Page 66

I didn’t soothe her.

Because, for the first time, I wasn’t sure I believed my own reassurances.

33

Marigold

I couldn’t sleep.

The wellspring’s power still hummed through my veins hours after the trials, but that wasn’t what kept me awake. My mind tangled between what had happened on the field—the way my magic had burned in perfect sync with the others, the flicker of realization in Cyrus’s eyes—and what had happened before.

Keane’s kisses.

We had stolen time together before the trials—his lips had been warm against mine, hesitant at first, then deepening into something certain. He had taken me into town, away from the others, where we could just be. But as soon as we returned to Wickem, he had pulled away, keeping a careful distance whenever we weren’t alone.

And then, after the trials, his uncle had called him away.

Scout chittered softly from his perch on my bedside table, picking up on my restlessness. I exhaled and pushed back the covers. Maybe watching the mountains from the common room would help settle me. Maybe I’d stop feeling like something was unraveling just out of sight.

I wasn’t surprised to find Keane already there, standing at the window.

Wisp flickered at his feet, her form shifting between solid and spectral, never fully settling. The way Keane stood—shoulders tense, hands curled into loose fists—wasn’t right. His magic pulsed erratically around him, tiny rifts opening and closing like nervous tics.

“Can’t sleep?” I asked softly.

He turned, and the look in his eyes made my breath catch. Shadows lingered beneath them, his expression tight. Something had happened after the trials when he walked away with his uncle. I’d seen the way he flinched when his uncle touched him.

“Too much on my mind,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something unspoken.

The space between us felt charged. Scout scampered to join Wisp by the window while I moved closer, drawn by that same pull I’d felt before the trials. The same pull I had felt every time I was near him.

“The way our magic worked together today…” he started, voice low.

I swallowed, watching the way his hands clenched like he was bracing for something. “Was that all it was?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Just magic?”

His jaw tightened. Another portal flickered to life at his side, the edges darker than they should be, unsteady. “Marigold…”

I wanted him to say it. I needed him to say it.

“About what happened before the trials…” His voice was rough, like he was forcing the words out. “It doesn’t change anything. I still want this—I still want you.”

My breath hitched. Scout clicked excitedly, and Wisp’s form brightened, flickering silver for a brief moment. The air between us felt fragile, on the verge of breaking apart or snapping into something inevitable.

Keane lifted a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek, the touch familiar now after our stolen moments together. But tonight, there was tension in it, something strained beneath the warmth. His magic trembled at the edges, flickering unstable.

My breath caught.

Wisp pressed closer to him, stabilizing, and for the first time since I had walked in, his magic stilled.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

The moment shattered.

We sprang apart as Cyrus’s voice cut through the room. He stood in the doorway, flames curling around his fingers, Ember’s wings casting golden light that made everything feel too exposed. The temperature spiked instantly.

Cyrus’s gaze moved between us, sharp and assessing. His smirk was in place, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His fingers flexed, and the flames around his hands burned just a little too hot.

Keane tensed beside me, but he didn’t step away. His posture was braced, guarded—not against me, but against Cyrus.