Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

17. Kaia

One of Finn's fireballs spirals wild, hurtling straight for Aspen. I react on instinct, shadows erupting from my fingertips in a protective surge. But I've misjudged, overcompensated, and suddenly my power is everywhere, writhing with a life of its own. The air thickens as my shadows burst free, their movement erratic and wild, pulling at the edges of my control. A deep hum vibrates in my chest—a warning or an echo, I can’t tell. Something doesn’t feel right but I can’t stop to think about it. Even Bob loses his usual composure, dissolving into the maelstrom. The shadows writhe and stretch, snaking toward the edges of the arena like living tendrils of ink. I hear startled gasps, the scrape of boots as students step back, but the shadows are too fast, too chaotic. The air is heavy, like trying to breathe through damp wool, and the deep hum in my chest grows louder, more insistent.

"I can't—I can't control it!" The words tear from my throat as Patricia's frantic attempts to catalog the chaos only make it worse. Mouse growls, hackles raised at the surge of power.

And then a figure steps between me and the spreading darkness. His hands move in an intricate pattern, and I feel my magic respond, settling back into my skin. My shadows retreat reluctantly, though they keep their distance from him—even Bob hanging back with unusual wariness.

"Breathe," he says, voice low and steady. "You're safe."

I stare up at him, heart pounding for reasons that have everything and nothing to do with fear. The way he moves, the quiet confidence in his stance—it's both attractive and slightly unnerving. "Who... who are you?"

His storm-gray eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. He's devastatingly handsome, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His dark hair falls in artful disarray, as if he just ran his fingers through it, and I have to resist the urge to do the same.

"Darian Luthar," he says, his voice a low, velvety purr that sends shivers down my spine. "I'm new to Arcanum."

I can’t help but notice him—there’s something almost too deliberate in the way he moves, like every step is part of a game I don’t understand. He's tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist. His black shirt clings to his muscular frame in all the right places, hinting at the strength beneath. Everything about him screams danger and mystery, from the way he holds himself—coiled tension, like a predator ready to strike—to the knowing smirk playing at the corners of his full lips.

Those lips... I shouldn't be staring at them, but I can't help myself. They look soft, inviting, and I find myself wondering what they'd feel like against mine. Heat floods my cheeks at the thought, and I force my gaze back to his eyes.

Big mistake. His gaze is intense, almost hypnotic, and I feel like I'm drowning in those stormy depths. There's something familiar about them, something that tugs at the edges of my memory, but I can't quite place it. It's maddening and intoxicating all at once.

"I... um... thanks," I stammer, cursing my sudden inability to form coherent sentences. "For the help, I mean. With the shadows."

Darian's smirk widens into a full-blown smile, and oh gods, it's unfair how attractive it makes him. "Happy to assist," he says, and even his voice is sexy—deep and rich, with a hint of an accent I can't quite place. "You've got quite the power there."

I should be focusing on his words, on the fact that he somehow managed to control my out-of-control shadows when even I couldn't. But all I can think about is the way his presence seems to fill the entire arena, drawing me in like a moth to flame. There's an aura of power around him, dark and alluring. My shadows curl away from him, an unease moving through them that I can’t understand.

"Yeah, well," I manage, trying to summon some of my usual snark, "I like to keep things interesting."

He chuckles, the sound sending warmth pooling in my belly. "I can see that." His gaze sweeps over me, lingering in a way that makes my skin tingle.

He smiles, and it's like watching a storm break. “And you must be the infamous Kaia Draven."

"Infamous?" I manage to squeak, trying to ignore how my shadows seem to be huddling behind me. "I prefer 'misunderstood,' thank you very much."

"My apologies." His laugh does funny things to my insides, even as Mouse's low growl vibrates against my leg. "Allow me to rephrase. You're the intriguingly misunderstood Kaia Draven, whose reputation precedes her."

Before I can formulate a response that doesn't make me sound completely brain-dead, Finn materializes at my side. My shadows immediately perk up, Finnick doing what appears to be a victory dance.

"Careful there, new guy." Finn's tone is light, but there's an edge I've never heard before. "Our Kaia's got enough admirers without adding to the fan club."

I elbow him in the ribs, willing my face not to burst into flames. "I am not—that's not—" Patricia seems to be taking detailed notes on my eloquent response while Bob hovers protectively nearby.

"You wound me, Trouble!" Finn clutches his chest. "And here I thought we had something special."

I roll my eyes, but I'm grateful for his familiar banter. It helps ground me, even as I find my gaze drawn back to Darian's enigmatic smile. There's something magnetic about him, despite the way my shadows shrink from his presence.

Or maybe because of it.

"Well, I look forward to seeing what other... surprises you have in store, Kaia Draven."

The way he says my name, like he's savoring each syllable, does funny things to my insides.

The temperature around me seems to plummet as Malrik materializes on my other side. He doesn’t seem happy about Darian’s presence if the scowl on his face is anything to go by.

My shadows, caught between retreating from Darian and reaching for Malrik, create an awkward dance that would be comical if I wasn't so confused by the tension crackling through the air. Bob keeps his distance, his usually solid form wisping nervously, while Patricia hovers indecisively. It’s Finnick who darts closest, curious despite the rising tension.

And Finn—he keeps his arm firmly around me, holding me against him like he’s afraid I’ll run off with Darian the moment he lets go.

What have I gotten myself into?

Somewhere in the chaos, Bob attempts to organize an emergency shadow meeting. I pretend not to notice when Finnick starts taking bets.