CASPIAN POV
"What exactly are you, Aria Nightshade?"
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. The girl in my arms stiffens like I've struck her, those impossible violet eyes going wide with something that looks like pure terror.
Then she rips herself free and runs.
I watch her disappear down the hallway, my hands still tingling where I touched her arms. Her eyes were definitely purple—a color that doesn't exist in normal shifter genetics. And they were glowing faintly, like she'd just used magic.
But she's supposed to be a Null. Powerless.
"Caspian!" My father's voice cracks like a whip from behind me. "Stop standing in hallways like a fool. We have breakfast."
I turn to face Lord Silas Everhart, and my stomach drops.
He looks worse than yesterday. His skin has a grayish tint, like old paper. His hands shake when he gestures for me to follow. Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes, and he moves like every step hurts.
My father is dying, and nobody will tell me why.
"Yes, sir," I say quietly, following him to the private dining room reserved for Council members' families.
The table is covered with expensive food I don't want to eat. My father sits at the head, watching me with those cold steel-gray eyes that used to terrify me when I was little. They still do, if I'm honest.
"I heard you were seen talking to that scholarship girl," Father says, cutting into his steak with precise movements. "The Nightshade nobody."
"I ran into her accidentally."
"Nothing is accidental, Caspian." He doesn't look up from his plate. "Every action you take reflects on this family. Associating with trash makes you smell like trash."
I clench my fork until my knuckles turn white. "She's a student here. Same as everyone else."
"She is NOT the same." Father's voice turns sharp as broken glass. "She has no family, no power, no value. She exists here because of some bureaucratic charity nonsense. You are the heir to the Everhart legacy. You will be on the Council someday. You cannot afford to be seen with people beneath your station."
"What if I don't want to be on the Council?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
Father's fork clatters against his plate. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
"What did you say?"
My heart pounds, but I force myself to meet his eyes. "I said—"
"I heard what you said." Father stands slowly, and even sick and dying, he's terrifying. "Let me make something very clear, Caspian. Every choice I have made, every sacrifice, every dark thing I've done—it was all for you. To build you a future. To make you powerful. You WILL join the Council. You WILL lead this family. And you will do it perfectly, or everything I've suffered will be for nothing."
He's breathing hard now, one hand pressed to his chest like his heart hurts.
"Father, are you—"
"I'm FINE." He straightens, forcing himself to look strong even though I can see him trembling. "Finish your breakfast. You have Advanced Spellwork in twenty minutes. Professor Vance expects perfection from you. Don't disappoint me again."
He walks out without another word, leaving me alone with a plate of food that tastes like ash.
I want to scream. I want to throw something. I want to be literally anywhere else.
But Everharts don't scream or throw things or show weakness. We're perfect, always. No matter what it costs us.
I arrive at Advanced Spellwork with two minutes to spare. The classroom is already full of students—mostly Purebloods like me, with a handful of Half-bloods trying to prove themselves worthy.
And in the very back corner, almost invisible, sits Aria Nightshade.
She's staring at her desk, silver-blonde hair pulled back tight, wearing that patched scholarship uniform that announces her poverty to everyone. She looks small and scared and completely out of place.
For half a second, I remember those violet eyes, the way they glowed with barely contained power.
Then I remember my father's words. Associating with trash makes you smell like trash.
I take my seat at the front of the class, surrounded by people who matter. People with power and futures and families who aren't dying of mysterious curses.
Professor Vance starts the lesson—advanced transmutation spells that most students struggle with. I perform them perfectly on the first try, like always. People expect perfection from me. So I give it to them, even though I'm exhausted and scared and so, so tired of pretending everything is fine.
"Miss Nightshade," Professor Vance calls out suddenly. "Please demonstrate the transmutation spell."
I glance back and see Aria stand on shaking legs. She walks to the front of the class, and I notice how carefully she moves, like she's trying not to be seen even while everyone's staring at her.
She raises her hand and performs the spell. It works, but barely—weak and flickering, like a candle in the wind.
The class snickers. Someone whispers "Null" loud enough for everyone to hear.
Professor Vance sighs. "Adequate, I suppose. Mr. Everhart, please show Miss Nightshade how it's properly done."
I stand up, and something in my chest twists uncomfortably. I remember the terror in her eyes this morning when I asked what she was. I remember how she ran like I was going to kill her.
I should just do the spell and sit down.
But my father's voice is in my head. Never show weakness, especially to inferiors. You must always be superior.
So I raise my hand and channel my Celestial magic—the rare, powerful gift that makes me special. Light explodes from my palm, bright and beautiful and controlled. I transmute a rock into a perfect crystal rose in seconds, something that should take ten minutes.
The class gasps and applauds. Professor Vance beams with pride.
I look at Aria. Her face is completely blank, but her hands are clenched into fists so tight her knuckles are white. Those violet eyes meet mine for just a second, and I see something that makes my stomach twist with guilt.
Hate. Pure, burning hate.
"As you can see, Miss Nightshade," I hear myself say, "this is how someone with actual talent performs magic. Perhaps you should pay more attention instead of wasting everyone's time."
The class laughs. Aria's face goes red, but she doesn't cry. She just nods once and walks back to her seat with her head held high, even though I just humiliated her in front of everyone.
I sit down feeling hollow and cruel and exactly like my father.
The rest of class passes in a blur. When the bell rings, I grab my bag and head for the door, desperate to escape the weight of everyone's expectations.
That's when I see it—a folded piece of paper on my desk that wasn't there before. My name is written on the outside in handwriting I don't recognize.
I open it. Five words in black ink:
Your father is the killer.
My blood turns to ice. I spin around, looking for who could have left this, but the classroom is empty except for Aria Nightshade gathering her books in the back corner.
She glances up and our eyes meet across the room.
Then she smiles—small and knowing and terrifying.
And I realize that the scared little scholarship girl I just humiliated knows something about my father that could destroy everything.