14. Casandra
Ilinca is a blur of nervous energy, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater until the knuckles are white.
Elena has taken Darius to a private playground on the island’s outskirts. Ilinca doesn’t want her three-year-old in the middle of this, not until we know exactly what kind of man Magnus is.
“He’s coming,” Ilinca whispers, her head snapping toward the door. “I can smell him. He’s in the hallway.”
I stand up from the armchair, smoothing down my black jeans. My own senses pick him up a second later—the scent of rain-drenched earth and something sharp, like crushed pine needles. It’s a grounded smell, far less volatile than the sugary scent that follows Nikolai.
“Breathe, Ili,” I say softly, walking toward the door. “I’m right here. If he so much as growls in a way you don’t like, I’m throwing him off the balcony. Fifth-floor drop. Very effective.”
She lets out a shaky, watery laugh. “You’re terrifying, Cassie.”
“It’s my job to be,” I remind her with a wink.
A hesitant, almost rhythmic knock sounds at the door. It’s the sound of someone who is terrified of being turned away. I pull the door open.
Magnus stands there, looking remarkably different from the feral beast in the lobby. He’s scrubbed clean, his hair combed back, though his eyes are still rimmed with exhaustion. In his hands, he clutches a gold-wrapped box of artisanal chocolates as if it were a shield.
He looks at me, then his gaze drifts past my shoulder to where Ilinca is standing. The air in the foyer practically thrums with the sudden connection.
“Hello,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. He holds the box out toward her, his hands trembling slightly. “I... I didn’t know what to bring. I assumed Ilinca might like these. And I brought a smaller box for you, Casandra. To say thank you.”
Ilinca takes the box, weighing and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. “Chocolates, Magnus? Really?”
Magnus flushes a deep, embarrassed crimson. “I didn’t want to bring flowers. I thought they might... wilt. Or seem too aggressive.”
“Cassie,” Ilinca warns, her voice firm.
I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. For now.” I step aside, gesturing for him to enter. “She’s all yours. Don’t make me regret my hospitality.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I know my limits. As a vampire, even with the door shut, my hearing is sharp enough to pick up the friction of their clothes and the frantic rhythm of their heartbeats. Like werewolves, we are built to hunt.
To give them the privacy they deserve—and to save my own sanity—I grab my noise-canceling headphones and slide them on. I blast some music on full volume, the bass thumping against my temples until the world outside the room ceases to exist.
I collapse onto my bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling. My mind, stripped of the distraction of the apartment, immediately drifts to the one person I’m trying to avoid thinking about.
Nikolai.
That day in the canteen.. I was supposed to reach out to him formally that day. Our fathers had arranged this for months. They are old friends, bonded by the blood and ash of a war that nearly broke the world.
During the Great War, the werewolves were being hunted to the brink by the High Elders.
My family, the Corvins, had watched the slaughter and decided they couldn’t stay silent.
They didn’t agree with the thirst for dominion that drove our own kind.
They believed in equality. So, they switched sides.
They turned their blades against our own kin to save the wolves.
It makes me wonder how the mind-wielding Hawthorne talked about fits into this.
Was he and the other High Elders really just manipulated?
After the war, Romania became the blueprint. It’s the one place where species coexist in true harmony, where you can find a werewolf and a vampire sharing a meal in a sunlit cafe.
But Norway? I’m starting to realize that the equality they agreed to might be a thin veneer.
Nikolai’s reaction to me wasn’t just a personal rejection; it was a symptom of an old, deep-seated prejudice that hasn’t quite burned out.
Even here at Blackmere, where the curriculum is designed to bridge the gap, the students carry the baggage of their ancestors like lead in their pockets.
Is that why Nikolai hates me? Or is it just the shock of a wolf being tethered to a vampire?
The invisible thread in my chest gives a dull, heavy throb. He called me his. He practically claimed me in front of Lukas, even while he looked at me with confusion and disdain.
A soft knock on my bedroom door breaks my internal monologue. I slide the headphones down around my neck.
“Cassie? We’re done.”
I open the door to find Ilinca looking... transformed. The sharp edge of her anxiety has smoothed out, replaced by a soft, cautious glow. Magnus is standing by the foyer, his coat already on. He looks like a man who has been given a second chance at life.
As I walk out, Magnus steps forward, offering his hand.
“Thank you for everything, Cassie,” he says, his voice steady now.
Magnus looks over at Ilinca, and the look of pure, unadulterated devotion on his face makes my throat tighten. He leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.
“I’m looking forward to meeting Darius,” he whispers to her. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Ilinca nods, her hand resting on his arm.
I watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The apartment feels lighter, the predatory tension replaced by a lingering sense of hope. I turn to Ilinca and raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“So?” I ask, leaning against the wall. “Meeting the son already? That’s a big jump from ‘I’m terrified of him finding out.’”
Ilinca lets out a long breath and laughs, a sound that is finally free of shadows. She walks over to the chocolates and starts to unwrap the gold foil.
“We’re taking it slowly, Cassie,” she says, popping a truffle into her mouth and closing her eyes in delight. “But he listened. He actually listened. He didn’t see a complication. He just saw me.”
I smile, feeling a genuine pang of happiness for her. “Good. Because if he hadn’t, I’d already have the silver daggers polished.”
“I know you would,” she giggles, then looks at me seriously. “Now, what are we going to do about your Prince? Because if Magnus is any indication, they don’t give up easily.”
I look toward the window, where the mist is beginning to swallow the trees. “Nikolai doesn’t want me, Ili. There’s a difference.”p