Page 22

Keane

I hadn’t meant to watch her quite so closely. But tracking her movements had become almost unconscious—a window here, a glimpse there, just to ensure she was safe after what happened at the Cauldron on Saturday. Just to observe, I told myself. Nothing more.

Nothing to do with the way she looked in that damn maid uniform. Or the way I did nothing while they humiliated her.

She had knelt there, fire in her eyes, refusing to break even as they taunted her.

And I had done nothing. Promised them I wouldn’t interfere.

Loyalty to the heirs came first. I had told myself that again and again, but it didn’t stop the way my stomach had twisted as Elio toyed with her.

As Cyrus pushed her past her limits. As I sat there and let it happen.

And now she wouldn’t even look at me.

I had tried. A quiet nudge here, an open portal there. Small offerings, barely enough to be called apologies, but she saw them for what they were. And she ignored them all the same.

Wisp flickered uneasily beside me as I hesitated.

I knew where she was—tucked away in a reading alcove, far from the chaos of the main study area.

I should leave her be. She wanted nothing from me.

She had made that clear when we crossed paths in the hall this morning, her eyes burning with unspoken accusation before she turned away.

I should leave.

Instead, I stepped through a portal, closing the distance before I could stop myself.

She startled at my arrival, knocking over a pile of notes. Scout chittered irritably at me from her shoulder.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, keeping my distance. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Spy on me through your portals?” A hint of a smile took the sting from her words, but there was something else behind her eyes—something bruised and wary. “I’m starting to get used to it.”

I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t—I just…”

“Haven’t spoken to me for a while?” she finished, voice tight. She bent to retrieve her scattered notes, movements sharp, controlled. “The dead things notice when your little windows appear.”

“You’ve been avoiding me too,” I pointed out before I could think better of it.

She froze. Then, exhaling sharply, she shoved the papers back into a messy pile. “You didn’t stop them.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry—not just for what happened Saturday, but for the uniform, for all of it. I should have done better.”

Scout clicked his jaw in a sound that might have been agreement. Wisp flickered uncertainly.

“What are you working on?” I asked quickly, hoping to move past everything I already knew I’d done wrong.

She hesitated, then gestured to her notebook. “Basic magic. Everyone else seems to just know how to do these things. Make light, move objects. But when I try…” She showed me her notes—messy but methodical, patterns half-formed. “It’s like speaking a language where I only know three words.”

She was trying so damn hard. Not just to memorize—to understand. And that got to me—in a place I didn’t want to think about.

“You’ve actually got the right idea,” I admitted. “You’re just making it more complicated than it needs to be. Think of magic like…” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Like water finding its way through pipes. It needs a clear path.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is this another setup? Like Elio’s little trick with remedial class?”

“No.” I meant it. “Would it help if I showed you? Sometimes seeing it makes more sense than reading about it.”

She watched me carefully, weighing the offer. Then, finally, she gave a short nod. “Fine.”

I opened a small portal in my palm, just large enough for Scout to peer through. On the other side, I created a view of the sunset over the mountains. The edges darkened slightly but she was too focused to notice.

“See what’s happening?” I ran a finger along the edge of the portal.

“It’s just about shaping the path—like digging a channel for water to follow.

Magic wants to move. You’re just giving it direction.

The books make it sound more complicated than it is, but it comes down to intention. You need to show it where to go.”

She leaned in, notebook ready, and her scent washed over me—something floral mixed with old books. “So when I try to make light…”

“You’re creating a path between your magic and where you want the light to appear.” I kept my voice steady despite her proximity. “Here, watch what happens when I make the portal bigger and smaller.”

I demonstrated a few simple adjustments, careful to stick to basics. Nothing that would trigger the worse headaches that came with advanced portal work.

Even after years of therapy, my magic was still unstable.

The treatments helped—they had to, or my portals would be completely unpredictable by now—but lately I needed more sessions to maintain the same control.

Uncle said that was normal, that power like mine required constant maintenance.

But like everything else with him, it came with a cost, but at least this pain served a purpose.

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up with understanding. “That’s why everyone keeps talking about clear intentions.”

“Exactly.” The throbbing in my temples intensified. “The same idea probably works with your necromancy, though in a different way.”

We spent the next hour breaking down the basics, finding simple ways to understand what the textbooks made overly complicated. When she asked about my portals, Wisp’s distress made my head spike with pain.

“That’s… different,” I said carefully, closing the demonstration portal. Its edges had grown almost black. “Family magic. We should focus on the basics for now.”

Scout and Wisp had settled on the window ledge, quietly communicating in the way familiars did—more instinct than language.

It wasn’t the interaction that caught my eye, though—it was the small, fraying black ribbon tied neatly around Scout’s neck. A crooked little bow tie. Handmade. Thoughtful.

Of course she’d done that. Given him a piece of herself.

The same girl who’d faced down three heirs and cleaned ashes off the hearth without flinching had also tied a bow on a skeletal mouse like he deserved to be seen.

I felt that twist again—guilt and something else, sharper.

She wasn’t just trying. She was reaching —to understand this world, to belong in it, to shape it with the same stubborn grace she brought to everything.

And I’d sat there like stone while Elio humiliated her.

I cleared my throat, looking back at the text between us. She didn’t need my regret. She needed someone who believed she could do this.

“You’re actually a good teacher,” she said as the light faded outside. “Why help me, though? After Saturday night…” Her voice faltered. “Won’t the others be angry?”

They would. Any hint of alliance would be seen as betrayal. But watching her struggle, seeing her work so hard to understand…

“The others don’t control me,” I said finally. “And…” I hesitated. “I know what it’s like to feel lost in this place.”

Something in her expression softened. “Because of your parents?”

I shouldn’t tell her. Shouldn’t risk this connection.

But the words came anyway.”They died when I was young.

My uncle raised me, but he…” The memory of his lessons—the cruel punishments, the cold calculation, everything except the therapy that kept my magic from spiraling completely out of control.

“He’s not someone who explains things patiently. ”

Understanding filled her eyes—not pity, but something worse. Recognition. Scout chittered softly, and Wisp’s form stabilized, as if drawing comfort from the shared understanding.

“Thank you,” she said softly.