On week later
The Lycan Academy looked exactly as Iva remembered it.
The same stone pathways. The same ancient buildings. The same clusters of students hurrying between classes, their voices rising and falling in the familiar rhythm of academic life. It felt strange to be back—like stepping into a memory that no longer quite fit.
A week had passed since the trial.
A week of formal events, royal obligations, and endless traditions that had kept Iva busy from dawn until well past midnight. She had smiled at dignitaries, posed for portraits, and attended banquets where she was the guest of honor. Every moment had been filled with expectation.
But her mind had been elsewhere.
With the fugitives. With her mother. With the unsettled feeling that the danger was not truly over.
And with Cal
