22. Kaia
The corridors of Arcanum whisper with secrets as I make my way to class. It's been a week since Darian's magic wrapped around mine, since his touch left me feeling both thrilled and wrong in ways I can't explain. My shadows have clung closer than usual, agitated and skittish, when a familiar voice cuts through my brooding.
"Kaia! Hold up!"
A flash of lavender hair bobs through the crowd like an exotic bird. Seren practically bounces to my side, her mismatched earrings—one a tiny dragon, the other a crescent moon—jangling merrily. The sight of her loosens something in my chest.
"Where have you been?" I ask, relief flooding through me. "I was starting to think one of your experimental portals had finally swallowed you whole."
"Family drama." Seren rolls her eyes, falling into step beside me. Her satchel clinks with what I’m sure are dubiously legal magical ingredients. "I’ve been gone for a week dealing with Gran's divination mirror. It cracked, and you know how she gets about omens. I had to talk her down from sealing the entire house in protective runes. Even the outhouse, Kaia. The outhouse."
I can't help but laugh, picturing Seren's eccentric grandmother frantically scrawling symbols on every available surface. "Please tell me you at least brought back some of her chaos cookies you’ve told me so much about."
"As if I'd dare return without them." She pats her bag, which emits a faint purring sound. "Though I'm starting to regret ever mentioning them, since now I have to share. But enough about my domestic disasters." Her eyes glitter with mischief. "How's your smorgasbord of sexy treating you?"
Heat creeps into my cheeks. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Well, what would you call it? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got yourself quite the collection of drool-worthy specimens circling." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Come on, spill. I want all the juicy details I missed."
"It's..." I hesitate as my shadows coil tighter. "Complicated. There's been some tension lately. And then there's Darian—"
Seren stops dead in her tracks, nearly causing a pile-up in the hallway. "Darian? As in Darian Luthar? Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Magically-Delicious himself?"
"You know him?"
"Know him?" Seren's laugh has an edge of hysteria. "Kaia, darling, everyone knows Darian Luthar. He's practically academy royalty. And have you seen the way he moves? It's like watching living shadow given form."
Damn. Breathe, girl.
My stomach twists. I'd known Darian was skilled, but hearing Seren gush about him makes me question my own misgivings. "He's been helping me with my shadow work," I admit.
Seren's squeal echoes off the stone walls, drawing curious stares from passing students. "Private lessons with Darian Luthar? Kaia, you lucky witch!" She grabs my arm, practically vibrating. "How have you not spontaneously combusted from the sheer hotness?"
"It's not like that," I protest, even as something warm and dangerous flutters in my chest. "It's just training."
"Uh-huh." Her skepticism could cut glass. "I’ve been back a day and already I’m seeing Malrik and Finn act like jealous watchdogs. What happened while I was gone?"
I stumble, nearly tripping over my own shadows. "What do you mean?"
Seren's expression sobers. "You really haven't noticed? In Magical Theory, when Professor Thorne mentioned your 'special sessions,' those two actually agreed on something. The looks they were exchanging..." She shivers. "Let’s just say I’ve seen less intense planning sessions before actual battles."
"Perfect," I groan, rubbing my temples. "Just what I need. More drama."
"Hey," Seren's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. Her usual playfulness gives way to genuine concern. "You okay? I know I joke, but seriously – if any of this is too much..."
I force a smile. "I'm fine. Really. It's just..."
"A lot?" She nods. "Well, if you ever need a break from all the testosterone and brooding, you know where to find me. We can stuff our faces with chaos cookies and practice hexing the patriarchy."
That pulls a genuine laugh from me. "Thanks, Ser. I might take you up on that sooner rather than later."
As we round the corner to our next class, a familiar figure materializes from the shadows. Malrik steps into our path, silver eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes the air feel thick. The rest of the world seems to fade away, sounds muffling as though underwater.
"Kaia," he says softly. "A word?"
Seren’s eyebrows shoot up, and she gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. "I’ll save you a seat," she whispers, practically skipping into the classroom. "Try not to get devoured by the sexy shadow man!"
Heat floods my cheeks as I turn back to Malrik. He's closer now, having moved with that liquid grace that makes him seem more shadow than man. My own shadows curl around us both, as if trying to draw us even nearer. The air between us feels charged, dangerous.
"What's up?" I ask, aiming for casual and missing by miles.
Malrik studies me for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. "Be careful with Darian," he says, voice pitched low enough that I have to lean in to hear him. "He's not what he seems."
"What are you talking about?" The warmth in my chest curdles into defensiveness. "Darian's been nothing but helpful."
Malrik's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath his pale skin. "There are things you don't know about him. About his past—"
"Stop." I cut him off, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Is this what all of that was about in class last week? You all think I can't take care of myself? That I need protection from the big, bad shadow mage?"
My shadows flare in response to my anger, coiling around my arms like dark vines. But Malrik doesn't back away. If anything, he moves closer, until I can see the faint violet flecks in his silver eyes.
"This isn't about protection," he says, each word carefully measured. "It's about power. And the price it demands." His hand lifts, almost touching my cheek before dropping away. "Just... watch how your shadows react when he's near. They see what you're choosing to ignore."
The warning bell rings, sharp and intrusive. Malrik steps back, his usual mask of cool indifference sliding into place.
"Ask yourself why Thorne chose him to train you," he adds quietly. "Of all people."
I scoff, glaring at him.
That's ridiculous, right?
Before I can respond, he melts into the shadows, leaving me with the ghost of his almost-touch on my skin and questions burning in my throat. My shadows twist restlessly around my ankles, and for the first time, I wonder if they're trying to tell me something I've been too stubborn to hear.
Mouse appears at my feet, violet eyes gleaming with unusual intensity. He headbutts my leg gently, as if in warning or comfort—I'm not sure which.
What terrifies me most is the growing certainty that Malrik might be right. And if he is, what exactly have I gotten myself into?