The kettle whistled sharply, slicing through the quiet of the sunlit kitchen. Rayna grabbed it off the stove before it could get any louder, pouring the hot water into a mug already waiting with chamomile and ginger slices. Her movements were slow, measured and careful not to trigger the nausea bubbling just beneath the surface.

It was day twelve since she submitted her application to Silvermist Academy. Not that she was counting. But she was. Every single minute.

She leaned on the counter, ...