“He's in his late thirties! Lori is eighteen!”
Avalon was silent for a moment.
“And yet the thread connects them. The Moon Goddess does not make mistakes.”
Iva wanted to argue. Wanted to scream. Wanted to grab the glowing red thread with both hands and rip it apart.
But she couldn't.
Because Avalon was right.
The thread did not lie.
And Lori—sweet, kind, wonderful Lori—was fated to the most intimidating man on the entire campus.
Headmaster Attia's lips moved, still delivering his speech, but Iva heard none of it. The words washed over her like water over stone, meaningless and distant.
All she ould see were his eyes.
All she could feel was the weight of his gaze.
She realized, with a start, that he knew.
Not about the thread—he couldn't see that. But he knew that something was
