Page 59 of Heir of Shadows

Undergrove was silent for a long moment, staring at the silver skull. “I think,” he said finally, “that truth is rarely what the Council claims it to be.” He met my eyes. “Good luck in your trials, Miss Grimley. And remember—sometimes the dead know more than the living are willing to admit.”

Walking back through the castle’s ancient halls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Undergrove had been trying to tell me something important without actually saying it. Scout pressed close, clearly unsettled by whatever he’d sensed in that office.

The trials suddenly felt more significant than just proving my magical ability. I was walking in my father’s footsteps—and something about those footsteps had frightened people in power.

I just hoped I was ready for whatever that might mean.

The library hadbecome my refuge, especially with Third Week Trials starting Monday. Professor Undergrove’s words from this afternoon still echoed in my mind:Your father saw connections others missed.

Was that why the Council had really executed him? Because he discovered something they wanted to keep hidden?

Scout helped me trace the magical currents flowing through the library walls, our detection skills growing stronger with practice. The pure energy from the wellspring flowed clean and strong here, but we’d found patches of that same sticky wrongness I’d noticed elsewhere. The dead things in the walls avoided those spots, their whispers growing uncertain when we got too close.

I tried to focus on my notes, memorizing the diagrams I’d need for the Trials. But my thoughts kept circling back—to Undergrove’s careful hints, to my father’s research, to the growing weight of everything I didn’t yet understand.

And, unhelpfully, to Keane.

Our evening study sessions in this corner had become oddly comforting over the past weeks. What had started as reluctant tutoring had shifted into something quieter, more companionable. I’d find myself listening for his footsteps, for the soft whisper of a portal opening nearby.

“Can’t sleep again?” Keane’s quiet voice made me jump.

I looked up to see him stepping through a closing portal, and something in his appearance made me pause. His movements were more careful than usual, his eyes slightly unfocused. The corruption in his magic seemed darker tonight, spreading like ink through water—wrong, unnatural.

“Just trying to understand all this before Monday.” I gestured at my open book, studying him with growing concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “Just came from my uncle’s.” He left it at that, as if it explained everything.

The stabilization sessions. He’d mentioned them before—briefly, reluctantly. Now I wondered what they really entailed.

He moved closer, but I noticed how he braced himself against the bookshelf for a moment, as if gathering strength. Wisp flickered near his feet, more unstable than usual, while Scout tensed against my palm.

“I saw your work in class today.” His voice stayed low, controlled despite whatever strain he was under. “You’re making real progress.”

I exhaled, half relieved, half unsettled by how quickly he’d changed the subject. “Thanks to your help.”

“I was looking for you,” he admitted, his careful composure slipping just slightly.

My heart stuttered. “Through your portals?”

His lips parted slightly, hesitation flickering across his face. “They have a way of finding what matters.”

The quiet admission hung between us. Whatever his uncle’s sessions involved, they hadn’t stopped him from seeking me out afterward. That meant something, though I wasn’t sure what.

Instead of continuing, Keane lifted a hand, opening a small portal beside us. Through it, I could see the night sky—but not as it appeared from the library windows. This view was impossibly close, like we could reach out and touch the stars themselves. The edges of the portal shimmered, cleaner than I’d seen from him tonight.

“There’s a meteor shower,” he said, offering his hand. “You’ve been studying for hours. Maybe a short break would help?”

I hesitated, but only for a moment. I should have said no. I should have gone back to my notes, to my father’s secrets, to the safer distance between us.

Instead, I took his offered hand.

His fingers curled around mine, warm and steady, and where our magic touched, everything clicked into place. No darkness, no wrongness, just that same perfect harmony I’d felt before—the way magic was meant to be. I felt him relax slightly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

We emerged on one of Wickem’s highest towers, far above the library’s peaked roof. The stars stretched endless above us, silver-bright against the deep velvet sky. The first meteor streaked across the horizon, leaving a trail of white fire in its wake. Scout and Wisp moved to the tower’s edge, while we stood in silence.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

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