Page 5 of The Wolf Prince

Open door.

Repeat.

And yet somehow they've vanished.

And somehow finding them became my job.

See previous comments regarding my inability to say no.

“Randall?”

Nothing.

I continue around the side of the building.

“Evangeline?”

Still nothing.

I stop and put my hands on my hips.

“Where are you two?” I hiss into the night.

Silence.

I narrow my eyes.

Those little shits.

Okay. They're not little. They're seniors.

But I teach them, which means I'm allowed to think of them as little shits when they abandon their assigned posts and leave me wandering around in the dark looking for them.

I glance toward the athletic fields.

The Royal Academy is an enormous old mansion that's been refurbished and expanded over the centuries, and the grounds surrounding it are just as impressive.

During the day, they're beautiful.

At night? They're a little creepy.

Especially once you get beyond the athletic fields, where manicured lawns surrender to woods.

Ancient woods.

Because this is Castor's Corner.

There's always magic here.

You can feel it if you know what you're looking for.

Sometimes it hums beneath your feet.

Sometimes it prickles across your skin.

Sometimes the trees seem to whisper when there isn't a breeze to move them.

And sometimes the magic simply sits there, quiet, and watchful, reminding you that Castor's Corner was here long before you were born and will probably be here long after you're gone.