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I tried to put on my usual mask of calm. Straightening in my chair, I kept my face carefully composed. Or so I hoped. The door opened without the courtesy of a knock. Arabella paused in the threshold, scanning my features before striding forward.

“What happened?” she demanded, her eyes raking over my disheveled clothes. “Vex practically ran straight into me. She seemed rattled.”

“Nothing,” I lied, functional enough to sound dismissive.

“Liar,” she snapped. “Your shirt is glowing.”

I glanced down. Indeed, the area around my forearm still glimmered faintly. “It’s a new style. Very trendy among warlords.”

“Kazimir,” she said in that exasperated tone, crossing to my side. “Show me your arm.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Either you show me, or I rip your sleeve off,” she warned. “Your choice.”

I knew she’d do it. With a resigned sigh, I let her roll up my sleeve. A hiss escaped her lips at the sight: the runes beneath my skin pulsed an angry red, each symbol outlined in raw, infected flesh. She knelt next to the chair, her fingers hovering as if she wanted to touch them but didn’t dare.

“Why is this happening?” she asked in a hushed voice. “I’ve seen your runes flare before, but not… like this.”

“They always sting after I use a lot of magic,” I muttered. “Lately, though, it’s worse.”

“How long has it been worse?” Her gaze pinned me.

“Since the war room fiasco,” I admitted. “I’ve had random flare-ups before, but never this excruciating. The partial Heirloom activation might be accelerating it, or—” I cut off, unwilling to say more. Especially the part about that vision.

Arabella brushed my arm gently with her fingertips. Even that featherlight contact sent a ripple of pain through me, but I endured it. Her concern surprised me, though I tried not to let it show.

“What did you do after I left the training room?” she pressed.

I could’ve lied again. But I met her eyes and found I didn’t want to. “I attempted to create a Bone Behemoth. A construct. I needed a monstrous weapon. It worked for a few seconds… until my runes decided they hated me.”

Her expression flickered between horror and fascination. “Bone… behemoth. Did you seriously piece together a giant skeleton with your magic?”

I offered a mirthless smirk. “I nearly had it under my command before everything went to hell. Then it collapsed and took me along for the ride.”

She shook her head like she couldn’t believe my recklessness. “How many times can you do this before it kills you? Before your magic tears you apart from the inside?”

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know; I only knew I couldn’t stop. Auremar was moving against us, and the Heirloom remained broken. I had only one path forward: keep fighting, keep forging new horrors to defend my territory and the people in it.

Arabella examined the runes more closely. “Let me help you. Maybe I can ease the pain.”

“It won’t work,” I warned. “Regular healing magic won’t go near these runes. They’re carved into my essence.”

“Good thing I’m not regular,” she retorted, meeting my gaze head-on. “Let me try.”

I hesitated, torn between making a snarky remark and giving in to the throbbing misery. Eventually, I nodded. “Go ahead.”

Arabella laid her hand fully across the cluster of runes.

A knife of agony ripped down my arm, but I remained still.

She closed her eyes and summoned a gentle swirl of magic.

My breath caught when I felt warmth flow inside me, far from the scorching brand that typically accompanied my own spells.

Her power took on a deft, coaxing shape, as though creating channels for a raging waterfall.

The runes’ angry flare began to subside, tapering to a deep ache I could endure. I inhaled shakily, flexing my fingers.

It was… manageable. Not gone, but no longer threatening to break me. I stared at her, half in awe and half uneasy at her skill. “How did you do that?”

“I listened,” she said simply. “The magic told me those runes are meant to channel power, but something is blocking them. Something external. I just gave them an outlet, let them redirect a portion of the surge.”

I wiped sweat from my brow, unsettled by her words. If an outside force had begun tampering with my runes, I had bigger problems than fractures in the Heirloom.

“Thank you.” My voice came out rough. “I… appreciate it.”

A relieved smile flickered across her features. “You’re welcome. But I want a full explanation of this Bone Behemoth. It sounds… insane.”

Despite my exhaustion, I found a tiny grin. “It stood tall enough to smash a battalion. If I hadn’t lost focus, it would have knelt at my command.”

“And now it’s a pile of bones,” she pointed out drily, raising an eyebrow. “Next time, maybe start smaller. A bone kitten, perhaps?”

That sentence caught me off guard, and a laugh burst from my mouth before I could stop it. I winced when my ribs protested. “Yes, that would certainly maintain my terrifying reputation.”

“On the bright side, a bone kitten is less likely to maim you or bring the ceiling down.” She pushed a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. The simple gesture made my heart pound harder than it should have.

I tried to swallow down my discomfort at her tenderness. “Lady Blackrose, are you actually concerned for me?”

Her expression softened. “Surprise. I’m not eager to watch you tear yourself apart just yet.”

I cleared my throat. I wanted to mock her for coddling me, but ironically, I appreciated the honesty. “Sorry to disappoint you by not dying this evening,” I said lightly, though my tone lacked its usual venom.

She rose to her feet, gaze drifting to the runes scarring my arm. “Will you tell me someday about your mother, about how she… did this to you?”

I froze. No one asked that question. Even mentioning my mother’s vile enchantments brought back memories I’d rather bury. I closed my eyes for a moment. “Perhaps,” I murmured, a quiet concession that tasted foreign. “Someday.”

She offered a slow nod, not pushing me further. Outside in the corridor, footsteps echoed faintly—servants going about their duties. Meanwhile, my arm still tingled from her healing magic.

“Do you want me to help you up to our tower?”

I shook my head. “I’d rather stay here a bit… find where I left my pride.”

Arabella studied my face, then placed her hand lightly atop mine instead of replying. I squeezed her fingers once, then watched her slip from the study.