Avyaane’s POV

The morning after the balcony incident, Blair was silent. Not his usual smirking, teasing self, but cold and watchful, like a predator that had scented danger and couldn’t decide where it was coming from.

I tried talking over breakfast, but his responses were clipped. One-syllable. Eyes always moving toward the windows, the door, the guards posted in his wing.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked, setting down my fork.

He didn’t look up. “Eat. You’ll ...