Chapter 12
Sometime deep in the night, I wake to darkness. The candles are out. That's wrong. My mother's candles don't go out unless magic makes them. The room is black. Completely black.
I sit up slowly, heart pounding. "Valerius?"
No answer. The chair by the window is empty. Cold spills across the floor. My wrist burns. Then a whisper slides through the dark. Valentina.
I can't breathe. The shadow at the foot of my bed moves.
Not Valerius. Something taller. Thinner.
I open my mouth to scream— Black fire explodes between me and the thing.
Valerius appears out of the darkness like he was carved from it, one arm thrown out, Shadowflame roaring from his hand.
He stands barefoot on my floor, hair disheveled, eyes burning gold-black in the dark.
"Behind me," he snarls.
This time, I move. I scramble from the bed and stumble toward him, my hand catching the back of his shirt. The thing at the foot of my bed tilts its head. No face. Only shadow stretched too thin and a mouth made of pale fire.
It whispers again. Starling.
Valerius's Shadowflame turns violent. "Say her name again," he says, voice deadly soft, "and I'll burn whatever tongue you borrowed."
The thing smiles. Then vanishes. The candles reignite all at once. Valerius stands between me and the foot of my bed, his breathing harsh, black fire still curling around his fingers. My hand is fisted in his shirt. His shoulders rise and fall beneath my grip.
For one moment, neither of us moves. Then he turns. His eyes sweep over me with a panic he doesn't hide fast enough. "Did it touch you?"
I shake my head.
His hands close around my shoulders, firm and trembling. "Did it touch you?"
"No," I whisper. "No."
His eyes search mine. The bond mark burns between us.
Then, slowly, like the answer costs him more than any fight, Valerius pulls me against his chest.
His arms come around me, and I freeze for one shattered second before my body gives in.
I press my face against him. His heart pounds beneath my cheek.
Fast. Alive. Afraid. His hand settles at the back of my head, fingers threading carefully through my hair.
"You're not sleeping alone again," he says. His voice is rough. Final.
This time, I don't argue. I close my eyes against his chest while the candles burn around us and the bond glows warm beneath my sleeve.
And I realize, with a terror deeper than any shadow at the foot of my bed, that the thing I should fear most tonight is not the darkness that came for me. It is how safe I feel in his arms right now.
Valerius's arms stay around me. For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
My voice comes out small. "Where were you?"
His hand stills in my hair. "When you woke up?" I nod against his chest. "The ward at the window flickered." His voice lowers. "I checked it."
The window. I go cold all over again. The chair is near the window. He must have stood to check the ward. That means the shadow came when there was distance between us. Not much. Only across the room. But enough. Enough for the candles to die. Enough for it to appear at my bed.
I pull back just enough to look up at him.
His face is shadowed in candlelight, sharper because of the hour, darker because of whatever fury he has not released.
His black hair is messy from sleep, falling over his forehead in a way that makes him look younger for half a second before his eyes ruin the illusion.
His eyes are not young. His eyes look like they have been watching monsters for a long time. "Did it come through the window?" I whisper.
"No." He says softly.
"Then how?" I ask.
His jaw tightens. "I don't know."
That answer again. I used to think not knowing was my private punishment. Now it seems to belong to both of us. His gaze drops to my shoulders, my arms, my throat, checking again for damage. The attention makes my skin warm in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
I fold my arms around myself. "It knew my name."
His expression darkens. "Valentina."
"And Starling." My voice trembles. "It said both."
The Shadowflame around his fingers flickers once, then vanishes because he forces it down. "I heard."
I look toward the foot of my bed. There is nothing there now. Only the end of the blanket where it hangs unevenly, one corner fallen to the floor from when I scrambled out. The shadows beneath the bed are ordinary again.
That does not make me feel better. "I don't want to sleep," I whisper.
"You need to." He says.
"I can't." I shake my head. Scared.
"You can." He narrows his eyes at me. I give him a look, weak but pointed. His mouth tightens. Then he releases a slow breath. "You can because I'm staying awake."
The words should comfort me. They do but they don't at the same time because the thought of lying in that bed while he sits across the room in a chair suddenly feels impossible. Too much space. Too much darkness between us. Too much room for shadows to grow mouths.
I look at the bed. Then at him. The question forms in my throat and refuses to leave.
No. Absolutely not. I can't ask this. I can't ask Valerius Draven, the academy's cruelest, most dangerous boy, to climb into my bed because I am scared of the dark like a child.
Except I am scared. Not of the dark. Of what knows how to move inside it.
His eyes sharpen, reading something on my face before I can bury it. "What?"
"Nothing." I shake my head.
"Valentina." He says my name is softer this time which makes my stomach flip.
I close my eyes for half a second. Then I force myself to look at him because if I say this to the floor, I will lose my courage entirely. "Can you..." My voice breaks, and I hate it. "Can you sleep beside me?"
Valerius goes completely still. The entire room seems to go still with him. My face burns so hot I almost step back.
"I don't mean—" I rush out. "I mean, just sleep. I'm scared, and I know that sounds pathetic, but I don't want you across the room. I don't want the door between us. I don't want..." I glance toward the foot of the bed and my throat tightens. "I don't want space for it to come back."
His eyes hold mine. No mockery. None at all. That almost undoes me. He should say something sharp. Something cold. Something that reminds me who he is and who I am supposed to be to him. A burden. A bond. A problem. A girl he once thought was nothing.
Instead, he says, "You're not pathetic." The words hit me hard. I blink too fast. His jaw flexes like the sight hurts him in a way he resents. Then he looks toward the bed. When he speaks, his voice is controlled. Too controlled. "If I stay there, you tell me if you want me to move."
I nod quickly.
"Immediately." He confirms.
"I will." I nod.
"If you feel trapped, you say it." He adds.
"I will." I nod again.
"If the bond reacts—"
I stop him before he can continue. "The bond always reacts."
His gaze returns to mine. The corner of his mouth almost moves. "Then if it reacts differently," he says.
I nod again, slower this time.
He looks at me for another long second, as if searching for hesitation. When he finds none, he turns away. "Get in bed."
The words are rough enough to sound like an order, but this time I hear what lives beneath them.
Fear. Restraint. Something dangerously close to tenderness wearing armor.
I climb back into bed, pulling the blankets up with shaking hands.
My heart beats so hard I feel it in my throat.
Valerius walks to the window first and checks the ward with two fingers.
Black fire flickers across the glass, then sinks into the frame.
He does the same to the door, the walls, even the ceiling above my bed.
Only then does he approach. He pauses at the edge of the mattress.
For once, Valerius Draven looks uncertain. It lasts only a breath.
Then he sits, careful with his weight, like he expects my bed to reject him the way everything in this academy rejects what doesn't belong.
It doesn't. The mattress dips. My breath catches.
He stretches out on top of the blanket at first, stiff and controlled, one arm bent beneath his head, the other resting close enough to the edge that he could move in a second if anything came through the wards.
He leaves space between us. I stare at the ceiling. So does he.
The silence is unbearable. "I can still sit in the chair," he says.
"No." The answer comes too quickly. I feel him turn his head toward me. I keep my eyes on the canopy. "No," I repeat, softer. "Please." The word changes something. Maybe in him. Maybe in me.
He exhales slowly, and the dark pressure of his magic settles around the room like a second layer of walls. "Sleep," he says.
"You keep saying that like it's simple." I say.
"It can be." He suggests.
"For people who don't have shadows at the foot of their bed?" I remind him.
"For people who know something worse is in the room with them."
I turn my head. He is looking at the ceiling again, face expressionless. It takes me a second to understand. Then I almost laugh. It comes out as a broken breath instead. "Are you calling yourself worse?"
"Yes." He nods.
"That's supposed to comfort me?" I ask. Still looking at him.
"It should." He answers.
"It doesn't." I say honestly. His eyes slide to mine. Liar, the look says. The bond warms, agreeing with him. I hate that.
I turn onto my side, facing away from him, and close my eyes. At first, every sound keeps me awake. The faint crackle of the candles. The wind against the window. The soft shift of fabric when Valerius breathes.
Slowly, though, the room begins to change.
Not physically. Inside me. The fear doesn't disappear, but it loosens.
The bond hums low and steady between us, no longer a spark or a burn but a warm thread stretched from his wrist to mine.
His magic rests around the room like a sleeping beast.
Dangerous, yes. But turned outward. Guarding.
The mattress shifts. Only slightly. Valerius moves closer. Just near enough that I feel heat at my back. My eyes open.
"Is this okay?" he asks quietly.