MELISSA’S POV

My hand is still trembling, though I tell myself it’s only due to exhaustion; however, I can still feel the phantom weight of Joem’s hand on my wrist, the echo of his voice when he said my name, my real name.

It’s strange how survival changes a person. I used to think pain was my enemy. Now, I wear it like armor.

When I first came to the academy, I couldn’t hold a blade without shaking. The boys laughed, the instructors ignored me, and I was branded “weak.” Every day was a battle against being seen, and every night was a war against being found out.

But I...