Page 14 of Heir of Shadows

Her chin lifted again, stubborn as ever. “Enemies like vampires?”

“Among others.” I chose my words carefully. “Power draws threats. The separation isn’t about being better—it’s about staying alive.”

“But they’re good enough for them?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the regular student?”

“It’s not a fair system,” I said honestly. “But it is the way it’s always been.”

She frowned.

“Still, it’s not like we’re totally isolated,” I said. “We still go to classes with everyone else, and these dorms have a cafeteria on the first floor—I often grab lunch or dinner there.”

Marigold didn’t respond, but I saw how her eyes lingered on a group of girls sharing coffee and textbooks. Normal students who didn’t have centuries of politics and power weighing on their shoulders.

I’d never wondered what it would be like to be one of them, and for the first time, that felt strange to me. Why hadn’t I? I’d never been one to accept the way things had always been in my studies, why had I accepted it in my life? I sighed.

But as we continued on our way, the royal dorm was already calling her—I could see it in the way shadow magic swirled around her feet, ancient enchantments recognizing one of their own. Each person’s magic had a unique signature, based on their family and their strength, and the royals were always strong—even a half human witch like Marigold.

At the end of the covered walkway, the royal tower rose before us—ancient stone stretching toward the stars, its circular shape both elegant and forbidding. Massive doors dominated the entrance, their dark wood intricately carved with our emblems of power: Cyrus’s leaping flames, my silver-edged portals, Elio’s overlapping masks, and her skull sigil.

“The skull’s yours,” I said. “It’s like a key.”

She approached slowly, almost reverently, tracing the carved skull. Green magic sparked at her touch, following the paths her fingers took like phosphorescent trails. The doors recognized her, swinging open with a deep resonance that reminded me of funeral bells.

The entrance hall rose around us—crystal gleaming, marble polished to a mirror shine, and light from the chandelier scattering in fractured rainbows across the floor. I’d walked through it before. Twice. Maybe three times. Never really looked.

But she did.

She slowed just inside the doorway, eyes wide, head tilting as the light caught in her hair. Her fingers skimmed the stone like she needed to make sure it was real. No mask. No performance. Just wonder.

And the strangest part? I hadn’t seen any of it until she did.

“Through there,” I indicated a discrete archway beneath the sweeping staircase, “you’ll find the kitchens, and your rooms…” I gestured up the spiral steps where Wisp already gilded ahead, her ethereal form painting the stone with ghostly blue light.

“The common room.” I gestured to it as we passed. “We share it as a kind of living room, and breakfast will be served here in the morning.”

I followed her up the stairs, keeping my eyes fixed on the light ahead instead of the way her jeans fit or the subtle sway of her hips.

Easier that way. Safer.

The skull motif appeared again on her door. Unlike the others, these rooms had been sealed since the day her father graduated Wickem. No one else had been powerful enough to claim them.

She pressed her palm to the door. Magic flared, ancient locks recognizing her blood. The door opened with a whisper of power that made Wisp’s form flicker.

I could have left then. Should have left. But I found myself lingering in the doorway, watching as she stepped into her inheritance.

Watching her explore, gently touching each item with quiet reverence. Her necromancy responded to the ancient magic in the room, dead things emerging from the shadows to welcome their new mistress.

“Thank you,” she said softly, turning back to me. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but her voice was steady. “For showing me the way.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Wisp pressed against my leg again, her usual nudge of comfort—but this time, she lingered. She knew what this moment meant, even if I couldn’t name it yet.

“I’ll be going now,” I said, “Close the door behind me.”

She crossed back to the threshold.

But before she could close it, I found myself speaking. “Once that door shuts, no one can enter without your permission. Not even other heirs.” I hesitated, then added, “Not even our illusions or portals can breach it. The rooms are yours alone.”

She paused, hand on the doorframe. “Why are you telling me this?”

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