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And Marigold—Marigold was starting to see things the rest of us had been taught to ignore.

Her magic had already shifted things none of us understood. The trials had proven that. She had proven that.

I let my illusion fade slowly, making sure Lord Alstone was gone before stepping away from my hidden perch between the stacks.

Echo flicked her tail once, her colors still storm-cloud dark.

“I believe we’ve seen enough for one evening,” I murmured, rising to leave.

As I passed, Scout was investigating one of Keane’s portals, the skeletal mouse chittering softly, disturbed. The dead things always did seem more honest than the living.

I would know.

I had spent my life crafting beautiful lies.

But lately, watching Marigold made me wonder what it would be like to simply be real.

38

Keane

Late one night,Marigold and I sat together in a quiet corner of the library, the dim light pooling around us like we existed in our own little world. My phone said it was almost midnight, and we were the last ones here.

Uncle hadn’t wanted us spending time together—he’d made that clear during my last stabilization session—but I couldn’t seem to listen.

I couldn’t seem to stay away.

But my temples throbbed as I tried to stabilize the portals circling around us. Lately, they had been… off. My magic felt wrong, tainted, like it carried echoes of my uncle’s therapy sessions—like he was watching, even now.

Your magic needs constant maintenance, his voice rattled in my skull.Without it, you’ll become unstable. A danger to yourself. To her.

I clenched my jaw and focused on Marigold.

She was still here, still grounding me. If I could just stay in this moment, maybe I wouldn’t shatter under the weight of what was coming.

She sat cross-legged on the sofa, flipping through her father’s diary and her own notes. Scout clicked industriously at the pages, his tiny skeletal paw tapping out patterns like he was trying to decipher something himself.

The bracelet I’d given her dangled from her wrist, the key swaying back and forth like a pendulum.

“Have you figured out anything about the cipher?” she asked. “I can’t seem to make heads or tails of it.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t told her that Uncle didn’t want me helping her with the diary.

“I think he was using…” I started, but my mind blanked as she shifted, her knee brushing mine. Magic hummed where we touched, clean and right in a way that made my stomach twist.

Wrong. It wasn’t supposed to feel this right.

“Keane?” she looked up, and suddenly we were much closer than I’d intended. Close enough to see the hints of violet in her pretty brown eyes, the way her lips parted slightly when she was deep in thought.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seem distracted.”

I blinked.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I wasn’t fine.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not with her. Not when every moment with her made it harder to obey. Not when Uncle’s magic coiled deeper into my bones every time I left his therapy sessions.

“I’m just thinking about how naturally our magic works together.”