Page 44 of Heir of Shadows

“And we can practice together,” Raven added. “The garden’s perfect for studying in the evenings.”

I hadn’t expected their immediate support. After so many years hiding what I could do, having friends who understood—whowantedto help—still felt surreal.

The cat’s form dissolved as the lesson ended, my magic releasing it smoothly. But I felt other presences watching, approval echoing from the generations who had stood in this same room before me.

I wasn’t just surviving here. I was learning tobelong.

The violin musiccaught me off guard—haunting and beautiful, drifting through the royal wing’s early morning silence. I paused on the stairs, trying to trace its source, but the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Scout tilted his skull, tail twitching in slow rhythm, as the melody faded.

For once, I’d actually woken up early. The massive breakfast table stretched before me, silver serving dishes steaming with their usual excessive display. Without the weight of the other heirs’ stares, I found myself gravitating toward the pastry section.

“Just this once,” I told Scout, piling my plate with chocolate croissants, cream-filled danishes, and what looked like lemon tarts. My mother would have been horrified at the excess, but after a week of eating just one pastry under their judgmental gazes, the abundance was too tempting to resist.

I settled into my usual spot, relishing the quiet. The first bite of buttery pastry melted in my mouth, and for a brief moment, I found peace in the middle of the battlefield.

Scout investigated the table’s elaborate centerpiece, his crooked black bow tie bobbing proudly with each step. His delicate bones cast intricate, twitching shadows across the tablecloth—like a lace cutout come to life. The dead things whispered contentedly in the walls.

Then footsteps.

Cyrus strode in, fresh from his morning workout and an even more recent shower, wearing only loose training pants and—dear god—no shirt. His copper hair was still damp, and water droplets trailed slowly down his chest, catching the light. Overhead, Ember circled lazily, his flames casting a golden glow that highlighted every sculpted line of muscle.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep chewing. My mouth had gone dry.

He stopped short at the sight of me, genuine surprise breaking through his usual mask of indifference. “You’re… early.”

I made a point of taking another bite of my pastry, willing my face to stay neutral.

The temperature in the room rose slightly as he moved toward the coffee pot. I caught him eyeing my plate of sweets, and for a fleeting moment, something like longing crossed his face.

The violin music drifted through again, closer this time, and I couldn’t help asking. “Do you know where that’s coming from?”

Cyrus shrugged, pouring his coffee. But as he took a sip, he grabbed a chocolate croissant with practiced nonchalance, as if hoping I wouldn’t notice.

“The trials start Monday,” he said, voice casual, but there was a weight behind it. As if he was reminding both of us that whatever this was, whatever uneasy truce lingered between us, it would be short-lived.

Before I could answer, Elio swept in—and for the first time, he wasn’t perfectly put together. His usual artfully tousled hair was actually messy, and Echo’s scales cycled through unsettled patterns. He must have been running late, something that almost made me smile.

“Well, well,” he drawled, though it lacked his usual polish. “Someone’s been holding out on us. Sweet tooth, darling?”

I leaned back in my chair, unbothered. “At least I’m on time.”

Cyrus snorted into his coffee, and Elio’s illusions wavered just enough to show a hint of color in his cheeks.

“Some of us have better things to do than arrive early just to hoard pastries,” Elio said smoothly. “Or perhaps just enjoying the view with your breakfast?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

Scout let out a tiny chitter and dramatically covered his eye sockets with his tiny skeletal paws, as if scandalized.

“Oh, please,” I muttered, but I kept my eyes firmly on my plate.Definitely not looking.

Cyrus exhaled sharply, irritated. “Some of us actually train in the morning,” he muttered, but the effect was somewhat undermined by the pastry flakes now clinging to his chest.

“The violin music earlier was beautiful,” I said, watching their reactions. “Does anyone here play?”

Elio’s teasing smile slipped for just a fraction of a second. Echo’s scales turned stormy gray, and Ember’s flames flickered uncertainly. That was interesting.

“I should get dressed,” Cyrus muttered, grabbing another pastry.

“Yes, please do,” Elio replied silkily. “Though I’m sure some of us are enjoying the current view.”

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