Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

64. Malrik

Hours of planning and questions have taken their toll. I watch as Kaia's responses grow slower, her words dragging like they're weighted down. Her shoulders sag, and her head tilts slightly to the side, as though even holding it upright takes too much effort. Her shadows droop with exhaustion, their once-fluid movements now sluggish and uneven, pooling at her feet. Even Bob's militant posture has softened, though he still maintains his guard near the door with Carl and Steve at his side.

"Enough," I say finally, cutting off Finn's fifteenth question about time travel logistics. "She needs rest."

"I'm fine," Kaia protests, but the way she's curled deeper into my armchair betrays her.

"You're barely conscious," I point out. "And my bed's right there."

She blinks owlishly at the bed in the adjacent chamber, as if just noticing it. "I can't take your—"

"You can and you will," I say, my tone firm but not unkind. I gesture to the others, meeting each of their eyes briefly to drive home the importance of rest. "We'll finish discussing theories of temporal magic and immortal soul-stealers tomorrow." Beneath the decisiveness in my words is a quiet resolve, a silent promise that ensuring Kaia's safety is more important than any unanswered questions.

Aspen, ever practical, nods. "He's right. We all need clear heads for this."

"But—" Finn starts, then catches my look. "Right. Sleep. Good plan. Excellent plan, even. Though I still want to know about the wings—"

"Tomorrow," I say firmly.

They file out, though not without protest—Finn's theatrical, Torric's gruff, Aspen's concerned. Mouse watches it all with patience in his violet eyes, then hops down from my desk.

"I'll stand guard," he says, and I'm still not used to hearing that voice in my head. He pads to the doorway, tail swishing. "The shadows will wake us if anything approaches."

Kaia doesn't protest as I help her to her feet, which tells me more about her exhaustion than anything else. Her shadows follow sluggishly as I guide her to my bed.

"I really can't—" she starts, but I silence her with a look.

"You can barely stand. Sleep."

She sinks onto the bed, immediately curling into the sheets and something in my chest tightens at how small she looks suddenly. The weight of centuries seems to press down on her shoulders, and I find myself wanting to shield her from it, however impossible that might be.

I turn to leave, but her hand shoots out, catching my wrist. "Wait." Her voice is barely a whisper, fragile as glass. "Please... don't go?" The vulnerability in her tone slices through me. My chest tightens, and for a moment, the weight of her trust feels overwhelming. Her shadows curl around both our hands, their warmth almost pleading, and I feel an unspoken promise settle deep within me: I will not fail her.

"I'll stay," I say softly, and sink down to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sleep, Kaia. I'm not going anywhere."

She tugs weakly at my arm until I give in, hesitating for only a moment before stretching out beside her. The warmth of her shadows brushes against me as she turns, curling into my side, and I feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against my chest. The intimacy of the moment is startling, but I let it settle over me like her shadows—gentle, protective, and binding. Mouse settles at the foot of the bed, his violet eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles against my shoulder. "For not telling you sooner. For trying to—"

"Sleep," I say again, gentler this time. "We have time."

She makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob. "Time. Right."

But her breathing evens out quickly, exhaustion finally winning. I lie there in the darkness, watching her shadows—the fallen Valkyries—maintain their silent vigil. Bob takes up a guard position by the window while Patricia continues taking notes, though more drowsily now. Even Finnick has settled, curled protectively near Kaia's feet with Linda. The rest of her shadows curled protectively around her, their once-tense movements now softened into something almost tender. They seemed to hold her together in ways she couldn’t yet voice.

I should be processing what we've learned. Planning our next move. Considering the implications of a time-traveling Valkyrie with an army of shadow-bound souls in my arms.

Instead, I find myself memorizing the way she fits against me—the gentle weight of her body, the way her warmth seeps through my shirt, grounding me. Her breath is steady now, soft against my chest, and I marvel at the trust it takes to let go so completely. The shadows cocooning us add a quiet hum of energy, a living testament to the bond we've only just begun to understand. Her hand still grips my shirt, as if afraid I'll disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper again, though I know she can't hear me. "Any of us."

Mouse's approval rumbles softly through my mind as the shadows settle around us, keeping watch while their Valkyrie finally rests.