "Low or high—it's still a mission, Mr. Cornwall. Also..." He nudged Luna forward. "I'm training a newbie."

  "Knew it! Pine Hollow snagged another this year," the man said, pointing his pen at her.

  "Two, actually."

  "Credentials in order, are they?"

  "Hot off the press," Trey said, handing over Luna's permit. Mr. Cornwall shoved his glasses up and stamped the slip with Starshade's indigo seal.

  "There. Now out—out! You're blocking my view!"

  Trey swept the paper into his pocket and hustled a dazed Luna into the hall.

  "Don't mind him. Old, mercurial."

  And forgetful. Easy to trick into stamping that Upperbeak mission.

  Trey's gaze flicked to the "souvenir" from Upperbeak for a heartbeat before he lengthened his stride beside her.

  "Go pack. We're off."

  "What—today?"

  "Yup. Just clothes for two or three days. I'll sort first aid and rations."

  Luna still looked startled but privately told herself she'd better get used to how abrupt everything was here.

  "Normally we'd take the academy's carriage into town," Trey said later, tying his laces in front of the dorm. "But with Trey Lancaster, we leave with style."

  She narrowed her eyes. "You do not get to carry me piggyback and run to the front gates again."

  (Yes, he'd once used her as a weight plate because she didn't finish her meals. Mortifying punishment.)

  "Hey, that was fun. But no—we're riding out."

  "You... have horses?" she asked skeptically as they walked toward the stables.

  Trey wore the face of a deeply wronged man. "Do I not look like a man with a horse? Is it the clothes? The hair?"

  "Trey!"

  "I'm not a horsebreeder—though 'Lancaster the Horsebreeder' has a ring to it—"

  A vein throbbed at Luna's temple. "Focus!"

  "All right, all right. I've got two in the stable today. Since you're broke, I won't charge rent."

  "How do you know I can even ride?"

  He stopped mid-stride, mouth half-open, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "You can't? That's fine. Ride with me. Princess style."

  Luna's skin prickled. "No. No, no—no. I can ride. I have ridden. I won't ride with you."

  "Huh. Didn't know your old place had horses."

  "I cleaned stables for pay. Got to ride sometimes."

  "Ooooh. Multi-talented orphan. My number one fan is impressive."

  She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly rattled backward.

  Not a fan—well, kind of—but surely not number one.

  The stable looked brighter than the first time she'd come—sunlight spilling through open slats. She followed Trey to a white horse freckled gray along the neck, where someone was cleaning its hooves.

  "Vet by day, doctor by night. When will you have time for me?" Trey asked.

  "Horses don't talk back," Francis said without looking up. "And I'm just checking on Lady Moonlight."

  "Lady Moonlight... your horse?" Luna blinked.

  Francis sighed, lifting his gaze like the whole world had wronged him. "I didn't name her."

  "My mom did," Trey said cheerfully.

  "You did."

  "Fine, I named her Lady Moonlight the Conqueror of Three Continents, and you just had to cut it short."

  Francis eyed Luna as if to say, Do you see my point, now?

  "Anyway, have you checked on Nightwind and Duskveil? I'm taking them out with Luna."

  Luna's eyes widened. "Lady Moonlight, Duskveil, Nightwind? How many horses do you have, actually?"

  And those dramatic names!

  Francis stroked Lady Moonlight's smoky mane. "Two. He gave me this one."

  "My mom gave it to you."

  "Stop bringing your mother into this—you're confusing Luna!" Francis snapped, but Trey only grinned, eyes gleaming.

  "With you two, I'm always confused," Luna said dryly.

  "It's your fault, Trey," Francis grumbled. "He has three in total. His mother insisted he gift me one."

  Trey poked Francis's shoulder, wounded. "You dragged my mother in this time!"

  Luna pieced it together. "Didn't know you two were this close."

  Close enough to give away a horse?

  "We're basically brothers," Trey declared.

  "We are not brothers," Francis said flatly.

  "You come to my home every term break!"

  "Every. Other. Break," Francis hissed. "Because of your ridiculous pact with Reid."

  "Here's the thing, Luna," Trey said, straight-faced.

  Luna knew instantly the thing was gonna be some nonsense.

  "Reid and I take turns bringing him home, because his house is basically a graveyard."

  Remind me again why do I need to know this?

  "Bedtime story over?" Francis said dryly. "You leaving today or not? Nightwind and Duskveil both check out."

  Please go. As far as possible.

  Trey nodded and headed for a dark bay mare with calm, intelligent eyes. "This is Duskveil," he said, easing closer. "She hates being handled. Short temper—like Francis when we rearrange his medicine bottles."

  "Why rearrange them at all?" Luna asked.

  "It's fun," Trey said, wrestling the saddle as the mare sidestepped and flicked her tail until he huffed.

  "See? Regal and impossible."

  Luna smiled and stepped in—slow, quiet. Duskveil turned her head, ears flicking, eyes curious. Luna stroked the black mane, then loosened the girth a notch.

  "Too tight. She doesn't like it."

  The mare exhaled and settled. She stood perfectly still as Luna mounted.

  "Duskveil! Why are you fine with her?"

  "She's fine with everyone but you!" Francis shouted from behind the haystack.

  "You're loud. She doesn't like loud," Luna said.

  "Is that... personal?"

  She couldn't help laughing at his hands-on-hips glare.

  "Duskveil?"

  Denied satisfaction, he addressed the mare directly. She slid him a look and turned her head away.

  He flounced off to the next stall in theatrical sulk.

  "Come here, Nightwind, devastatingly handsome heart-stealer. Don't you mind those treacherous ladies."

  On cue, the dapple-gray stallion stretched forward and nuzzled Trey's hair.

  "He really likes you," Luna said, smiling.

  "Obviously. He's my favorite son."

  Nightwind nickered as if to agree.

  "Both of you," Francis observed, "too loud."

  "Both of us," Trey corrected, swinging into the saddle, "too dashing."