Page 32

Keane

She’d been staring at the same page for ten minutes, her brow furrowed in that way that made me want to smooth away her worries. Wisp pressed against my leg as I approached her table in the library, my familiar’s form flickering slightly with shared anxiety.

“Lost in thought?” I asked, sliding into the chair beside her. The after effects of my last stability session still lingered, making my temples throb, but I pushed the pain aside. Today wasn’t about Uncle’s therapy or Council politics. Today was just for us.

“Just struggling with the theory.” She closed the book with a sigh. Scout greeted Wisp, their forms intertwining in a way that made something in my chest ache. My familiar had never connected with anyone like this before.

I glanced around to ensure we were alone before letting my fingers brush hers on the table. “Then maybe we should study somewhere else.”

Her pulse jumped beneath my touch. “What?”

“Silverpine Pages in town. It’s warded, and they have better coffee than the dining hall.” Heat crept up my neck as I traced patterns on her hand, remembering how she’d felt in my arms under the stars. “Plus, I found some old texts there that might help with your theory work.”

“So this is just about studying?” The teasing note in her voice made my heart stutter.

“The town’s actually perfect,” I said quietly, fighting the urge to pull her closer. “Somewhere we don’t have to worry about Cyrus or Elio walking in.” Somewhere I could pretend we were just two people finding each other, not heirs.

I opened a portal, focusing hard to keep the edges stable.

The familiar interior of the bookstore shimmered into view, and for a moment the pain in my head spiked—a reminder that I needed another therapy session soon.

Wisp’s form wavered, but I forced the portal steady. Control mattered more than comfort.

“Come on,” I said, offering my hand more boldly now that we were hidden between the stacks. “Just for an hour.”

Her fingers slid into mine like they belonged there. The simple contact made my magic flow more naturally, as if she anchored it. Scout chirped excitedly, already scrambling toward the portal while Wisp pressed closer to my side.

Silverpine Pages folded around us, quiet and familiar. Dust motes drifted in the golden afternoon light, softening the edges of worn leather chairs and high shelves. It felt like a place half-remembered—warmth clinging to the silence like a memory that hadn’t faded yet.

“The owner’s a retired professor,” I explained, leading her to my favorite corner nook. It felt important somehow, sharing this piece of my world with her. “She stocks some interesting magical theory texts in the back room for students.”

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, taking in the atmosphere. Her eyes sparkled with quiet wonder, and I had to look away before I did something stupid. Scout was already exploring while Wisp curled up nearby, more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks.

When I returned with our drinks—spiced chai for her; I’d noticed her eyeing it at breakfast—the pain in my temples had faded slightly.

“How did you know?” she asked, surprised by the drink.

I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “You always smell the chai at breakfast but never take any. I figured you wanted to try it.” My hand found hers again, grounding me as another headache threatened.

She stared at me like I had just handed her something far more important than tea. Then she blushed behind her mug, and suddenly, the trials, Uncle, the corruption in my portals—none of it mattered.

“So,” I said, though I kept getting distracted by the way she licked a stray drop from her lip, “the problem isn’t with your power—it’s with how you’re accessing it. Most witches pull magic through themselves, but necromancers are different. You’re more like… a conductor.”

I sketched diagrams with my free hand, but my focus kept slipping. The scent of chai mixed with the warmth of her beside me, and my thoughts strayed to the way her lips had felt against mine.

“Marigold?”

She startled, clearly as lost in watching me as I was in watching her. “Sorry, I was…”

“Distracted?” I couldn’t help smirking, my voice dipping lower. She was close enough that I could see the freckles dusting her collarbone, the rise and fall of her breath.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull away when I leaned in and kissed her softly.

The next hour blurred—theoretical discussions mixed with quiet laughter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of fingers that sent warmth curling low in my stomach. Scout and Wisp played between the shelves while I pretended my head wasn’t pounding.

Then, as she traced the edge of her book thoughtfully, she frowned. “With all these vampire attacks lately…” She hesitated before meeting my gaze. “Is Wyckhaven protected like the college is? With the wellspring and wards?”

I exhaled, sitting back. “The wellspring’s magic extends out, but it’s not as strong in town as it is on campus.

That’s why there are extra protections in place.

” I glanced toward the door, lowering my voice.

“If a vampire breached the town, warning alarms would go off. People would have time to retreat inside before the Guard responded.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on her mug. “So it’s happened before?”

“Not in Wyckhaven.” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “But with the attacks lately, everyone’s more on edge.”

She absorbed that, nodding, but I saw the tension in her shoulders. I wanted to reach out, but what reassurance could I offer? That nothing would happen? That I wouldn’t let anything happen to her?

Walking her back through my portal to campus, I checked carefully before pulling her close for one last kiss. Reality pressed in again—Uncle would be furious if he knew, the trials were coming, and something dark was spreading through my magic. But her touch still felt like coming home.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For the chai. And the help.”

“Anytime.” I hesitated, brushing her cheek, wishing I could tell her everything.

About how much worse the headaches were getting.

About the true nature of Uncle’s therapy.

I’d told her about the stabilization sessions, but not what they really cost me—how each one left me more hollow, more wrong.

How scared I was of what was happening to my magic.

Instead, I just asked, “Maybe we could… study there again sometime?”

“I’d like that.” She squeezed my hand once before letting go.

As I watched her walk away, Wisp flickering anxiously at my feet, my magic wavered, edges of the portals turning ragged.

The therapy would help—it always did—but being with her made me wonder if stability had to hurt quite so much.

For a few precious hours, I’d gotten to be just a boy taking a girl he liked on a date.

No Council politics. No Uncle’s harsh lessons. No constant fear of losing control.

I just hoped I could hold onto that feeling when the headaches got bad again. When Uncle’s help left me too drained to pretend everything was fine.

I just hoped I could hold onto that feeling when everything else was turning dark.