I touched her arm gently. “You helped us before. You’re helping us now. I won’t let him use that against you.”
She nodded, and her smile was faint but real.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For not saying more before.”
“You said what you could when you were ready,” I said. “That’s more than enough.”
We sat a moment longer under the curling vines, the scent of rosemary and warm clay drifting through the courtyard. It was peaceful here, a reminder of what I was trying to protect.
But peace was something I couldn’t afford to hold too tightly anymore.
Because if I didn’t act first, Gideon would.
And to stop him from ever reaching these walls again…
I’d have to go toShadowickmyself.
Krina looked down at her hands again, then pressed them together until her knuckles whitened.
“I should’ve told you more,” she said, her voice breaking on the edges. “I should’ve said something when I felt the pull again, when the shadows started creeping in this morning. I just… I didn’t want to believe he still had that kind of reach.”
I leaned closer, gently placing a hand over hers.
“Krina,” I said, and waited until her eyes met mine again. “You’re not the one who brought him here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I shook my head.
“You warned us. You trusted me. That’s more than a lot of people would’ve done. And you’re not alone in this. You never were.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away fiercely, jaw set with quiet resolve. She nodded once, as if committing the words to memory.
“We’re all in it together now,” I said, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Whatever’s coming, it won’t just be one of us standing against it. We’re not splinters. We’re a circle. And circles, real ones, don’t break easily.”
Krina let out a shaky laugh, one hand brushing under her eye as she nodded again, stronger this time. “Thank you. Really.”
I smiled gently and stood, my legs still unsteady but gaining strength with each step. The warmth of the morning wrapped around us again as I looked out over the courtyard, my gaze catching something that pulled the breath I’d been holding more deeply into my chest.
Down near the herb gardens, where the rosemary and lemon balm grew in tangled harmony and the air always smelled like summer clinging to spring, I spotted a blur of colorful cloaks and silvery laughter.
Stella.
She stood in the middle of the garden path, gesturing animatedly with a sprig of thyme in one hand, the other holding a basket that had clearly been raided more for fun than necessity. Her cheeks were flushed, her curls wild, and the glint in her eyes suggested she’d just said something far cheekier than the moment warranted.
Surrounding her were the four vampires—Lady Limora, Opal, Vivienne, and a new student I hadn’t yet met, her presence elegant and enigmatic. All of them were laughing, real and full and entirely unguarded, heads tipped toward the sun, baskets swinging at their sides, their shadows long and gentle against the stone.
A little slice of calm.
Oflife.
Krina followed my gaze and smiled through the remnants of her emotion. “They’ve been helping Stella stock the apothecary shelves. Said they wanted to learn how to steep teas that actuallysootheinstead of stun.”
I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “A worthy pursuit.”
“Opal enchanted one of the mint patches,” Krina added. “It hums now when it’s ready to be picked.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, just listening.
Laughter, wind through lavender, the hum of warded soil, the murmur of healing herbs growing in stubborn defiance of every dark thing pressing at our edges.