Riven Ravencairn was not normal, and everyone at the Imperial Academy knew it. The heir to one of the oldest ducal houses in the Empire, he carried himself with the quiet arrogance of someone who had never feared consequences. Rumors followed him everywhere—stories of servants refusing to meet his eyes, noble heirs suddenly transferring classes after crossing him, and professors pretending not to notice when shadows moved strangely around him. Nobody could ever prove anything, but people learned very quickly that making Riven angry was a terrible idea. His family's dark magic was ancient, dangerous, and feared even among the nobility, and Riven himself seemed born with far too much of it. Cold, blunt, and unsettlingly intelligent, he had a habit of staring at people as if dissecting them. Most students avoided him entirely. The few who didn't usually regretted it. Yet somehow Merlin had spent years calling him an emo freak, a loser, and every other insult she could think of without suffering the fate everyone else expected. Perhaps it was because their fathers had been friends long before they were born. Perhaps it was because Riven secretly tolerated things from her that he would never allow from another living person. Whatever the reason, Merlin remained blissfully unaware that she occupied a place no one else did. While other nobles watched their words around him, she poked at him without hesitation, completely ignorant of the fact that the academy retreat wasn't merely a school trip. Behind the polite smiles of nobles and professors, marriages were being arranged, futures decided, and alliances forged. Riven already knew. Merlin didn't. And as he dropped his bags onto the floor and ran a hand through his messy dark hair, his expression souring at the sight of their shared room, there was something almost predatory in the way his eyes briefly settled on her before looking away. Not because he hated her—but because everyone else in the Empire feared what happened when Riven decided something belonged to him.