Page 61 of Heir of Shadows

Silverpine Pages folded around us, quiet and familiar. Dust motes drifted in the golden afternoon light, softening the edges of worn leather chairs and high shelves. It felt like a place half-remembered—warmth clinging to the silence like a memory that hadn’t faded yet.

“The owner’s a retired professor,” I explained, leading her to my favorite corner nook. It felt important somehow, sharing this piece of my world with her. “She stocks some interesting magical theory texts in the back room for students.”

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, taking in the atmosphere. Her eyes sparkled with quiet wonder, and I had to look away before I did something stupid. Scout was already exploring while Wisp curled up nearby, more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks.

When I returned with our drinks—spiced chai for her; I’d noticed her eyeing it at breakfast—the pain in my temples had faded slightly.

“How did you know?” she asked, surprised by the drink.

I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “You always smell the chai at breakfast but never take any. I figured you wanted to try it.” My hand found hers again, grounding me as another headache threatened.

She stared at me like I had just handed her something far more important than tea. Then she blushed behind her mug, and suddenly, the trials, Uncle, the corruption in my portals—none of it mattered.

“So,” I said, though I kept getting distracted by the way she licked a stray drop from her lip, “the problem isn’t with your power—it’s with how you’re accessing it. Most witches pull magic through themselves, but necromancers are different. You’re more like… a conductor.”

I sketched diagrams with my free hand, but my focus kept slipping. The scent of chai mixed with the warmth of her beside me, and my thoughts strayed to the way her lips had felt against mine.

“Marigold?”

She startled, clearly as lost in watching me as I was in watching her. “Sorry, I was…”

“Distracted?” I couldn’t help smirking, my voice dipping lower. She was close enough that I could see the freckles dusting her collarbone, the rise and fall of her breath.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away when I leaned in and kissed her softly.

The next hour blurred—theoretical discussions mixed with quiet laughter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of fingers that sent warmth curling low in my stomach. Scout and Wisp played between the shelves while I pretended my head wasn’t pounding.

Then, as she traced the edge of her book thoughtfully, she frowned. “With all these vampire attacks lately…” She hesitated before meeting my gaze. “Is Wyckhaven protected like the college is? With the wellspring and wards?”

I exhaled, sitting back. “The wellspring’s magic extends out, but it’s not as strong in town as it is on campus. That’s why there are extra protections in place.” I glanced toward the door, lowering my voice. “If a vampire breached the town, warning alarms would go off. People would have time to retreat inside before the Guard responded.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on her mug. “So it’s happened before?”

“Not in Wyckhaven.” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “But with the attacks lately, everyone’s more on edge.”

She absorbed that, nodding, but I saw the tension in her shoulders. I wanted to reach out, but what reassurance could I offer? That nothing would happen? That I wouldn’t let anything happen to her?

Walking her back through my portal to campus, I checked carefully before pulling her close for one last kiss. Reality pressed in again—Uncle would be furious if he knew, the trials were coming, and something dark was spreading through my magic. But her touch still felt like coming home.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For the chai. And the help.”

“Anytime.” I hesitated, brushing her cheek, wishing I could tell her everything. About how much worse the headaches were getting. About the true nature of Uncle’s therapy. I’d told her about the stabilization sessions, but not what they really cost me—how each one left me more hollow, more wrong. How scared I was of what was happening to my magic. Instead, I just asked, “Maybe we could… study there again sometime?”

“I’d like that.” She squeezed my hand once before letting go.

As I watched her walk away, Wisp flickering anxiously at my feet, my magic wavered, edges of the portals turning ragged. The therapy would help—it always did—but being with her made me wonder if stability had to hurt quite so much. For a few precious hours, I’d gotten to be just a boy taking a girl he liked on a date. No Council politics. No Uncle’s harsh lessons. No constant fear of losing control.

I just hoped I could hold onto that feeling when the headaches got bad again. When Uncle’s help left me too drained to pretend everything was fine.

I just hoped I could hold onto that feeling when everything else was turning dark.

30

Marigold

The arena hummedwith layered magic, old enchantments woven into the stone beneath my feet. Protective sigils flared along the edges, marking boundaries that had existed for centuries. Even the air felt different here—charged with expectation, thick with the weight of generations of witches who had stood in this exact spot, proving themselves.

And now it was my turn.

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