4. 29,000 Cubic Yards Of Dirt

When she woke up again,the first thing she noticed was that the soft bundle of string pressed between her palms was gone—replaced by some sort of stone sharp enough to cut into her skin if the sting at the base of her palm was anything to go by.

Her eyes flew wide, registering Bellamy’s hand shaking her shoulder and the door opening behind him, a team of bustling nurses spilling inside, headed by a doctor with a clipboard.

She forced herself to sit up, staring into Bellamy’s eyes to keep herself from swaying with the intense bout of dizziness that tried to topple her from the side of the bed. He quickly dropped onto the bed beside her, winding his arm around her shoulders, his grip on her tight.

“It’s a surrogate thing,” he explained, when it seemed like one of the nurses was about to ask him to move.

Isobel slipped her hands beneath her thighs, hiding the stone that still dug into her skin.

“I see you’re awake, Miss Carter.” The doctor introduced herself as one of the nurses began to check her blood pressure. “How are you feeling?”

She dug deep into her lungs, suppressing the urge to cough. “I feel so much better, thank you.”

The doctor muttered something and checked her chart. “Any chest pain?”

Holy fuck, yes.

“No.”

“Sore throat?”

Like coughing up razor blades.

“Not really.” She cleared her raw throat, her face almost red from the effort not to cough. “I am a bit thirsty, though.”

Bellamy poured her some water and pushed it into her hand, buying her another minute as the doctor finished with her chart and nodded at them both.

“Well, we’ll keep you a little longer, but if you keep improving, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be released. We’re really not qualified to deal with Gifted issues.” She swept from the room without waiting for a response, her team following behind her.

Bellamy switched back to his chair, his posture slumping a little, the stress of their situation beginning to show on his face.

“Thanks,” she said with a wince, pulling her fist out from beneath her thigh and stretching out her fingers.

What … the fuck?

There was a large, blood-red gem in her palm, dipped in blood at the sharp tip, from where she had apparently gripped it too tightly, digging it into her skin.

“Um.” Bellamy stared at the gem. “What … the fuck?”

“Yeah,” she croaked.

“Yeah?” His gaze snapped to her face. “Not the ‘yeah’ again, Carter. Actually what the fuck?”

She turned the gem around, tumbling it from one palm to the other, catching sight of the slightly golden light that twinkled out of it at different angles.

“I think … it’s the artefact,” she said, dropping it to her lap and shoving off her blanket.

“What artefact? What are you looking for?”

“The red string,” she said, realising it had, indeed, disappeared.

Or … turned into a gem?

“What?” Bellamy said. “You’re doing the crazy thing again.”

“I don’t do a crazy thing.”

“Tell that to your imaginary grandpa,” he shot back.

“Grandpa?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yes?” a voice answered. A voice that wasn’t Bellamy’s. A voice that was, in fact, her grandpa’s.

“Oh, dear god,” she groaned, flicking her attention to the man now standing at the end of her bed, staring at her with a sarcastic look on his face.

“Well?” Buddy Carter prompted. “Grandpa is here, so what are you going to do with him, kid?”

She swallowed, looking back to Bellamy, who appeared even more confused. He blinked at the spot she had turned to stare at for a moment before raising his brows at her.

“Tell me you can’t see him right now,” he begged. “I’m not equipped to deal with hallucinations.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded before her body locked up. Her eyes darted to the door.

The last two times her grandpa had appeared, it had been in the presence of her father. She waited, her chest pinching, but Braun Carter didn’t barrel into the room.

“You expecting someone else?” Buddy Carter drawled. “If you wanted your mama, you should have asked for her instead.”

“Ground control to Major Carter.” Bellamy leaned forward and plucked the jewel from her hand, before hissing and dropping it again, staring at his fingers in horror, as though he expected the skin to be melting off or something.

“Fucking ow?” He stared at her in accusation.

“Sorry.” She scooped it up again. “I told you it was the artefact.”

“How does that explain how it just burned me?” he complained loudly.

“It’s a soul artefact.” She gently turned it before her eyes, enjoying the way it glittered in the light streaming through the window. “There’s no way you missed the one on my chest, so you already know I have one.”

“Yeah, hi, I’m Adam Bellamy,” he drawled sarcastically. “Icon kid who didn’t grow up in the settlements. I have no bloody idea what a soul artefactis, you nutter.”

She felt her mouth twitching up a little at the tone of frustration in his words. “Sorry.” She tugged down the top of her hospital gown, just enough to reveal the first few links of her chain. “You saw this at some point, right?”

He nodded.

“It first appeared as a chain, then one day it turned into this.” She released the gown, holding up the jewel. “Just like this appeared as red string before transforming.”

“Why did the chain fuse to your skin and this didn’t?” he asked, frowning.

She shrugged, before flexing out her hand and staring at the small injury the stone had caused. “They both drew blood, though.”

“None of the others got those,” Buddy Carter stated, looming closer.

She willed him and his riddled rambling to go away.

“Why don’t I know about this?” Bellamy asked quietly. “Surely they would have shown a magical chain fusing to your chest on camera. I remember seeing the piercing and reading an article about it—but there was nothing in there to suggest it was any sort of magical bond item. The article was about what that type of piercing was called, and whether it was the cool new thing to do.”

“Niko Hart was standing in front of me, blocking the cameras when it happened, and then we went into a bathroom. The officials don’t know it’s an artefact.”

“You sure about that?” He rubbed at his chin, a thoughtful look in his mossy gaze. “Teak got a good look when they first brought you in. I remember thinking at the time it was a little weird how long she stared at it.”

Isobel swallowed and then shrugged. Oddly, it seemed that she actually was beginning to feel a little better. She could sit up at least, and her eyelids didn’t feel like they were being weighed impossibly down. She was also desperate to pee. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned to face Bellamy.

Her grandpa seemed to have disappeared again.

“I’m not an anti-loyalist, but I don’t feel like being a science experiment,” she said plainly. “So can we keep this between us?”

She didn’t dare try to use her Sigma ability on him, not when she was so weak that she wasn’t even sure if she could stand without assistance.

Bellamy considered her for a moment. “You know, this summer break has been the worst of my life. When it started, I felt like I owed you for allowing things with Crowe to go too far. Now, I don’t feel quite so indebted.”

“I thought we were friends,” she said blandly.

He grinned. “You’re an emotionally expensive friend. You settled our debt in a matter of weeks.”

“Then make it uneven again,” she demanded. “This time I’ll owe you.”

“You got yourself a deal, nutter.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Want some help?”

After strugglingthrough the world’s longest and most laborious shower, Isobel felt stronger than she had in a week—but it was still a pathetic show of strength. She wasn’t coughing up blood and struggling to move her limbs, but she was still weak and exhausted. It had taken her almost half an hour to wash her hair with all the breaks she had to give her failing arms.

Still, these were symptoms she could easily lie about.

After putting in a fresh contact, she settled into bed, heaving out a sigh as she finally turned her phone back on. Since she began sharing a room with Bellamy at the start of summer break, she had taken to walking around with her contacts case in her pocket, so they were still there in the clothes she had been brought to the hospital in. She also had several sets stashed in her toiletries bag, which her father had tossed into her duffle.

After dinner, Bellamy had disappeared to go for a run, giving her some much-needed space as the phone in her hand began to vibrate. She sat there, waiting for the notifications to stop, but they continued for a good minute after her screen switched on. She watched the messages and missed calls stack up, worrying her lip as anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach. As soon as the deluge stopped, she navigated to the group chat with the Alphas.

Isobel: Hi?—

She backspaced, her fingers trembling.

Isobel: I’m sorry?—

She shook her head, deleting the words.

Isobel: I got my phone back?—

“No shit,” she grumbled, backspacing.

Gabriel: Hey, puppy.

She dropped her phone, heat flooding into her cheeks. Gabriel had seen her typing and deleting.

Moses: What?

Theodore: ??

Cian: Did she say something?

Gabriel: She was working her way up to it.

Kilian: Illy?

Isobel: Hey

Niko: Hey

Theodore: OH MY GOD.

Theodore: ARE YOU OKAY?

Elijah: According to her chart, she’s fine.

Isobel: Do you have cameras inside my room?

Elijah: Unfortunately, no. Also, hey.

Isobel: Hey.

Moses: Jesus Christ with the heys.

Mikel (admin): Send a picture please, Isobel.

Isobel: Of what?

Moses: Yeah, Mikki, of what?

Mikel (admin): Of your face. Shut up, Moses.

Isobel: Why?

Mikel (admin): I don’t trust you to answer honestly if I ask how you’re doing.

Mikel (admin): Picture.

Kalen (admin): He means now.

She frowned, pulling the phone up and snapping a quick picture of her face, punching the Send button.

Kilian: Oh my godddddd, the little pout.

Theodore: Aww, you guys should have asked nicely.

Kalen (admin): We’ll be nice once this shitshow is sorted and the group is back together.

Mikel (admin): Thank you. When did you eat last? It looks like you showered. Did you have help?

Oscar: Maybe don’t answer that question right now.

Isobel: No.

Isobel: I mean yes.

Oscar: Careful.

Isobel: I mean yes, I showered. No, I didn’t have help. And I just ate like an hour ago. And also, you don’t own me, Oscar. I can have help if I want to have help.

Oscar: As your owner, I say otherwise.

Kilian: He’s joking. Ignore him.

Oscar: I’m really not.

Theodore: You really are.

Oscar: You need fingers to text.

Mikel (admin): Next person to issue a threat is getting muted.

Cian: Hey, Illy.

Isobel: Hey, Cian.

Cian: I’ve missed that adorable pout.

Her fingers stilled, emotion climbing up her throat.

Isobel: I’ve missed you too.

Isobel: Something happened.

Oscar: What?

Elijah: When?

Gabriel: Just now?

Isobel: I found the red string in my bag and fell asleep holding it. Then … I guess it transformed? Like how the chain transformed.

She snapped a picture of the red jewel, which she hadn’t let out of her sight. Even in the shower, she had kept it as close as possible.

Elijah: Did you bleed?

She blinked at her screen.

Isobel: Yes. It cut my palm. How did you know?

Elijah: I’ve been doing some research, and an anonymous email address sent me some old religious texts concerning soul artefacts. They claimed that the gods gifted their bonded pairs with soul artefacts—but the real gift could only be revealed with a sacrifice, often a blood sacrifice. They aren’t supposed to be able to force people to bond, so this is their way of encouraging people to hurt themselves and possibly permanently mark themselves and accidentally form the bond in the process of trying to access their gifts.

Isobel sat back, digesting the information as she examined the jewel. Was the value of it the true gift? Didn’t the gods know who her father was? She didn’t exactly need gems.

Finally, she responded.

Isobel: An anonymous email?

Elijah: Well, she tried to remain anonymous. It was Maya Rosales, the Guardian.

Isobel: Why did she send it to you instead of me? You aren’t even registered as one of my surrogates.

Elijah: I stopped by the chapel before break and asked to see some of her religious texts.

Niko: Does the stone do anything?

Isobel: I think it made me a little stronger, but maybe I’m stronger just by having it near me. I don’t know. The chain healed my skin right after it cut me, so maybe this healed my sickness a little?

Kilian: You’ll be here soon, and we can figure it out together.

Isobel: You’re already at Ironside?

Theodore: Half of us are. They’re flying the different settlements in on different days. The European branch of officials are uptight as fuck about not letting us “disturb” the human population.

Kalen (admin): We’re waiting on Gabriel, Elijah, Oscar, Niko, and you.

Isobel: Why the change of location? Why split the show up?

Mikel (admin): They’ve outgrown the Stone Dahlia in Arizona. They needed something bigger and better. Nobody knew about it because they purchased and developed the land in secret.

Gabriel: Probably so that nobody would question why they were digging out a small town underground and meticulously reconstructing neoclassical chateaus back on top as though they never moved them in the first place.

Isobel: What’s it like?

She turned the TV on as soon as she typed the question and flicked through the channels until she found one covering Ironside. She almost dropped her phone as a drone flew over the new academy. Gone were the beautiful, rocky mountains and vibrant desert flowers set against the red dirt. The new location was flat and sprawling. The layout was meticulous—as though each perfectly square lawn, pristine row of hedges, and symmetrical white building facade had been pencilled in by the greatest—or cleanest—architects in the world.

Theodore: It’s … more.

Kilian: A lot more.

“No kidding,” she scoffed, her eyes widening on the TV screen as the drone flew across the middle of a large rectangular lake. It was set between two cobbled pathways, with perfectly tall fir trees lining the other sides of the paths. The dark green foliage was striking and lush, each tree shaped and trimmed to appear beautifully symmetrical. The centrepiece of the lake was a towering, white marble obelisk topped by an intricate finial, which was, in turn, topped by a brass equatorial sundial. The lake ended in a pillared white building, a smaller copy of the multi-storied structures she had caught a glimpse of toward the front of the property.

It was … stunning. And absolutely immaculate.

Isobel: I’m watching it on TV right now.

Isobel: Gabriel is going to love it there.

Gabriel: Bad puppy.

Isobel felt a low laugh trying to bubble in the back of her throat. She pulled her phone up again and snapped a picture of her patting herself on the head.

Isobel: Good puppy.

Kilian: Dies from cuteness.

Cian: Gah.

Niko: GOOD PUPPY.

Elijah: You’re in a good mood.

Isobel: I’m happy to have my phone back.

Theodore: You’re happy to talk to us again, admit it.

Isobel: I will not.

Oscar: You will.

Theodore: Soon, too. Like now.

Isobel: It’s becoming less likely by the second.

Mikel (admin): Don’t wind them up, Isobel. They’re being painful enough as it is.

Isobel: Fine, I missed you … all?

Kilian: The question mark?

Moses: RIP

Moses: Here lies all you thirsty bitches. Namely Cian.

Cian: Fuck off, namely Moses.

Kilian: Who are you so unsure about, Illy?

Isobel: Um, anybody who doesn’t want to be missed, I guess.

Kilian: So Niko and Moses, then.

Niko: Hey.

Isobel: I guess?

Niko: Hey!

Isobel: No?

Niko: No would be correct.

Isobel: Aww, miss you too, Niko!

She yawned, the adrenaline of speaking to the Alphas again finally seeping out of her body. Wiggling further down in the bed, she placed the phone where she could still see it and tucked the gemstone inside the shirt she had changed into, preferring to feel it against her skin.

Bellamy returned to the room, talking to someone on his phone. He dropped a small cup of ice cream onto the bedside table and nudged it toward her before sinking into his chair and retrieving a laptop from his duffle. He pulled over a high table on wheels, set up his laptop, and proceeded to ignore her as he tapped away on the keyboard, still chatting away to whoever was on the other side of his call.

They mostly seemed to be gossiping about the new academy. She listened for a little while, learning that half of the new Beta and Delta dorms were underground, but her attention slipped the more she tried to follow the conversation, and eventually, she felt her eyelids weighing down again. Bellamy claimed the ice cream she was too tired to eat, and she turned the other way, holding her phone close as some of the dread finally lifted from her shoulders.

Isobel wassure that having the soul artefact close was helping, but the difference was minimal, and the extra week away from the Alphas didn’t help. Still, she was cleared from the hospital, and the only thing left to do was to actually walk out. And to walk onto the plane—and then all the walking she would have to do once the plane landed. Bellamy stepped out the day before their departure to buy them both hoodies, caps, and facemasks. He kept his arm securely looped through hers all the way out of the hospital, and then all the way onto the plane. By the time he deposited her into the first-class seat the officials had arranged, he had been taking almost all of her weight. She was asleep in minutes, waking only when Bellamy decided to force her to eat something.

She fell asleep again on his shoulder in the shuttle bus to the academy and shoved him off when he tried to make her stand to leave.

“We’re here, Carter.” He shook her shoulder again, and she forced her eyes to blink open and narrow on the window. Everything was blurry.

“M’kay.” She wobbled to her feet and he helped her off the bus, both of them stumbling several steps as he tried to shoulder their bags.

They had barely made it a few steps before there was a hand on her other arm and a low warning sound that went right over her head. She swayed toward the familiar, gravelled sound as Bellamy stepped away from her.

Emotion swamped her from two different directions, briefly crashing down on her before the wave was pulled back, becoming oddly muted.

“We’ve got it from here.” Theodore’s beautiful voice was like music to her ears. “Thanks, Bellamy.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Bellamy sounded uncomfortable. “Um, she’s going to be okay, right? All the walking really took it out of her. And she still needs to make it through registration. Plus this place is huge?—”

“We’ve got it,” Theodore repeated, a little sharper, before he pulled in what sounded like an unsteady breath. “We’ve dealt with her bond sickness before. It’s okay. I’ll text you later to update you, if you want.”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess that’s cool. You good, Carter?”

Isobel peeled back her eyelids, blearily bringing Bellamy into focus. He had handed her bag off to Theodore and was shifting from foot to foot, glancing toward the curved driveway that dipped into a huge, gated entrance.

“Y-yeah.” She tried to wave him off. “I’ll be okay. I’ll text you later.”

He nodded, rolling back his shoulders. “Well then, catch you later.”

He strode off, and Kilian suddenly stepped in front of her, cupping her cheeks, his eyes drilling into hers. The bergamot and amber swirl of scent that wrapped warmly around her told her that it was just him and Theodore. She breathed deeply, and Kilian’s grip on her face softened, his forehead lowering to hers, their skin touching in the briefest press before he was drawing her tightly into his arms, pulling her feet from the ground.

“Hey,” he mumbled against her neck. “I’m so fucking relieved you’re finally here.”

He was wearing a short-sleeved, pale blue linen shirt with light grey, khaki chino shorts, and she didn’t realise until he was wrapped around her just how hot it was. She could feel the warmth against the backs of her hands, but she still felt cold in her hoodie and tights, her bones refusing to thaw.

Theodore wrestled her out of Kilian’s arms, pulling her into another hug that lifted her feet from the ground. He was also wearing chino shorts, his linen shirt hanging open around the collar where he had popped a few buttons. That was where she pressed her cheek as he hugged her, breathing in against his hot skin.

“Do you think you can make it through registration?” he rumbled, setting her down again far too quickly.

She shrugged and then immediately winced at the painful muscle spasm in her neck. “Don’t have much of a choice.”

“It’ll just be ten minutes,” Kilian promised, grabbing her hand, his strong fingers pushing between hers. It made her hands ache—because everything made her ache—but it was worth it. “And then we’ll hitch a ride on one of the golf carts—this place is so big, we have carts now.”

“They’ll have cameras on you the second you step in there,” Theodore warned. “They’re probably filming you from inside right now. They’ve been waiting for you guys to arrive.”

Isobel scoffed. “My first time at Ironside, I was in every cameraperson’s way. Now they’re waiting for me.”

“My advice?” Kilian pulled up the facemask she had tucked beneath her chin, arranging it to cover her features again. “Be stingy. Don’t give them too much. You don’t have to fight for airtime anymore. Make them work for it a little.” He tugged her cap even lower and then pulled her hood up for good measure, his lush lips twisting into a beautiful smile, which immediately crumbled. “There’s something else. We only just found out—he arrived a few hours before you did, but since he’s an official now, he’s supposed to stay off camera and not interrupt your airtime.”

“He? What?” She looked between Theodore and Kilian. “What official?”

“Cooper.” Kilian winced. “He’s the new Dorm A manager. Kalen’s been chipping away at him all break, trying to figure out what he’ll give up his contract with you for. Apparently, this was it.”

“Fuck,” she groused. “Seriously?”

“Kalen will tell you the rest—we were down to our last option. We blackmailed your dad with the footage we captured over the break, but he was willing to risk his reputation to keep some control over you—and Cooper is that control.”

She winced. “Sounds like my dad. So Kalen is my manager now?”

“We might have to go over this later,” Kilian interjected. “If we linger out here, they’ll send a crew, and we don’t want you fainting on camera. Not until you’re safe in your bed and they can assume you just needed a nap.”

She nodded, already dreading the walk to the gate.

“Don’t worry about Cooper,” Theodore said. “Moses and Oscar started a bet on who can drive him to quit first. I don’t think he’ll last long.”

“You’re underestimating him.” She sighed. “He works with my father every day. He just rolls with the punches and comes back with a slimy little spring in his step.”

“It’s no fun if it isn’t a challenge,” Kilian teased lightly, before adding, “You’re going to have to hold onto me, I’m afraid.”

“I guess things are still going well with Wallis then?” Isobel dug her sunglasses from her pocket, slipping them onto her nose as she glanced at Theodore.

The golden muscles in his arms twitched as he shoved his hands into his pockets, levelling her with an unamused look. The storm in his grey eyes was subdued, though there was a tightness about his features.

“It would appear so,” he drawled, his eyes flicking down to her shoes before crawling back up again. “You’re not hot?”

She didn’t have the effort to lie. “No. Have you gotten bigger?”

He grinned at her, his teeth a flash of brilliant white. “Probably. Have you gotten smaller?”

“Probably,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He had definitely grown.

His hair was a little longer, threatening to cover his eyes as it waved forward, the sides shorn short the way he liked. He brushed it carelessly back, and it settled into a relaxed tousle, a few strands falling down again to caress his dark, winged brow.

“The parking courtyards and helipad are all back there,” Theodore gestured behind them before he strode ahead of her and Kilian. “And these are off-limits, official spaces.” He flung his arms to either side, pointing out the buildings to the left and right, just before the gates, mostly hidden behind hedge rows and fir trees.

She ignored everything he pointed at, instead choosing to trace the broad, strong lines of his back, swallowing hard as she remembered their last night together. The night the red string appeared. Her heart was suddenly thundering in her chest, her eyes wide, her steps a little quicker, spurned by the butterflies in her stomach.

She had all but told him she had feelings for him—sort of—and they hadn’t spoken about it since. Not that there was much time between the shooting, her blackout period with her father, and the time she spent in the hospital—most of which she had been unconscious for.

Kilian must have sensed the nervous turn of her scent because he squeezed her reassuringly, releasing her only to tuck her hand into the crook of his arm, allowing her to lean on him as they approached the new entrance to Ironside. Theodore led them through the huge, wrought iron gates and into a beautiful courtyard, the paved road narrowing and continuing through the centre, and then on and on, as far as she could see.

“This whole area will be restricted,” Theodore explained. “But they’ve had it set up for registration all week.” He led them past buildings obscured by hedging and greenery, and to the end of the split garden, where the road sprouted off in several directions. They stepped into a building with a Registration sign hanging above the door. The cool air-conditioned breeze stirring beneath her hood yanked her right back to her first day of Ironside and how it had felt to walk into that giant building, knowing that privacy would be a thing of her past.

This time, the woman with the tablet didn’t ask for her name.

“Miss Carter, welcome.” The official up from behind her antique desk, bringing her tablet with her. “I trust you had a comfortable journey?”

“It was great,” Isobel said, feeling stiff.

Her first summer break at Ironside, she had stayed at the academy, wondering why her mother wasn’t answering any of her messages. The past couple of months had been the longest she had been away from Ironside in years. The longest she had been away from the cameras.

She suddenly felt nervous and awkward, unsure how to act.

Because, unlike last time, her every word now mattered.

This time, her aim wasn’t to be left alone and to fly under the radar. She wanted—no, needed—to be popular. Adored. Supported.

They were on a one-way track to either stardom or complete disaster, and even though their plan was insane and impossible, she had chosen it because failing with her friends seemed preferable to winning alone. Or failing alone, if the new version of the surrogate pills were anything to go by.

“Congratulations on your new private room in Dorm A,” the woman exclaimed, her eyes bright, her slight accent deepening as she beamed at Isobel. “I’m biased, of course.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her red fingernails tapered into arrow-shaped tips. “But I think the Dorm A here is just … magnifique.” She sighed dramatically, before flicking up her tablet again and tapping a few times on the screen. “Sign here to register that you arrived. Would you like me to organise a private tour of the new grounds?”

Isobel’s knee-jerk reaction was to say no, but she faltered, wondering if it might be a good opportunity for exposure. Her first “official” sighting at the new Ironside, out of her baggy disguise, on her own terms.

“What’s the time now?” she asked, glancing up at Kilian.

“Around seven,” he said. “Still have the whole day ahead of us.”

She turned back to the woman. “How’s this afternoon? Around five?” One of her father’s assistants had said that sunset was the best time to film outside … and this was the kind of nonsense that took up space in her brain, now.

“Perfect!” the woman exclaimed, tapping furiously at her tablet. “A golden hour tour! Will you be bringing any guests? We’ll arrange champagne and macarons.” She directed her adoring expression toward Kilian, before peeking out at Theodore beneath long, dark lashes.

“Uh, yes,” Isobel said, fighting the sudden urge to snatch the tablet off the woman and use it to smack her across the face for daring to?—

To what?

To notice the alphas?

“The golf carts can fit three in the back,” the woman said with a wink.

“Then I’ll be bringing two guests.” Isobel was starting to waver on her feet again, but she didn’t need to figure out a quick escape from the office.

Theodore shuffled her bag on his shoulder. “We should get going, Illy. All your stuff arrived and … it’s a lot. You’re going to be unpacking all day.”

“Do let me know if you need to make use of our interior design services or wardrobe organisers,” the woman—who Isobel assumed was either an official or a human hire, due to her lack of a rank ring—called after them as Kilian steered her to the door. “All the services cost popularity points, but you already have a few of those banked up.”

Theodore thanked the woman, and they spilled back into the sun. Isobel was grateful for her sunglasses as she spotted a camera crew making their way over, headed by a producer who was barking something angrily over her shoulder.

“Let’s make this getaway quick,” Theodore mumbled, leading them to one of the golf carts parked outside the office, the keys waiting inside.

Isobel pretended not to notice the crew as they sped past, turning her head to talk to Kilian, giving the frantic group her back.

“It’s so difficult to spot the cameras,” she whispered.

Kilian ducked forward, his lips by her ear. “They’re in here too. Top corners of the windscreen. I’ve found cameras everywhere in this place except the bathrooms and changing rooms.”

“Everywhere?” She pulled back, her brows shooting up.

He nodded, his full lips pressed together, letting his expression serve as a silent warning, and then he began pointing out various locations as they rolled down the paved road, through sprawling gardens and past stunning buildings, all in the same white, neoclassical French style of architecture. She didn’t pay attention to any of it, and eventually, her head lolled onto his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut.

“We’re here!” Kilian announced loudly, jolting her awake as the two Alphas slid out of the golf cart.

They were elevated above the rest of the academy, it seemed. High enough that she could see the surrounding township beyond the academy walls. She could only assume the hill was man-made since the landscape was so flat in every direction.

“Another Alpha Hill?” she asked, stumbling as she tried to exit the cart. How much dirt had they hauled in for that?

Theodore stepped in front of her, catching her elbow before tucking her under his arm and holding onto her tightly.

“You guessed it,” he said. “They recreated all the popular landmarks—although Jasmine Field is now Jasmine Court. And instead of Alpha Lake, we have Alpha Terrace.” He swept his arm out over the gardens that had been built into the side of the hill below them. Adorable, winding stone walkways trickled down to a lush oasis with a long, limestone pool. An elaborate, tiered fountain rose from the centre of the pool, erupting in dancing patterns of water that spilled from the limestone basin in a short waterfall.

There was enough space on the vivid green lawn for all the parties and events Dorm A was known for hosting. On one side was a natural stone retaining wall overgrown with ivy, looking like a remnant of a grand battlement as it curved around one side of the garden and merged seamlessly with the walls of Dorm A high above the terrace. The other side of the terrace was hugged by a wrought iron railing that circled the sprawling lawn, creating a magnificent lookout over the academy and the surrounding suburbs. It showed a hint of the wide river that bordered the academy on one side and the deep parkland that bordered it on another side.

Isobel was struck still with awe—and a feeling of strange wrongness. Ironside had always felt so isolated to her. Separated from the humans, from society and the outside world. Now she could see them. She could look out and know that they were watching her right back, on their TV screens.

It was an uncomfortable sensation, but not entirely an unwelcome one. It might help to humanise them, and they would eventually get to a point where they would need the people to see them as more human than creatures of the settlements.

Now that she really paid attention, she could see the cameras. Hidden amongst the greenery. On poles or stuck to the sides of buildings. Camouflaged in the hedges and winking from the stone retaining wall.

They were everywhere.

Her breath turned shaky with panic, but she bit back the sensation, following Theodore and Kilian to the front of the dorm. They had parked in a spot close to the pathways leading down to Alpha Terrace, and they walked back along the paved road now, which looped around another fountain at the top of the hill.

The dorm itself spanned three stories with a polished limestone facade boasting thin, marbled gold accents. Every part of the structure—save the doors and wrought iron railings—seemed to be constructed of the same gorgeous white stone. A grand, wide entrance with detailed Corinthian columns framed the short limestone staircase up to the double-wide doors. A pediment above the entryway sported a sculpted constellation, some of the details stamped with gold. She spotted small, wrought iron balconies along the sides of the building, framed by high, square-paned windows.

“All of the dorms now have an official manager,” Theodore said, stepping ahead to grab the door as Kilian drew her hand through his arm again. “Ours was finalised while you were flying, but you’re familiar with him.”

Right. Cooper.

She frowned at the sudden souring of Theodore and Kilian’s scents. Kilian’s free hand landed over hers, squeezing gently. It almost felt like a warning.

“Are you ready?” Theodore asked, now turning the brass door handle.

Hell no, she wasn’t.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, forcing her voice to sound excited.