The air in the pocket was turning stale.

Every breath tasted like chalk and copper. The subterranean cold of the collapsed transit hub seeped through the cracked concrete, biting directly into Amara’s bones.

She sat huddled in the dark, her injured leg stretched out stiffly in front of her. The bandage Arthur had applied was already soaked through, the wet heat of her own blood sticking to her skin. Her teeth clicked together in a rapid, uncontrollable rhythm.

She shifted across the gravel, pressing her shoulder firmly against Arthur’s arm.

He was radiating heat like a furnace, a sharp contrast to the freezing dampness of the ruins. Amara curled her fingers into the fabric of his sleeve, drawing her knees up to preserve whatever core temperature she had left.

Arthur sat with his head resting against the stone wall, his breathing slow and regulated. He let her lean into his space, absorbing the warmth, completely unbothered by her sudden proximity.

A heavy, rhythmic thud echoed through the stone.

Amara flinched.

THUD. THUD.

A massive web of frost bloomed across the concrete wall to their left. The stone hissed as the temperature rapidly plummeted, turning the reinforced concrete brittle.

CRACK.

The wall exploded inward.

Amara buried her face against Arthur’s shoulder as a wave of freezing air and shattered stone blasted into the tiny cavern. A harsh, pale blue light flooded the darkness.

Alicia stood in the breach, her silver hair coated in dust. Her staff glowed with intense, concentrated frost magic.

Emily shoved her way through the jagged opening right behind her.

"Arthur, are you—"

Emily stopped short. Her golden eyes darted around the tiny cavern, instantly locking onto the Vice President.

Amara Harper, the ruthless dictator of the Student Council, looked small. Her glasses were broken, her face smeared with ash. She was clinging tightly to Arthur’s arm, her face tucked against his chest to hide from the glare of Alicia’s staff.

Arthur blinked against the bright light and brushed a layer of dust off his shoulder.

"Took you long enough," Arthur said.

He slid one arm behind Amara’s back and the other beneath her knees, standing up in one fluid motion. He lifted the Vice President off the ground. Amara went limp against his chest, her hands gripping his collar tightly as she kept her eyes shut.

Emily stared, her jaw clenching. Seeing the arrogant Vice President completely pliant and relying on her brother sent a sharp, territorial spike straight through Emily’s chest.

"Medical is waiting at Sector 4 command," Alicia said. Her icy blue eyes narrowed, studying Amara’s trembling form before flicking to Arthur’s calm face.

"Lead the way," Arthur replied, stepping easily through the breach.

The fluorescent lights of the Sector 4 medical tent were blinding.

The room buzzed with chaotic energy. Instructors argued loudly over telemetry data and safety overrides near the entrance.

Amara sat on the edge of a steel medical cot. A high-tier healer pressed glowing green hands against her thigh, knitting the deep laceration back together.

She stared blankly at the linoleum floor. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating wave of exhaustion.

Instructor Hall stepped up to the foot of the cot. Her combat boots planted firmly on the floor. She held a tactical datapad, her red eyes sharp and entirely devoid of sympathy.

"I need your preliminary field report," Samantha demanded, her voice cutting through the noise of the tent. "Telemetry shows you dumped your entire mana reserve in the first twenty minutes. Then, the squad failed to hold Grid 6 during the swarm override. Explain."

Amara’s throat tightened. The entire tent seemed to quiet down.

If she admitted she panicked, the Student Council would eat her alive. The inevitable comparisons to her sister would crush whatever reputation she had left.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her dry throat.

Arthur pushed off the wall.

He stepped directly into Samantha’s line of sight, placing himself between the Instructor and Amara.

"The structural integrity of the transit hub was compromised before the swarm even engaged us, Instructor," Arthur stated smoothly.

"The Vice President recognized the foundation was failing," Arthur continued, his voice calm and carrying absolute conviction. "She expended her mana reserve reinforcing the primary load-bearing pillars to buy the squad time to retreat. The collapse was an environmental anomaly, not a command failure."

Amara looked up, her storm-grey eyes widening.

He was completely fabricating a tactical report to an S-Class instructor to save her pride.

Samantha’s red eyes flicked to Arthur. A silent conversation passed between them. Samantha saw the dust, the blood, and the raw shift in the power dynamic. She recognized the desperate reliance in Amara’s posture.

Samantha tapped her stylus against the pad. She looked back at Amara.

"Is Cadet Ludwig’s assessment accurate, Vice President?" Samantha asked, her tone entirely neutral.

Amara looked at Arthur’s broad back. He was offering her a lifeline, and taking it meant her flawless reputation was now entirely in his hands.

"Yes," Amara said, her voice quiet but steady. "Cadet Ludwig’s assessment is accurate."

Samantha logged the entry. "Understood. The squad is dismissed."

The dormitories were dead quiet.

Arthur stepped out of the hot shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist. The scalding water had finally stripped the thick layer of concrete dust and dried blood from his skin.

He dried his hair with a smaller towel and walked into his bedroom.

Emily was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She had changed out of her tactical uniform into a pair of tight black leggings and an oversized academy sweater. Her arms were crossed, her posture rigid.

"You left your balcony unlocked," Emily said, her golden eyes tracking the water droplets sliding down his chest.

"It’s the third floor, Emily. I figured I was fine," Arthur replied, walking to his dresser. "It’s been a long day."

Emily stood up, closing the distance between them. She stopped just inches from his bare back.

"What happened in that rubble, Arthur?" Emily demanded. Her voice was low and confrontational. "I know Amara Harper. If you were trapped under there with her, she should have been screaming at you. Pulling rank. Blaming you."

Emily took a step closer, tilting her head up to glare into his eyes.

"But she was hiding behind you," Emily continued, her voice tightening. "She let you speak for her to Instructor Hall. I saw the way she looked at you in the medical tent."

Arthur turned around, leaning his lower back against the dresser. He crossed his arms, looking down at his sister with a lazy, tired smirk.

"You’re tracking her eye contact now?" Arthur asked.

"Don’t deflect," Emily hissed, stepping directly into his space. Her hands came up, pressing flat against his bare chest to emphasize her point. "She was looking at you like you own her. And you lied to Instructor Hall to protect her."

Arthur looked down at her hands resting on his chest, then back up to her glaring golden eyes. The sweet scent of vanilla radiating from her skin mixed with the lingering humidity of his shower.

"Are you interrogating me as the Student Council Secretary, or as my sister?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping into a low, vibrating rumble.

Emily’s breath hitched. Her fiercely protective instincts collided violently with the heat radiating from his damp skin. She meant to push him away, but her fingers curled slightly against his muscles.

"I’m telling you to stay away from her," Emily breathed, her eyes dropping to his lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. "She’s using you."

Arthur let out a dry chuckle. He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind Emily’s ear. His thumb lingered, pressing lightly against her racing pulse.

"You have it completely backward, Emily," Arthur whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. "Now get out of my room so I can sleep."