“So, you decided to protect me?” The words came out sharper than intended. “By keeping me in the dark?”

  “You’d just discovered you were a Resonant. The Concordat was watching your every move. I thought…” He shook his head. “I convinced myself that shielding you from more complications was the right choice.”

  Vesper gathered a handful of fallen papers, focusing on the familiar texture rather than the ache in her chest. “I’m not some delicate flower that needs protecting, Rafe. I needed to know what we were up against.”

  “I know that now.” The rawness in his voice made her look up. “I was wrong. About all of it.”

  “I understand wanting to find your family.” Her voice came out tight, controlled despite the betrayal that threatened to choke her. “But Marina nearly succeeded in destroying everything—and you let her in.” Rafe flinched at her words, but she pressed on. “Do you even know what she was trying to make you do? What that spell was designed for?”

  He shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze.

  “Your magic was becoming unstable for a reason.” Vesper pushed herself up from the floor, using the bookshelf for support. “Each time she fed you those false memories, she was corrupting your magic. Building pressure.” She steadied herself, watching his expression. “You were meant to be a bomb, Rafe. Set to go off inside Thornhallow.”

  The colour drained from his face. He gripped the window frame, knuckles white. “She…what?”

  “The explosion would’ve taken out half the manor.” Vesper’s voice cracked. “And everyone inside it.”

  Rafe stumbled back from the window, horror etched across his features. His shoulders hit the wall as the full weight of Marina’s manipulation sank in.

  “I would’ve helped you find answers about your past,” Vesper said quietly. “I would’ve tried to find echoes for you, and even the Echo itself, but I can’t trust you right now. And we both know trust isn’t something that comes easy in Nightreach.”

  She pushed away from the bookshelf, her legs steadier now. “Marina will know what I am the moment she realises her spell is gone. A normal mage couldn’t have unpicked that kind of magic, especially not one rooted in witchcraft, and especially not a beginner.”

  Rafe’s expression tightened. “We could postpone the trial⁠—”

  “No.” Vesper shook her head. “The third trial has to happen. After that, everyone will know what I am, anyway. There’s no avoiding it now.”

  “You’ll be in the heart of Thornhallow.” Rafe stepped forward, hands clenched. “The Concordat won’t just let you walk away once they discover the truth.”

  Vesper fixed him with a hard stare, letting her anger and disappointment show clearly on her face. “Then it’s your responsibility to make sure they do.”

  The silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Through the window, the last rays of sunlight faded from Nightreach’s twisted skyline, leaving them in the dim glow of magical streetlamps. Neither moved to light more lamps in the room, letting the growing darkness mirror the weight of their broken trust.

  Rafe opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. His shoulders slumped in resignation.

  She turned away from him, focusing instead on the scattered papers at her feet. The night pressed against the windows, and somewhere in Thornhallow, Marina was likely already planning her next move.

  It was time Vesper did, too.

  Chapter 16

  Rafe leant against cold stone, watching the ebb and flow of magical folk move through the Bizarre’s winding passages. Merchants hawked their wares, spell-light dancing across weathered faces. A week ago, he would have found comfort in the familiar chaos. Now it felt hollow.

  He felt the remnants of Marina’s spell work still lingering like acid beneath his skin. The betrayal cut deep—not just Marina’s manipulation, but his own weakness in falling for it. False memories of his family, dangled like bait, had nearly led him to destroy everything. And Vesper…

  A witch in emerald robes swept past, and Rafe caught a glimpse of pale pastel magic trailing in her wake. It reminded him of Vesper’s power, how it had grown from tentative sparks to something magnificent. The timid librarian who had stumbled into his life now wielded magic with growing confidence. She had saved him from Marina’s curse without hesitation, even after he had kept so much from her.

  His secrets had driven a wedge between them. The grimoire, the Echo, his fragmented past—he should have trusted Vesper with all of it from the beginning. Now she trained with Ash, while he lurked in shadows, watching the pieces of a greater conspiracy unfold.

  A bitter laugh escaped his lips. He had thought himself her protector, her guide into the magical world. But Vesper had outgrown his careful sheltering. She faced danger head-on while he nursed his wounded pride.

  His brief meeting with Selene, where the witch had asked him to watch for her in the Fold, felt like it’d happened in another lifetime. If Selene had never approached him, he would never have met Vesper.

  Movement caught his eye—a figure in a dark cloak, moving against the flow of traffic. It was his target.

  Rafe straightened, his instincts prickling. The shadows between the market stalls seemed deeper, more alive than they should be, but her magic was unmistakable. He’d learned to recognise it inside Thornhallow the first day they’d met, hoping she was an ally, and not a threat.

  Ember Vance.

  Rafe pushed away from the wall, tracking Ember’s copper-bright magical signature through the market’s twisting paths. She moved with purpose, weaving between stalls draped in shimmering fabrics and crystals that sang with stored power.

  He kept his distance, letting the press of bodies and clash of magical energies mask his presence. The market’s countless enchantments provided perfect cover—no one looked twice at another mage threading through the crowd.

  Ember paused at a stall festooned with dried herbs and smoking censers. The merchant, a wizened woman wrapped in midnight blue, greeted her like an old friend. Their conversation was lost in the market’s din, but Rafe didn’t need to hear it. He needed their routine, their timing.

  This was where Ember came every third night, when the moon hung thin in the sky. The merchant’s stall sat at a crucial junction between three major thoroughfares—perfect for a quick escape. More importantly, it lay near one of the few stable paths through the Fold.

  He mapped the route in his mind: past the fortune teller’s tent with its ever-shifting cards, through the narrow passage where shadow-dealers whispered their trades, then down to the old well that hadn’t held water in centuries. From there, a skilled navigator could slip into the Fold and emerge anywhere in Nightreach—or beyond.

  That’s how Ember was able to enter the Bizarre without being seen. A high ranking Concordat witch, on her own in a place like this, was an easy target, no matter how strong her magic was.

  Rafe tracked Ember’s movements as she stepped away from the stall, a small package wrapped in dark cloth tucked against her side. Her copper hair caught the light of floating market lanterns, making her easy to follow through the press of bodies. The wrapping bore the faint shimmer of preservation magic—definitely ingredients that needed protection.

  He counted her steps, gauging the flow of foot traffic. Too early, and she’d have room to dodge away. Too late, and she’d reach the fortune teller’s tent where the crowd thinned. The timing had to be perfect.

  Three more stalls. Two. Now.

  Rafe stepped out from behind a display of bottled starlight, directly into Ember’s path. Her amber eyes narrowed, instantly alert. Heat radiated from her free hand—not quite flames, but a clear warning that made the air shimmer between them.

  “Didn’t expect to find a Concordat witch shopping in the Bizarre,” Rafe said, keeping his voice low. Around them, market-goers flowed past like water around stones, giving their standoff a wide berth. “Especially not one of Beatrice’s inner circle.”

  “And I didn’t expect to find Vesper’s wayward protector skulking in shadows.” Ember’s fingers flexed, the heat intensifying. “Though perhaps that’s exactly where you belong.”

  Rafe gestured toward a narrow gap between market stalls. “We need to talk. Somewhere private.”

  Ember’s lips thinned, but she followed him into the shadowed alley. The market’s glow filtered past hanging tapestries and stacked crates, casting strange patterns across worn brick. Rafe positioned himself where he could watch both Ember and the alley’s entrance.

  “Whatever you’re planning to say, make it quick.” Ember’s eyes tracked across his face, down his arms, studying his stance. Her own magic probed the air between them, testing for hidden threats or outside influence.

  “Mariana Sinclair wove a compulsion around me, intending to turn me into a magical bomb.” Rafe kept his voice low, though the market’s bustle would mask their words. “It was meant to trigger inside Thornhallow.”

  Rafe watched Ember’s face drain of colour as he detailed Marina’s plot. The fire witch’s hands trembled, causing her package to slip. She caught it before it hit the ground, but her usual composure had cracked.

  “A magical bomb? Inside Thornhallow?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The wards would have⁠—”

  “Shattered. Along with half the manor.” Rafe’s jaw clenched at the memory of Marina’s magic crawling through his veins. “She needed chaos to stage her coup. What better way than a rogue mage destroying the heart of the Concordat? A mage welcomed by Beatrice herself.”

  Ember’s eyes darted toward the market’s glow beyond their alcove. “These are dangerous accusations.”

  “Like the ones surrounding Selene’s death?” The words struck true. Ember’s shoulders stiffened, and the air between them grew thick with suppressed heat. “But it’s not just me she’s been manipulating, Ember. Marina’s been searching for something specific. Something Selene protected.”

  Flames flickered between Ember’s fingers, casting sharp shadows across her face. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Marina wants more than the Concordat.” Rafe kept his voice steady despite the sweat beading on his brow from Ember’s rising power. “She needs a particular type of magic. Rare. Powerful. The kind that could control a certain powerful relic.”

  The heat intensified. Ember stepped closer, her amber eyes reflecting tiny flames. “You’re treading on dangerous ground.”

  “You’d know about that. You’ve been doing it ever since Vesper and I walked into Thornhallow.”

  The fire witch’s eyes narrowed. “And Vesper? What are your intentions toward her?”

  Rafe met her gaze, letting her see the truth in his eyes. “To keep her safe from those who would use her. Like Marina used me.”

  “You know what she is.” It wasn’t a question. The air rippled around them, Ember’s magic pressing against his skin like a hot wind.

  “And it’s about to become common knowledge.”

  Rafe’s carefully constructed walls crumbled as he thought of Vesper, what she faced mere days from now. “She’s not just some pawn in Marina’s game. Vesper is…” His voice caught. “She deserves better than being manipulated by the Concordat’s politics. She went to Thornhallow for help, not manipulation.”

  The flames dancing between Ember’s fingers dimmed as she studied his face. “You care for her.”

  “More than I should.” The admission slipped out before he could stop it. Heat crept up his neck that had nothing to do with Ember’s magic. “But that’s not⁠—”

  “It matters.” Ember’s expression softened. “Selene would have appreciated knowing someone like you watches over her friend.” The package in her arms rustled as she shifted her weight. “Marina’s been gathering support for months. The conservative faction grows stronger each day, but…” She glanced over her shoulder before continuing. “I don’t believe she killed Selene.”

  “D’Arco.” Rafe watched Ember’s reaction carefully. “There are whispers he’s returned.”

  The colour drained from her face. “That’s impossible. He was banished decades ago.”

  “Nothing’s impossible when the Echo’s involved.” Rafe knew he was taking an enormous risk, but Ember had shown kindness to Vesper when they first arrived at Thornhallow. Had warned them about Marina’s scheming. Perhaps she could be trusted with this much, at least.

  “The Echo?” Ember’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Selene never mentioned…”

  “Because she was protecting something far more valuable than just knowledge.” Rafe met Ember’s gaze. “Someone and something.” The grimoire she’d likely stolen from D’Arco himself.

  Understanding dawned in Ember’s amber eyes. The heat between them had faded completely, replaced by the weight of shared secrets.

  “There’s more to this you’re not telling me,” she murmured.

  “Of course. But I’m already risking everything by telling you even a fraction of it. Something I hope you appreciate.” Rafe stepped closer, his voice dropping even lower. “I need your help protecting Vesper during the third trial. Marina’s attempt at using me to trigger her coup hasn’t gone her way, and she won’t let this opportunity pass.”

  “And why should I trust you?” Ember’s amber eyes flickered with an inner flame. “You’ve already admitted to keeping secrets. How do I know you’re not playing both sides?”

  The accusation stung, but Rafe forced himself to meet her gaze. “Because I’ve watched Vesper grow from someone who barely knew magic existed into a force that Marina Sinclair ought to be terrified of. Because she saved me from Marina’s spell without hesitation, even after I betrayed her trust. Because—” His voice cracked. “Because she makes me want to be worthy of the faith she placed in me.”

  “And if protecting her means standing against the Concordat?”

  “Then I’ll stand against them.” The words came without hesitation.

  Ember studied him for a long moment, the flames around her hands casting shifting shadows across her face. “Selene believed in protecting those caught in the crossfire of Concordat politics. The young witches, the initiates, those who haven’t chosen sides.” She adjusted her package, its wrapping crinkling. “I’ll help—but on my terms.”

  Relief flooded through him. “Name them.”

  “I can provide an escape route if things go wrong, nothing more. I won’t move directly against the Concordat, not without evidence.” Her expression hardened. “But I’ll make sure innocent blood isn’t spilt in whatever game Marina’s playing.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Rafe inclined his head. “A way out if Marina tries to trap her.”

  “For her sake,” Ember’s gaze pierced him, “I hope your feelings are as genuine as they seem. Selene died protecting her, and likely more. I won’t let her sacrifice be in vain.”

  “Marina’s plans won’t end with the third trial.”

  “I know. She’s been gathering allies beyond Thornhallow’s walls. Ancient families, conservative elements who fear change.” Ember’s amber eyes flickered with an inner flame. “Whatever she wants with Vesper, it’s part of something larger.”

  Rafe’s stomach twisted. He’d seen Marina’s influence spreading through the Concordat like poison. “How far does her reach extend?”

  “Far enough to make the High Witch nervous.” Ember pressed a small copper disc into his palm. The metal thrummed with stored fire magic. “If things go wrong during the trial, break this. It’ll create a distraction that should give you time to get Vesper clear.”

  “And after?”

  “The old well behind the fortune teller’s tent. It leads to a thread through the Fold that leads to a secluded spot in the north-west corner of Thornhallow’s grounds. The Concordat doesn’t monitor it, so you should be able to use it to get away…if you’re fast enough.” She glanced over her shoulder.

  The copper disc felt impossibly heavy in Rafe’s hand. “Marina will know you helped us.”

  “Let her suspect. She can’t move against me without revealing her own schemes.” Ember’s lips curved in a bitter smile. “Besides, I owe Selene this much.”

  With that, she stepped back into the market’s flow. Her copper hair caught the lamplight once more before vanishing into the evening crowd, leaving Rafe alone with the weight of her warning and a disc of fire magic burning against his palm.

  The morning light crept through Vesper’s bedroom windows, casting long shadows across her scattered notes. Her fingers traced the intricate diagrams Ash had sketched, showing the subtle variations in magical frequencies.

  She closed her eyes, letting her awareness expand. The townhouse’s wards hummed with their familiar rhythm—like a heartbeat beneath her skin. Different from the opalescent shimmer of her own magic, different from the corrupted darkness that had tainted Rafe’s.

  Her hand drifted to the pendant at her throat, its crystal warm against her palm. The techniques felt natural now—sensing the push and pull of magical currents, identifying the unique signatures of enchanted objects.

  The grimoire sat silent beside her, its pages still stubbornly encrypted despite her growing understanding of its mathematical patterns. At least she’d learned to suppress its reaction to her touch—no more telling marks appearing on her skin.

  A floorboard creaked down the hall. Rafe’s footsteps, though they’d barely spoken since she’d broken Marina’s spell. The distance between them ached, but his deception still stung.

  Vesper traced her finger down the list of potential trials, each one seeming less plausible than the last. Ash’s neat handwriting detailed historical precedents—magical duels, shapeshifting challenges, tests of will against illusions. But Marina’s interference had changed everything.

  Heavy footsteps approached her door. Vesper’s shoulders tensed, her hand stilling on the parchment. She kept her eyes fixed on the notes, though the words blurred together. The floorboards creaked as Rafe paused in the doorway.