Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
LINDSAY
Later that afternoon, the library is quiet enough that I can actually hear my own thoughts.
I’m tucked into the back alcove on the second floor.
It has a perpetually dusty window seat and a view of the frost-covered quad.
My notebook is open on my lap, but I haven’t written a single word since I sat down.
Instead, I keep tracing the faint, invisible lines where Raiden’s teeth left marks yesterday and where Dorian’s mouth was this morning.
The Veil inside me is calm for once. Too calm. As though it’s waiting to see what stupid thing I’ll do next.
Footsteps—light, quick, and unmistakably Tamsin—echo up the spiral staircase before she even appears.
“You’re late,” I say before I even see her.
Tamsin rounds the corner like she’s been summoned by chaos itself—combat boots thumping, red hair exploding loose from what used to be braids, eyes already lit with that particular brand of gleeful trouble that means she’s about to pry something out of me, whether I like it or not.
She drops onto the window seat beside me so hard the whole bench groans in protest. Dust puffs up around us like a tiny explosion.
“Late for what? Girl time? Emotional support? Interrogation?” She snorts, kicking her legs up so her boots rest on the edge of the seat opposite us.
“I’ve been hunting you since lunch. You vanished after Forbidden Magic yesterday and then ghosted the entire dining hall this morning.
People are starting to whisper that you’ve either ascended to godhood or finally snapped and murdered someone in a very sexy way. ”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitches. “I’ve been here. Studying.”
“Uh-huh.” She leans in, squinting at me as if she’s trying to read fine print on my forehead. “You look… glowy. Not the usual ‘I just survived another near-death experience’ glow. This is new. This is pleased-with-myself glow. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“Liar.” She pokes my cheek. “Your face is doing the thing. The thing where it tries to look innocent but actually screams ‘I did something delicious, and I’m not sorry.’ Who was it? Raiden again? Because those bite marks you keep glamouring are getting harder to hide, babe.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I shove her hand away. “It wasn’t Raiden.”
Her eyes go comically wide. “Nolan? Sweet baby nerd Nolan finally grew a spine and pinned you against a bookshelf?”
“No.”
“Kael? Because if Shadow Daddy finally stopped brooding long enough to put his mouth on you again I need every detail immediately.”
I bury my face in my hands for a second, then peek at her through my fingers. “It was Dorian.”
Silence.
Actual, stunned silence from Tamsin.
Then she explodes.
“DORIAN?!” She grabs both my shoulders and shakes me like a snow globe.
“The fae prince? Golden retriever energy, yet slightly terrifying, wrapped in sin? The one who flirts with furniture? You kissed him? When? Where? How? On a scale of ‘peck on the cheek’ to ‘I forgot my own name for ten minutes’ how good was it?”
I can’t help it—I laugh. Hard. The sound bounces off the dusty bookshelves and makes the quiet alcove feel alive.
“Somewhere between ‘forgot my name’ and ‘might have forgotten how gravity works for a second,’” I admit.
She squeals—high-pitched, delighted, with zero shame—and throws her arms around me in a crushing hug.
“I knew it! I knew he was circling you like a shark with expensive taste. He’s been watching you for weeks—those little lingering looks, the way he always shows up exactly when you need distracting.
Tell me everything. Did he sparkle? Did he use fae magic?
Did he call you pet names? Did he taste like winter and bad decisions? ”
I pry her off just enough to breathe. “He called me ‘stormling.’ A lot. And yes, the magic was…involved. It felt like sunlight curling around every nerve. Teasing and…inviting. Like he was daring me to take more.”
Tamsin fans herself with one hand. “I’m deceased. I’m actually dead. Bury me under the smutty details.”
“There aren’t that many details,” I protest, though my cheeks are burning. “We kissed. A lot. In the astronomy tower. Then Kael showed up because of the rift, and everything went to hell again.”
She deflates a little. “Of course it did. Nothing in this place is allowed to be uncomplicated for more than five minutes.” Her expression sharpens again. “Wait. Did Kael see you two? Like, mid-kiss?”
I nod miserably.
She cackles. “Oh my gods. The drama. The tension. The shadows. Did he growl? Did he try to murder Dorian with his eyeballs? Did he kiss you too just to stake his claim? I just know those two have some sort of torrid history.”
“He…didn’t murder anyone. But he looked like he wanted to. And then he left. Fast.”
Tamsin whistles low. “That man is so wound up he’s going to snap one day and either propose or start a war. Possibly both at once. You should forgive him.”
I drop my head back against the wall, staring at the cracked ceiling. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Tams. Every time I let one of them closer, the bond gets louder. The Veil likes it. It feeds. And I’m terrified that I’m just…fattening it up for whatever’s coming.”
She sobers instantly. Reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Hey. You’re not feeding a monster. You’re feeding yourself.
Your power. Your connections. The Veil might be using it, twisting it, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop living.
You deserve to feel wanted. Cherished. Even if it’s messy and terrifying and involves way too many emotionally constipated supernatural men. ”
I manage a small, watery laugh. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“It is romantic. In a ‘we might all die tomorrow so let’s make out in abandoned towers’ kind of way.” She bumps my shoulder. “So. Are you going to kiss him again?”
I think about Dorian’s mouth—slow and teasing. The way he looked at me as if I was the only interesting thing left in the world.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Probably.”
Tamsin grins like she just won a bet with the universe.
“That’s my girl. Collect them all. Break some curses. Survive the apocalypse. And when you inevitably end up in a pile of limbs and magic burn-out, I’ll bring popcorn and commentary.”
I shove her lightly. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m still the best.” She hops off the bench, offering me her hand. “Come on. Dinner. You need food before you go collect another one tonight.”
I take her hand and let her pull me up.
Maybe Tamsin’s right. Maybe storms don’t have to apologize for raging. They just have to keep moving forward. With everyone who’s brave enough to stand in the rain beside them.
Tamsin’s grin is still lingering when we push through the heavy library doors and step into the corridor.
The late-afternoon light slants through the tall, arched windows in long golden bars across the stone floor, but the air already carries that crisp bite that says winter is settling in for good.
We fall into step together, heading toward the east wing and dinner—or at least the pretense of it.
She’s still buzzing from the Dorian confession, half-skipping beside me, combat boots thudding an erratic rhythm.
“Okay, but seriously,” she says, looping her arm through mine, “you have to tell me if he did that thing where he makes everything feel like summer. I’ve heard royal fae magic can literally make you smell flowers that don’t exist. Did you smell flowers? Be honest.”
I snort. “No flowers. Just…warmth. Like sunlight on skin after you’ve been cold too long.”
She makes an exaggerated swooning sound and fans herself with her free hand. “I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”
We turn the corner toward the grand staircase, voices and clatter from the dining hall drifting up from below, when I slow my steps. Tamsin notices immediately—her arm tightens around mine.
“What?” she asks, voice dropping from playful to alert in half a second.
I glance around and lower my own voice.
“I’m going to cast it,” I say.
She doesn’t ask what. She already knows. The spell.
The one Kael and I found in that sealed grimoire a few nights ago, the one that made the air feel thick and watchful the second I opened it. The sigil with its thorns and staring eyes. The single line of text that translated itself in my head as though it had been waiting for me to read it.
To pierce the veil of lies and see what was hidden.
Tamsin’s steps falter. She pulls us both to a stop in the shadow of a towering statue of some long-dead headmaster.
“You’re serious,” she says quietly.
“Dead serious.”
She searches my face, the mischief gone now, replaced by something fiercer—worry wrapped in loyalty.
“Are you sure?”
“I decided this morning. After Dorian. After feeling the bond light up again and the shadows inside of me just…listening. As though they are waiting for me to make the next move.” I swallow.
“I can’t keep going half-blind, Tams. Everyone’s holding pieces back—Kael with whatever he still won’t say about the prophecy, Auron and his father’s orders, even Raiden sometimes looks at me like he’s afraid of what I’ll become if I know the whole truth.
If this spell shows me everything—the lies, the secrets, what the Veil actually wants from me—then at least I stop being the only one in the dark.
I am part of the very heart of the Veil, and I know what he wants from me… but what does everyone else want?”
Tamsin exhales through her nose, long and slow.
“And if it rips something open inside you?” she asks. “The Veil’s already changing you every time you push your power. What if this…speeds it up? What if you see things you can’t unsee?”
“I know the risk.” My voice stays steady, even though my stomach twists.
“That’s why I haven’t told the guys. Kael would try to stop me—he’d probably wrap me in shadows and lock me in a warded room if he thought I was serious.
Raiden would growl and pace and try to carry me off somewhere safe.
Nolan would research counter-spells for three days straight.
Dorian would flirt his way into talking me out of it, while somehow making me want to do it more.
Auron…” I trail off. “Auron would just look at me like I’m finally proving I’m the monster his father always said I was. ”
Tamsin’s mouth quirks—just a little—at the accuracy.
“So you’re telling me instead.”
“You’re the only one who won’t try to physically stop me,” I say. “And you’re the only one I trust to be there if it goes wrong. I mean, I trust Kael, Raiden, and Nolan…but they want to protect me from everything.”
She studies me for another long beat, then nods once—sharp, decisive.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” She squeezes my arm. “I’m not going to talk you out of it. I know better. But I’m also not letting you do it alone. When? Where?”
“Tomorrow night. The old council chamber under the east wing—the one they sealed after the last major breach. The containment runes are still intact. If anything slips…it should hold long enough for us to contain it.”
“Should,” she echoes, dry as dust.
“Should,” I agree. “And if it doesn’t…at least you’ll know where to start looking for what’s left of me.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no humor in it this time. “Not funny.”
“A little funny.”
“Not even a little.” She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug—brief but bone-crushing. “I’ll be there. I’ll bring snacks. And a fire extinguisher. And maybe something sharp in case we need to stab whatever crawls out of your head.”
I hug her back, laughing despite the knot in my chest.
“Thank you, Tams.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She pulls away, smirking again, though her eyes stay serious. “Thank me when we survive whatever nightmare reel this spell decides to play on your personal horror channel.”
We start walking again—slower now—toward the staircase and the noise of dinner below. And I can feel the Veil magic humming inside of me, a low approving sound. It wants me to know all of the secrets, and part of me wonders if it will help me or hurt me.
The one thing I know is, I don’t want to hurt innocent people, and if my shadow magic—if it is mine—continues to be out of control with my emotions, then I will.