"I do," I realize, surprising myself with how true it is. "I trust you. All of you. Even if you're terrible at sharing important information."
"In our defense," Finn says, "we were going to tell you everything tonight. You know, after the ball. Preferably over snacks and with less magical drama."
"Since when do our plans ever work out that smoothly?" Aspen asks dryly.
"Fair point. New plan: expect chaos, bring snacks."
"That's your plan for everything," Malrik points out.
"And has it ever failed?"
"Constantly."
"But entertainingly!"
As they bicker, I lean back against my cushions, letting their familiar voices wash over me. My shadows have settled into comfortable patterns: one draped across Finn's shoulders, another curled near Malrik's feet, the rest scattered among the twins like lazy cats.
Mouse, still in Finn's lap, catches my eye and lets out a quiet chirp that somehow manages to sound smug. It’s a sound that seems to say, “See? Trust isn’t so hard.” For a moment, I let myself wonder if Mouse understands more than he lets on—a tiny, furry reminder that letting others in might not be the worst thing.
"Yeah, yeah," I whisper. "You were right."
The necklace glows warmly, like a gentle laugh, as if it’s offering comfort in its own mysterious way. It feels almost alive, a steady presence grounding me in the midst of all the chaos. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if it’s telling me I’m not alone. And for the first time in a long time, I believe it. I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I don’t need anyone, that it’s safer to keep people at arm’s length. But tonight, with all their ridiculousness and chaos, they didn’t leave. They stayed, even when I pushed them away. Maybe... maybe they’re not like the others.
Even if my allies are ridiculous, shadow-seeing, snack-stealing idiots.
My idiots.
Chapter 43
Finn
I can't help but grin as I watch Kaia's shadows play with the snack wrappers. They're like mischievous kittens, if kittens were made of living darkness and had a concerning fondness for sugar. Bob—and I'm still pretty proud of that name—is currently trying to fashion some kind of wrapper crown. His antics are a small, welcome reminder of the lightness we all need right now, weaving a thread of camaraderie into the heavy air. The little showoff.
"So," I say, popping another cookie into my mouth, "now that we've had our dramatic revelation hour, who wants to place bets on what fresh chaos tomorrow brings? My money's on Darian sprouting horns. It would explain the hair."
Malrik gives me a look that's half exasperation, half amusement. It's a familiar expression. "Perhaps we should focus on more pressing matters. Like how to keep Kaia safe while we figure out what Darian and Thorne are planning."
"Ooh, good point. I vote we stuff her in a closet until graduation. A nice, cozy closet. With snacks."
Aspen rolls his eyes. "Be serious, Finn."
"I am being serious! Have you seen what happens when Kaia gets hangry? Way scarier than Darian."
I'm about to launch into my very well-thought-out closet protection plan when I notice something. Kaia hasn't made a snarky comment about my brilliant ideas in at least five minutes. Which is approximately four minutes and fifty-nine seconds longer than usual.
I glance over and—yep, there it is. Sometime in the last few minutes, exhaustion seems to have finally caught up with her. Kaia's curled up on her cushions, fast asleep, her arms loosely wrapped around one of the pillows. Her shadows have cocooned her in a way that feels both protective and tender, their soft, swirling movements a quiet testament to the trust she’s placed in us tonight.
"Uh, guys?" I whisper, nodding towards our sleeping friend. "I think we broke her."
The others follow my gaze, and I swear I see Malrik's expression soften. It's a good look on him. Less broody prince, more... well, still broody. But in a softer way.
"Should we wake her?" Torric asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
Aspen shakes his head. "Let her rest. After everything that's happened, she needs it."
I nod in agreement, carefully extracting myself from the snack circle. Mouse, who had been using my lap as a bed, gives me a disgruntled look before hopping over to curl up next to Kaia. His choice feels deliberate, like he’s declaring her part of the group’s inner circle—someone worth protecting and comforting, even in sleep.
"Well," I say quietly, stretching, "I guess that's our cue to leave. Unless we're having a slumber party. In which case, I call dibs on braiding Malrik's hair."
