Page 46 of Beasts of Shadows #1

I’m halfway down the stone steps from the observatory when I hear the sound of footsteps behind me—fast, deliberate, and a little too practiced.

I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I’ve spent enough time listening to her walk away from me.

“Nari,” Ta?sse calls. “A word?”

I pause. Sigh. Then pivot on my heel.

She looks pristine as always, her coat belted tight over her gown from last night, not a single strand of her hair out of place. Somehow, she doesn’t look tired at all.

Which is annoying. I’m exhausted.

“If this is about the cliffs—.”

“It’s about you.” Her voice is too smooth. “And the way you keep appearing in places you don’t belong.”

I raise a brow. “Like class? Or the festival I was invited to?”

She doesn’t smile, but her lips twitch. “You’re clever. I’ll give you that.”

“And yet, I’m still here. Still standing.”

Ta?sse steps closer. “It wasn’t a stunt. It was a warning.”

“Oh, was that what you were doing? Warning me? I must’ve missed the part where you had to kiss Nikolai to get the message across.”

Her eyes narrow just slightly. “He and I have history. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She glances over my shoulder, and something in her expression changes. “You always want things that aren’t yours.”

I stiffen. “You think he belongs to you?”

“I think you’re very brave,” she says softly. “And very foolish.”

I open my mouth—no idea what’s going to come out—but that’s when Nikolai’s voice slices through the cold.

“Back off.”

He steps between us like he’s answering some unspoken summons. Not touching me. Not even looking at me. But his posture is tight. Controlled. The kind of restraint that only matters because he’s clearly thinking about breaking it.

Ta?sse arches one brow. “You don’t speak to me like that.”

“I do when you corner someone like a vulture. And it’s not even the full moon.” His tone is calm, but I see the flare of something sharper beneath it. “Nari hasn’t done anything to deserve your pettiness.”

“Oh?” she says coolly. “Then why does she keep ending up where she doesn’t belong?”

Nikolai’s jaw twitches. “Because she does belong here. With us. Whether you approve or not.”

It’s a small sentence. Quiet.

But it lands like thunder.

Ta?sse stares at him—searching his face for some sign this is a game. A lie. A tactic.

But there’s nothing.

Just truth, worn plainly on his face like a bruise.

“You’re serious,” she says.

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at her. Then, gently, steps closer to me. Not a possessive gesture, but a clear one. A choice.

Ta?sse’s lips flatten. She exhales, tight and controlled.

“Well then,” she says after a long moment, “good luck surviving her.”

And with that, she pivots and disappears down the path, her boots cutting sharp lines into the frost.

Nikolai doesn’t speak. Neither do I.

For a moment, we just stand there.

Then I murmur, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“She’s your friend.”

“As much as any shade can be, I guess,” he says. “She knew what type of person my family wanted me to marry. She wanted the same thing.”

“And I’m not that.”

His gaze finally meets mine.

“No,” he says quietly. “You’re exactly what they’re afraid of.”

Something electric tightens in my chest. Not entirely unpleasant.

I look away. “That’s not a compliment.”

“It’s the highest one I can give.”

#

The bathhouse is warm, thick with steam and eucalyptus. Reema sits upright on the marble bench beside the plunge pool, her hair twisted into a practical knot at the nape of her neck. A book rests beside her towel—of course it does—but for once she’s not reading. She’s watching me.

Cat is sprawled in the pool like she’s a Greek siren off-duty, letting the heat lull her into loose-limbed luxury. I envy her ease. I’ve been pretending to relax since we got here. But the water is too hot, my thoughts too loud.

I keep seeing that carving. The way it fit in my palm like it belonged there. The way he said affection like it wasn’t a curse.

“You’re quiet,” Reema says, not even looking at me. Her voice is casual, but there’s something pointed in it. “Which means you’re either mentally cataloguing the week’s disasters or thinking about Nikolai.”

Cat perks up, eyes gleaming. “Oooh. Nicky Boy? Do tell. I live for a morally gray situationship.”

I scoff, trying to wave it off. “Reema doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Highly unlikely,” Cat hums. “You have to admit, though—he’s hot. In that menacing, kiss-you-or-kill-you kind of way.”

“Unsettlingly symmetrical,” Reema mutters, finally lifting her gaze to mine. “Like the type of man tragic heroines fall for in early Victorian novels. Handsome, haunted, wildly impractical.”

“She’s got a type,” Cat says.

“I do not,” I argue, too fast.

Reema folds her towel neatly and sets it aside. “Still. He doesn’t strike me as the long-term strategy type. That Ta?sse stunt at the festival? Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

I bristle. Before I can stop myself: “She kissed him.”

Reema blinks. “I didn’t say she didn’t.”

“He didn’t ask for it,” I continue, each word sharper than the last. “And he pulled away. Eventually.”

Cat floats closer, propping her chin on her arms. “So you’re saying he’s loyal?”

I exhale through my nose, slow. “I’m saying… he didn’t ask for any of this. Any more than I did.”

It slips out before I can filter it. And the moment it does, I know I’ve betrayed something I’m not ready to name.

The silence that follows isn’t mocking. It’s worse. It’s knowing.

Reema narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s filing my response away under emotional liabilities. “Huh.”

“What?” I try to sound annoyed, but I’m too tired. Too exposed.

“You defended him,” she says mildly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You absolutely did,” Cat chimes in, amused.

“I was clarifying.”

Reema arches a brow. “Defensively. Which is still defense.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” But I’m already curling deeper into the water, letting it rise to my chin, willing it to erase the flush in my cheeks.

Because I did mean it. Maybe not as an endorsement. But as… something. Recognition, maybe. A reluctant admission that I’ve started to see him not just as an adversary—but as a person. A dangerous, aggravating, quietly devastating person.

And gods help me—I don’t know when that shift started.

I sink further under, the steam clinging to my skin like guilt.

Cat laughs. Reema doesn’t. She just watches me with that same Hermione-style scrutiny she’s always had—like she sees more than I’m saying and is quietly waiting for me to catch up to the truth myself.

And I hate that she’s probably right.

#

Cody is waiting on the dorm steps when I return from training a few days later, gloved hands buried in his jacket pockets, his face tipped toward the sky like he’s trying to memorize the stars before they vanish. He doesn’t move when I approach.

“Were you waiting long?” I ask, keeping my tone even.

“Just making sure you didn’t piss off any more gods today,” he replies, dry and flat.

“Not for lack of trying.”

He almost smiles. Almost. But it collapses halfway through, and the quiet that follows feels heavier than the snow starting to fall.

I ease down beside him, shoulder brushing his. The concrete is cold through my leggings, but I barely notice. There’s something brittle in the air—like a storm that hasn’t decided which direction to break.

“So… Reema.”

At her name, he goes still. Not stiff—just… still. Like he’s bracing.

I breathe deep. I’ve rehearsed this in my head a dozen ways, but none of them feel right now. Not with him so close. Not with the silence drawing tighter around us like a noose.

“You’re in love with her.”

“What?” he scoffs, too quickly. “Nars, come on. You know I can’t sta—.”

“I saw you. At the solstice.”

He doesn’t deny it this time. Just leans back slowly, palms braced behind him, like he needs the stairs to keep him upright. His throat moves on a swallow, jaw clenched.

“It’s not what you think.”

“You wrote her a love letter,” I say quietly. “In your journal.”

Now he looks at me. Really looks. Not angry. Not defensive. Just… haunted. The kind of look you give someone who’s about to open a door you were trying to hold shut.

Silence stretches. Long enough that I consider dropping it. But I can’t—not when I see what this is doing to both of them.

“She thinks you hate her,” I say. “Thinks she did something wrong. That she’s missing memories.”

“I know.”

He says it too fast. Too certain. Like it’s a weight he’s been carrying for years.

“You know,” I repeat, slower.

“It’s why I have to be so hard on her,” he mutters. “I can’t—if anyone finds out…”

“Finds out what?”

His hands curl into fists, and without warning, he slams them down on the concrete. The impact is loud. Louder than it should be.

A sharp crack splits the stair beneath us.

I flinch.

A jagged fracture snakes across the stone like lightning.

Witches shouldn’t be able to hit that hard.

“You don’t understand,” he says, low. “This—what we’re caught in—it’s not just prophecy or pantheon bullshit. Reema… she’s not supposed to be here. And if they realize what she is—.”

“What is she?”

Cody doesn’t answer.

He just turns, slowly, deliberately, and looks me dead in the eye.

“Promise me something.”

I raise a brow. “You don’t get to ask for a promise without a real answer.”

“I can’t.” His voice sounds like gravel. “I want to. But I can’t risk it. Not yet. Not with her life hanging in the balance.”

Does he know about my vision? Is that what he means about her life being on the line?

“Then give me something, Cody.”

He exhales through his nose. Like it physically hurts to speak.

“Just… keep her safe. No matter what happens. Even if it means choosing the option you’ll hate. Even if it means protecting her from me.”

I blink.

“You’re asking me to keep her safe from you? Or something else? Someone else?”

His mouth opens. Closes. For a heartbeat, I think he won’t say anything at all.

Then, “Both.”

It lands like a blade.

I study his face. The tension in his jaw. The way his shoulders lock, like he’s holding something inside that might split him open.

“You think whatever’s coming for her…could come through you?”

“No,” he says. “Because of me. Because it already has. Everytime I try to do the right thing, I end up making it worse. And one day, I won’t be able to stop it.”

“You owe her more than that.”

“I had to break her once to protect her.” His voice is hoarse. “And it gutted me.”

“Then why—?”

“Because if I lose control again…” He swallows. “I don’t think I’ll get another chance to put the pieces back together.”

The silence that follows is thick. Final. Like ash after fire.

“She’s better off with Geneir.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

He doesn’t argue.

He just closes his eyes like he wishes it could be.

I look out at the trees, wind tugging at the branches like they’re trying to claw their way toward something truer. Something softer.

“You’re asking too much,” I whisper.

“I know.”

I should tell him no. I should demand answers. But I don’t. Because beneath the fear and frustration, I understand what it means to be cursed with loving someone you’re destined to destroy.

And still, I say it.

“I promise.”

His breath catches. Shoulders sag.

And for a moment—just a moment—I see the boy beneath all of it. The one who loves her so much it’s killing him.

The one who still believes protecting someone means walking away before they can ask you to stay.