POV: Rory Hale

The stares were worse than knives.

Everywhere I moved in the academy halls, whispers followed me like smoke. Heads bent together, voices went low, and eyes hungry, terrified, hateful to me as if I’d suddenly grown a crown of fire.

“They say she survived dragon fire.”

“No, it was the wolf. He lost control and she calmed him.”

“Look at her arm. The mark is real.”

“The Marked One…”

The words clung to me like a curse.

I held my books to my chest and ...