39. Kaia
"You look like you're trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing," Torric observes, his usual bluntness oddly comforting.
I snort. "That obvious?"
"Only to those of us paying attention." His rune pulses faintly as we turn, and I realize he's using it to track something—or someone—through the crowd. "Which, by the way, is more people than you think."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He spins me, and I catch a glimpse of Finn and Malrik having what looks like an intense discussion near one of the giant windows. Aspen stands between them and the rest of the crowd, his casual pose not quite hiding his defensive stance.
"It means," Torric says as he pulls me back, "that some of us actually give a damn about what happens to you. Whether you want us to or not."
"I never asked for—"
"Protection?" He raises an eyebrow. "Good thing we're not asking permission then." He keeps his tone light, but the flicker of worry in his golden eyes betrays him. For all his bravado, Torric's concern feels as solid as the rune pulsing faintly on his chest.
I open my mouth to argue, but movement near the edges of the room catches my eye. Thorne is walking purposefully toward a side door, and Darian is nowhere to be seen.
My shadows ripple with sudden urgency, and my necklace pulses warm against my skin.
Something's coming. I feel it in my bones, in the thickening magic that clings to every breath.
Finn
Everything goes to hell when the constellations start bleeding silver.
"That's not good," I mutter, watching droplets of starlight fall like rain. The other students seem mesmerized by the display, oohing and ahhing at what they probably think is part of the show.
They don't notice how the drops sizzle when they hit the ground. Or how they're forming a pattern around—
"Kaia," Malrik breathes, already moving. I grab his arm.
"Wait. Look."
Torric has maneuvered Kaia to the edge of the room, keeping her away from the worst of the magical discharge. Smart guy, even if he looks like he's about to murder someone. Probably Darian, who's watching the whole thing with poorly concealed interest.
"I think someone's trying to trigger her necklace," Malrik says quietly. "The alignment is amplifying its power."
"Yeah, I got that part. Question is: what do we do about it?"
A shadow—Bob, definitely Bob—tugs at my pant leg urgently.
"I know, buddy. We're working on it."
Kaia
The world has gone slightly silver at the edges, and my skin feels too tight. My amethyst necklace pulses against my chest in time with the falling starlight, each beat sending ripples of warmth through my body.
"Don't look up," Torric murmurs, his hand firm on my waist as he guides me through another turn. "Just keep dancing."
"What's happening?" I try to glance at the constellations again, but he smoothly blocks my view.
"Nothing good. But we've got it handled."
"We?"
His rune flares briefly. "I told you, I’m not the only one who's been paying attention."
Before I can demand clarification, the temperature around us drops sharply. My shadows coil tighter, and I swear I can feel them trembling.
Across the room, Thorne raises his hand in what looks like a casual gesture. But I recognize the pattern his fingers trace in the air—it's the same one he taught me for binding shadows.
Except this is bigger. Much bigger.
The falling starlight begins to spiral, forming intricate patterns that remind me of—
"Interesting, isn't it?"
I jump at Darian's voice. He's suddenly beside us, smile pleasant but eyes sharp.
"The way magic responds to emotion. To power." He holds out his hand. "One more dance?"
My shadows practically hiss, pressing against Torric's legs like they're seeking shelter.
"She's good here," Torric growls, his rune pulsing brighter.
Darian's smile doesn't waver. "I wasn't actually asking."