Page 22 of Darkbirch Academy

“Kieran Mazrov may look like a simple guard,” he continues, “but he’s more valuable to Heathborne than you perhaps realize. His death would have brought a level of scrutiny down upon your coven that you are not prepared to handle.”

The certainty in his voice gives me pause. “You talk like you care what happens to my coven.”

“I care about… balance.” He moves away from the table, selecting a heavy tome from one of the shelves. “The clearbloods’ crusade against your kind disrupts ancient equilibriums. Their experiments with Mazrov and others like him are... concerning.”

He places the book on the table between us, opening it to reveal pages covered in symbols matching those on my wrist. “Your attempt tonight was doomed from the start. Not because of any failure in your skills—which are considerable—but because your approach was fundamentally flawed.”

“So you decided to mark me instead of just telling me this?” I snap.

“Would you have listened?” His eyebrow arches slightly. “Or would you have dismissed me as another clearblood protecting his own?”

He has a point, though I’m not about to admit it. “And what exactly do you propose now?”

“Training.” He taps the open book. “These runes don’t just restrict—they also enhance. Your darkblood magic has raw power, but it lacks refinement. Precision. I can teach you methods that will make tonight’s crude assassination attempt look like a child’s game.”

I stare at him, trying to read past that impassive face to whatever lies beneath. “Why would you teach a darkblood how to be a more efficient killer?”

“As I said—balance.” His eyes meet mine across the table. “And because you intrigue me, Esme Salem. Not many would have infiltrated tonight’s gathering with such confidence. Fewer still would remain standing here, questioning me, after being discovered.”

There’s something in his gaze that sends an unwelcome heat through my body, entirely different from the burning of the runes. I force myself to look away, down at the ancient text.

“And if I refuse your... training?”

“The runes remain either way. But without proper instruction, they’ll continue to interfere with your magic in unpredictable ways.” He closes the book with a decisive snap. “More importantly, you’ll miss an opportunity to learn about Mazrov and the other experiments Heathborne is conducting—information your coven desperately needs.”

He’s offering me exactly what I came for, wrapped in terms that make it sound like he’s doing me a favor. The strategic part of my mind recognizes the value of an insidesource at Heathborne. The suspicious part wonders what he gains from this arrangement.

“What’s your price?” I ask bluntly.

For the first time, something like genuine amusement crosses his features. “Direct. I appreciate that.” He leans forward slightly, his presence suddenly filling the room despite the minimal movement. “I require assistance with matters that require... a darkblood’s unique perspective.”

“You want me to spy for you?”

“Think of it as an exchange of information beneficial to both parties.” He straightens. “Your coven seeks to understand and counter the clearbloods’ newest weapons. I seek to ensure… certain lines of magical experimentation are not crossed. Our interests align more than you realize.”

The rational choice would be to leave, to return to my coven and find another way to deal with Mazrov and the mysterious marks. But something keeps me rooted in place—curiosity, yes, but also a strange recognition. The way Dayn speaks of balance, of ancient magics that predate the blood divisions... it echoes to stories my grandmother once whispered to me, so long ago I hardly remember.

“One session,” I say finally. “I’ll try one session, and then decide if this arrangement has merit.”

Dayn nods once, his expression unchanging though something like satisfaction flickers in those inhuman eyes. “Tomorrow night. Same hour.” He moves toward the door, which swings open at his approach. “And Salem? Next time you attempt to enter Heathborne, use the eastern passage behind the groundskeeper’s shed. The wards there are weaker, and the guard rotation leaves a ninety-second gap every hour.”

He’s giving me infiltration advice for a fortress he supposedly serves. The contradiction only deepens my curiosity about what—or who—Professor Dayn really is.

“You will learn,” he says as I pass him at the doorway, his voice dropping to a near-whisper that nonetheless carries an undeniable command. “And next time, you won’t falter.”

Our eyes meet in the dim light of the corridor, and for a heartbeat, I glimpse something ancient and powerful shifting beneath his human facade. The marks on my wrist pulse in response, a warm current that travels up my arm and settles somewhere deep in my chest.

“We’ll see who’s teaching whom, Professor,” I reply, injecting as much defiance into my tone as I can muster.

His lips curve in the barest suggestion of a smile. “Indeed we will.”

As I turn away and head back through the darkened corridors, I’m acutely aware of his gaze following me. The stone walls of Heathborne seem to close in around me, whispering of secrets and dangers I’m only beginning to understand. Yet mingled with the apprehension is a treacherous thrill of anticipation.

Whatever game we’ve begun tonight, I intend to win it. Even if victory means learning to play by his rules—for now.

13

The chamber Dayn has chosen for today’s lesson is the same that he brought me to yesterday, lying deep within Heathborne’s east wing. I stand in the center of the room, my hands steady despite the quickening of my pulse. This close to Dayn, my every sense sharpens. Each of his movements could reveal something crucial, something I can use. The casual way he observes me tells me he’s either genuinely at ease or putting on a masterful performance. Either way, I’m here to learn—just not what he thinks.

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