She nodded, keeping her gaze locked on me. “Yes.”
Dexter’s shadow crept forward and curled around hers.
She let out a rushed breath of relief as his shadows touched hers.
“That’s it,” he praised her. “Breathe with us.”
I continued breathing with her, and Dexter’s chest was against her back as he followed my instructions on breathing.
His shadows slowly inched hers back into the mark.
“It feels good.” She kept her palm up as his shadow encircled her hand, wrapping around his mark in soothing strokes. “Dex...my shadow...it’s a part of you.”
“Yes, trouble,” he agreed with a soft smile on his lips. “Itisa part of me. And I’m a part of you.”
The raw realization that dawned on her shot through our bonds, and I saw Dexter’s smile widen.
She was accepting her shadow right now because she just made the connection that it wasn’t her mother’s shadow magic. It was Dexter’s.
“You don’t have to fear the shadow in your palm any more than you have to fear yourself or Dexter,” I told her, leaning in and kissing her lips softly.
“Thank you.” Tears spilled down her cheeks again, and she turned to thank Dexter, but she met his lips instead.
He pulled back with a big grin. “Thank you for realizing that I would never hurt you with my shadows again.”
“Shadow magic may have caused me trauma, but it was Penny’s shadows specifically. Not yours and not the one I wield,” she said aloud, and I felt how much she believed it through our bond.
This was the moment she needed to accept the shadow magic that she was now capable of wielding.
Starlight wouldn’t shine as brightly without darkness, and she was officially accepting that part of her and Dexter.
21
PANDORA
“Is it ever ethical to kill, and if so, under what conditions?” Respa asked, locking her hands behind her back as she paced the front of the classroom.
The sandstone walls absorbed the flickering light from the floating orbs overhead, casting long shadows across the desks. It smelled faintly of burnt parchment, but I was greedily inhaling Reed’s cotton candy scent as he sat next to me.
Demon Ethics was one class that managed to be both infuriating and necessary. Infuriating because some demons thought they were better than others because of their societal class or because of their demonic sub-type. They thought ethics were beneath them because of that. The truth was that none of us were any different. We were all demons, and we were all supernaturals. I didn’t understand the need for the divide, though I could see the divide was something that was present in all of our history. It saddened me, and I wanted to put in the work to change it.
Even demons should’ve been capable of ethics—but they had to have empathy first. Most lacked that.
The room was silent for a few heartbeats before the murmurs began, growing into a full-fledged debate on whether killing was ethical.
“You know it is. Killing is natural. Under the conditions of strength of the demon,” one noble said lazily, like the answer was obvious. “Those who cannot fend for themselves are useless to the greater cause. Power dictates survival. If you’re weak, you don’t deserve to live. If you’re strong, you should be able to kill as you see fit.”
My nails dug into my palms.
“That’s garbage,” Jenni snapped, turning in her seat to glare at him.
I followed suit. “Every soul has value. Power doesn’t determine worth.”
A few heads turned in our direction, interest piqued.
The noble scoffed. “You’re a fucking noble soul eater. I don’t see why you’re pandering to the low-class idiots.”
“Pandering?” I let out a growl, feeling my magic spread through me. “I may be privileged to be a noble and a soul eater, but you know what? I’m using that privilege to speak up for the demonsyoucall low-class. I’ve met more so-called low-class demons who are way better than almost all the nobles I’ve met at this academy. Most of my mates are classified as low-class, and they are way stronger than any of you are. So, by your logic,youshould be the ones to fall prey totheirpower.”
