The Broken Imperium (Wickem Academy #3)

Chapter 1

Marigold

I TWISTED MY FATHER’S RING on its chain as I scanned the crowd at the Denver airport. The weight was familiar, comforting—something I’d worn since before I even knew I was a witch.

One month. That’s all that had passed since we’d exposed the conspiracy and healed the academy’s wellspring. Since the Lightfords escaped. Since Lord Raynoff scrambled to form the emergency council and started gluing the government back together.

The college extended winter break through January—officially to give students time to recover with their families. Unofficially? It gave them time to figure out how to pretend things were stable again.

One month since I’d left for Albany to try and fix things with my mom.

Yet it felt like a year.

I caught sight of two familiar figures waiting near the arrival screens.

Keane spotted me first. I could tell by the way his posture shifted, the almost-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked like himself again—tall and lean in charcoal layers, his black hair falling into those blue eyes that always saw too much.

Beside Keane stood Elio. From a distance, he looked the same, like the perfect blond pretty boy.

But up close, the polish had cracked. His shirt was wrinkled, one cuff half-unbuttoned.

Small things, but they hit hard. Like the shine had worn off while he sifted through his parents’ secrets and tried to carry what was left.

Then Elio looked up and saw me.

Marigold! His voice carried across the crowd—warm and unguarded. His familiar shifted on his shoulder, Echo's crystalline scales blooming into happy blues and greens.

That did it. My feet moved before I could think. I dropped my duffel and ran.

They didn’t hesitate. Keane opened his arms, and Elio met me halfway. I crashed into both of them, enveloped in their embrace. For a second, everything was still. My chest ached with it.

Wisp shimmered into view at Keane’s feet, more solid than I’d seen her since the corruption. Scout chattered from my pocket, his tiny skull nose twitching.

I missed you, I whispered.

We missed you too, Elio said, his hand brushing my hair—tentative and careful, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

I held them both for a moment, letting myself feel the rightness of us.

Keane’s lips brushed my temple. Welcome home.

Warmth bloomed just under my ribs, slow and real. The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did.

Was Wickem home now? Or was it just them?

My heart kicked hard, like it didn’t know which direction to pull.

Keane was steady beside me. Elio still felt like something delicate I was trying not to drop. And Cyrus… he’d left heat and silence in equal measure. One night. One month of nothing.

It was a lot. Too much, maybe. And I still didn’t know if wanting them all meant I could actually hold any of it together.

I shook my thoughts away as we stepped back. Elio went to grab my bag while Keane slid an easy arm around my waist. I leaned into him.

Home. I was home.

I couldn’t wait to get back to campus and check on everyone. I’d kept in touch with Keane, Elio, and Aurora. Lucas had called a couple times—mostly to make terrible jokes about his winter training regimen and casually pretend he wasn’t worried about any of us.

But Cyrus was complicated. And Raven…

Raven hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t answered any of my messages. A whole month of silence.

Lucas said she was fine—just dealing with family stuff—but I’d heard the hesitation in his voice. He was worried too.

And even in the middle of everything that went down over New Year’s, I’d seen it. The shadows that lingered too long around her fingers. The way Boris’s rhythm had gone sharp and uneven. The way she’d made me promise to stop her if it ever got bad.

My ring was cold against my collarbone. What if it already had, and I’d been too far away to see it clearly?

How was Albany? Keane asked, breaking into my thoughts. Your mom?

Good. Complicated. The usual, I said, falling into step between them as we headed toward the exit.

She’s still wrapping her head around the whole ‘magic is real’ thing—and that I kind of torched Christmas with my ‘research project’ excuse.

Most of January was damage control. But I made good on our raincheck Christmas: cookies, terrible movies, the works.

It was late, but we pretended it still counted. Aunt Nancy even visited.

That’s a lot, Keane said, giving my hand a quiet squeeze.

Yeah, I said, and Mom made me promise to call often. She keeps asking these very careful questions about whether I’m ‘safe.’ I huffed a laugh. Which, sure. Because everything about Wickem just radiates stability.

I glanced between them. And I told her I’d made some good friends—leaving out the part where you’re mostly guys—but she still launched right into the ‘smart choices’ lecture.

Elio’s grin was wicked. Translated: please don’t come home magically pregnant.

Pretty much. Heat crept up my neck. Lots of talk about ‘focusing on my studies’ and ‘not getting distracted,’ which I think was code for: I know what happens at college, and I’m choosing denial. But I did my best to reassure her I’m safe.

Elio gave a half-smile. Right. Start with ‘not being murdered,’ ease into ‘might be dating three guys with very questionable reputations.’

Exactly, I said with a smile. But she is doing really well otherwise. Her cleaning business is picking up, and she’s been taking some night classes at the community college. Accounting.

Pride colored my voice. Mom had spent so many years just surviving, working multiple jobs to keep us afloat. Seeing her finally have the space to think about what she wanted for herself felt like magic of its own kind.

That’s wonderful, Keane said.

The sliding doors whooshed as we stepped out into the crisp January air. I shivered despite my coat. Colorado winters were harsher than Albany’s, all thin air and biting wind.

I had so much to catch up on that I didn’t even know where to start. We’d had some conversations over break, but they’d been brief—careful updates that didn’t quite fill the month-sized gap.

The interim council is still working? I asked.

Keane nodded. But there’s a lot to go through. Who’s compromised and who’s not.

And the vampire situation? I asked cautiously.

Keane’s expression tightened. Complicated. With the council conspiracy exposed, most vampire clans have pulled back. They’re not interested in fighting a manufactured war. But the master’s loyalists… He exchanged a glance with Elio. That’s different.

Guard Parker’s been tracking them through Levon’s network, Elio added. The ones still attacking are specifically his—corrupted and controlled. The rest have gone quiet. Waiting to see how it plays out.

That was something, at least. The endless war that had shaped our entire world—the attacks, the fear, the justification for militant council control—mostly over. Exposed as the lie it had always been.

But the master’s forces were real enough. And more dangerous for being deliberate.

Keane had gone quiet the way he did when something was still forming. I’ve been running portal windows along the ley lines between his known attack sites. There’s a pattern. I haven’t finished working out what it means yet.

You’ll figure it out, I said, and I meant it. He always did.

As we neared the spot where Keane would open the portal, I asked, And how’s Cyrus been? The question came out too casual to be innocent.

They exchanged a glance.

I looked down, fiddling with the button on my coat and pretending it didn’t mean anything while I waited.

Intense, Elio said. He’s been training nonstop. Burning through practice dummies like they said something personal.

Keane picked up the thread. He stayed on campus. His father asked him to because he didn’t want him alone out there. Raynoff is busy with the emergency council trying to clean up everything.

His voice was steady, but he didn’t quite look at me. He didn’t talk about it. Not to us, anyway.

And he’s doing unconscious magic, Elio added. Like… warming the room when your name comes up. Fire turning blue out of nowhere.

He hesitated. He acts like it doesn’t mean anything. But we both saw it.

My stomach flipped. Hard.

We’d never talked about what happened between us. One time. And I’d been trying to figure out what that meant with Keane and Elio right here. Choosing all three didn’t mean knowing how.

Is that… I swallowed. Is that a problem? For you two, I mean?

Keane’s jaw shifted, like he was weighing words. We’ve talked. About all of it. We want you to be happy. If Cyrus is part of that, we’ll figure it out.

And have you seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching? Elio said grinning, but it flickered. It’s kind of sweet… in a brooding, emotionally constipated sort of way.

A portal shimmered to life beside us, perfectly sized for the three of us and the weight we were carrying.

Ready to go home? Keane asked, offering me his hand.

Home. Yes.

Home to three men—heirs to a council that had tried to kill us once. Men I was choosing, even with every instinct screaming that depending on anyone was dangerous.

I’d chosen this. That didn’t mean I knew how to stay or how to trust it would hold.

I took Keane’s hand as Elio’s palm settled against my back.

The portal shimmered, silver and clean—no corruption, no darkness threading through the edges.

So why did stepping through feel like walking toward something waiting with teeth?