Page 46 of Heir of Shadows

The dead things murmured warnings. And for the first time, I listened.

Lunch with Ravenand Lucas had almost felt normal. Almost.

The dining hall buzzed with students, the scent of roasted chicken and fresh bread mingling with the faint crackle of background magic. I was mid-bite into my sandwich, actually enjoying myself, when a slow, creeping warmth curled around my skin.

At first, I barely noticed. It was September, and the hall was packed—body heat alone could explain the shift. I rolled up my sleeves and kept eating.

Then the warmth turned into a slow burn. My skin prickled. A bead of sweat trickled down my spine.

I set my sandwich down, pressing my palms against the cool wood of the table. “Is it just me, or is it—”

“Hot?” Raven frowned. “No, it’s fine.”

Lucas gave me a confused look. “Feels normal to me.”

A slow ripple of laughter carried across the hall. And that’s when I knew.

I didn’t have to look to know where he was. But I did anyway.

Cyrus lounged at a table across the way, perfectly composed, stirring his coffee like he hadn’t just turned my body into a damn furnace. His amber eyes met mine across the room, gleaming with quiet amusement.

The heat surged. My skin flushed, fire curling low in my stomach—not the good kind, the kind that made my limbs weak and my breath come short.

I sucked in air, but it was thick and stifling. My vision blurred at the edges. My magic stirred, instinctive, reaching for the cool touch of the dead things in the walls—fight back, they whispered.

I clenched my fists, pulse hammering. What could I even do in a room this full? Summon a dozen rats onto the table? Call up a ghost in the middle of lunch?

Scout chittered anxiously, his tiny claws digging into my shoulder.

No. Not here. Not like this.

But the panic made my control slip. Shadows curled unnaturally beneath my fingers. Plates rattled along the table. The half-eaten sandwich on my plate molded over in an instant, black decay spreading across the bread.

Lucas cursed and yanked his tray away. Raven’s eyes widened.

Laughter.

A single, sharp whistle from across the hall.Elio.

The temperature spiked higher—Cyrus’s final shove.

A small portal bloomed silently beside me, barely the size of a coin. Through it flowed a whisper of cool air, breaking the heat just enough for me to catch my breath. It vanished instantly, but not before Scout noticed, his tiny skull turning toward a far corner of the room. My gaze followed and I caught a glimpse of Keane, head bowed over a book, one hand slightly extended beneath the table. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes met mine for half a second before returning to his page.

I reached for my water glass—except my grip slipped, and suddenly, ice-cold liquid sloshed down my front.

A few gasps. More laughter.

I sucked in a breath, blinking down at my soaked shirt. The wet fabric clung to me, andof courseI’d chosen white today.

Across the hall, Elio raised his glass in a mock toast.

“Oops,” Cyrus murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

Raven was already grabbing napkins, muttering something murderous under her breath, while Lucas looked seconds away from hexing someone. But what could they do against heirs? Even the teachers looked the other way.

My hands curled against the table. My power still pressed at the edges of my control, itching for release.

And Iwantedto use it. Wanted to see their smirks falter. Wanted to watch them scramble when the dead things responded.

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