Page 9

Marigold

The shadows and the dead things in the walls stirred eagerly as I slipped into Wickem’s main hall. Students filled the temporary benches, their voices bouncing off the stone in a flurry of words like “ley line resonance” and “elemental attunement.” It might as well have been a foreign language.

I gripped my ring to keep my necromancy in check.

A student nearby casually levitated their notebook like it was nothing.

When I reached for my own magic, it surged like a broken dam, too fast, too much—and all the dead things perked up like I’d just shouted “Party.” Not the best first impression.

Unless the goal was a skeleton uprising.

“First day nerves?”

I spun to find a woman next to me. My heart lurched—after yesterday’s funhouse horror show courtesy of Elio, this particular friendly face felt like a potential trap. But something about her energy felt different.

Where Elio’s illusion had been diamond-sharp and perfect, this woman radiated honest warmth. She wore her dark hair in a neat bob that wasn’t quite perfect and her brown eyes held actual kindness.

Even the dead things hummed with something close to relief. I was getting better at reading them—they seemed to like her.

“I’m Ms. Wallace—the real one this time,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I heard about Elio’s… performance. I promise I’m the genuine article.”

I’d nearly been hurt, and she spoke casually, as if it was all a game.

Sympathy or no sympathy, I could tell I’d be on my own here.

Still, I studied her carefully, trying to catalog the small imperfections that made her real—the slightly crooked collar of her sapphire blazer, a scuff on one practical heel, the way her ID badge hung slightly askew.

Maybe if I knew the differences, I could spot his illusion next time.

“Let me introduce you to some fellow freshmen. It helps to have allies when everything feels overwhelming.” She ushered me toward one of the benches.

She led me to a bench where two other students sat—a girl with close-cropped black hair and protective charms dangling from multiple piercings, and a tall guy with wire-rimmed glasses who radiated scholarly British propriety.

“Oh, thank death, another necromancer freshman!” the girl exclaimed with a grin that lit up her whole face. “I’m Raven. Yes, really, my parents are those kind of witches—all about the symbolic naming. It was either this or Morgana.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. After the other heirs’ cold disdain, her enthusiasm felt sincere. “Marigold,” I said, shaking her hand.

“I’m Lucas,” the guy said. “Just got accepted to the Theoretical Necromancy track, though that might be ambitious for the first semester.”

“Might be,” Ms. Wallace said with a glimmer of humor in her brown eyes. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Raven patted the seat next to her, and I slid into it. “It’s okay to be nervous,” she said. “I totally am too.” She looked around the great hall like she couldn’t quite believe she was here. “I’ve wanted to go to Wickem forever, and now that I’m here…”

“It’s a lot,” Lucas said.

With a chuckle, I nodded. It was nice to have them voicing similar things to what I was feeling, although at least they’d known that Wickem existed.

A student a few rows ahead glanced back, eyes narrowing, before whispering something to their friend. I kept my head high, but the weight of their stares pressed down on me. So it wasn’t just the heirs who had a problem with me. Great.

My gaze was drawn to Raven and Lucas’ dead things playing with each other, the beetle and bird engaged in an impromptu game of chase while the mouse that had been following me watched with interest. At least they seemed to have control over their power—their dead things stayed small and singular, while I had to constantly fight to keep mine from multiplying.

“So,” Lucas asked, pulling out a course catalog thick enough to stun a horse, “which magical prep school? I was at Hawthorn in London—a bit stuffy but their necromancy program is unparalleled.”

“Riverside Academy,” Raven chimed in. “Though my parents almost sent me to Hawthorn too. Their research into theoretical applications of death magic is groundbreaking.”

They both looked at me.

“Um, a Sprayberry public in Albany?” I offered. Their blank looks made my cheeks burn. “It’s… not a magical school. Just regular public high school.”

“Wait.” Raven’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “Are you the Shadow Heir?”

I nodded, bracing myself to be mocked.

But instead, Raven grinned and said, “That’s awesome. No wonder your power feels so strong—royal bloodlines usually are. Must be wild trying to handle all that without training though.”

Before I could respond, Lucas pointed toward the stage. “Look, President Sprig is about to speak.”

We all turned obediently to watch the stern looking man who took the stage. He was stocky, with close-cut black curls on his head, and his whole being radiated natural authority.

He introduced himself, and his voice carried effortlessly as he welcomed us and explained Wickem Academy’s dual track system—general magical theory for all students, plus specialized studies in our chosen disciplines. It all sounded so normal, like a regular college—but with magic.

After President Sprig finished up his speech and stepped down, Ms. Wallace appeared at my elbow again and urged me to follow her. “You can come back to your friends in a minute, Ms. Grimley.”

I winced at the name, but I expected I would need to get used to it. After all, Grimley had been my father’s name and that’s who I was to them in this place—a Grimley, a traitor’s daughter.

We waited at the back of the room, and a few minutes later, President Sprig joined us.

“Ms. Grimley,” he said, offering his hand.

I had a sudden urge to flee, but I was an heir and a necromancer—even though I’d discovered it in the last twenty-four hours.

Meeting important people had suddenly become part of my everyday life.

So I ignored the fluttery feeling in my chest, met the president’s eyes and shook his hand.

Despite his formal demeanor, his face seemed unexpectedly kind. I was grateful for it.

“Given your background,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “we’ll need to arrange some catch-up coursework alongside your regular freshman load.”

I nodded. I’d expected as much, especially after hearing that Raven and Lucas had attended magical high schools. “I’ll work hard.”

The president smiled. “Ms. Wallace has helped design an accelerated program to bridge the gap.”

“We’ll get you up to speed,” Ms. Wallace added. “I’ve worked with students transitioning from non-magical backgrounds before. You’re not alone in this.”

“Really?” I asked. The idea that there might be others like me brought a small sense of relief.

The president nodded. “Ms. Wallace will help you with the details.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He headed off in the direction of the administrative offices.

Ms. Wallace turned to me. She lifted up a small, leatherbound book that hummed with magic. After flipping through it, she pointed to a page, “Here’s your revised schedule, including some remedial classes that start this week, and we can look into getting you some peer tutoring.”

“Are the remedial classes covered by my scholarship?”

“Your father’s estate covers everything, including spending money. Here,” Ms. Wallace said, pressing a silver credit card into my hand. It thrummed with contained power—I was still amazed at how much I could sense from everyone and everything.

I hesitated before asking, “If there’s an estate, does that mean I can send money to my mom?”

Ms. Wallace’s expression softened slightly. “Yes, we can arrange that. There are accounts set aside beyond tuition.”

I smiled. The thought of still being able to help, maybe get Mom the surgery she needed—I couldn’t believe it.

“Is she safe?” I asked, half under my breath. “The vampires left her alone?”

Ms. Wallace nodded. “Yes, the Guard still has watchmen placed, but now that you aren’t there, there’s no reason they should pay attention to her.”

“They won’t go after her out of vengeance?” I asked. “Now that they can’t get to me?” Like Mr. Conrad had probably already done, pulled his contract from my mom’s company. I hoped she wouldn’t lose her job over that incident.

“Vampire clans aren’t that organized,” Wallace continued. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

I nibbled at my lip.

She lay a hand on my arm. “The Guard will take care of your mom,” Ms. Wallace assured me. “Now we just need to focus on getting you settled and ready for the Third Week Trials.”

“Trials?” My stomach dropped.

“All students must demonstrate their abilities,” she said. “But don’t worry—we’ll have you well prepared.”

After Ms. Wallace finished her explanations, I walked back to Raven and Lucas in a daze, my mind spinning. Yesterday I was cleaning houses, today I had inherited money and magic and who knew what else. And in three weeks, I’d have to prove I deserved it all.

“You’ll need all the core texts,” Lucas said, marking items in a list on his phone. “Professor Cribley’s Basic Magical Theory is notorious—we have three books just for that class.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, trying to focus on what we were doing.

“Look,” Lucas said, pointing to a room on the same side of the hall as the administrative offices. A line of students stood in front of glass doors that were propped open, and the line wrapped around the main hall.

“That’s the campus store,” Raven said. “Where we get our textbooks and supplies and stuff.” She caught the face I made—then noticed what I was staring at. The catalog spread open on the bench between them. “We’re making a list.”

Oh yeah, on top of all these life revelations, I also had school. I glanced over at the campus store again. I was sure it hadn’t been here when I’d gone through before, but with the tricks the other heirs had played on me, I couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t forget Professor Undergrove’s Necromancy requirements,” Raven said, comparing her list to Lucas’ lists. “At least the store has everything—both regular supplies and magical components. Good thing too.” She gave a half-hearted scowl at her beetle. “Boris here keeps stealing my crystals.”

“Boris?”

“My familiar,” Raven explained, scratching the skeletal beetle’s head. “Every witch bonds with one eventually. You’ll probably get yours soon, being an heir and all.”

Lucas continued, adjusting his glasses, “And you’ll need proper protective gear for Combat Training. I’ve heard that Professor Rivera doesn’t let anyone practice without full safety equipment.”

“Look at that line though.” Raven groaned. “We’ll be here forever. Maybe we should head up to the cafe first? Get some actual decent coffee while we wait for this chaos to die down.”

“Best view in the academic wing,” Lucas agreed. “And they do this amazing skull foam art in their lattes.”

“You had me at decent coffee,” I said, following them into the hallway that led toward the academic wing.

Raven and Lucas laughed like they were just normal college students. For a second, I could almost believe I was one too.

My skeletal mouse darted after Boris the beetle, their little bones clicking over the stone floor in a makeshift game of tag.

Necromancer. Heir. Scholarship kid.

For the first time since I got here, it didn’t feel like too much.

Tonight might be a disaster. But right now? I was still standing.