The carriage stopped before the bck gates.

  I stared at them, unable to move—wrought metal and sharp spikes. The symbol of the Shadow Cn, a dragon with spread wings, regarded me with empty eyes.

  *Welcome to your new life, Anya.*

  The driver, a silent middle-aged man, got out and opened my door. I grabbed my bag—the only one I had, containing everything I had left.

  The gates swung open silently. Magic. I felt it—cold, slick, alien. Shadows swirled in the air, filled with a hungry intuition.

  No, I wasn’t imagining it; they were alive. Adrian’s magic permeated every stone of this pce.

  I walked inside.

  Chernov Manor was grim and Gothic—bck stone, high towers, narrow windows. Even in daylight, a semi-darkness reigned here. The trees surrounding the estate were bare, twisted like skeletons.

  I shivered. Was it the cold, or just fear?

  "Welcome to the Obsidian Pace," a female voice spoke.

  I turned to see a woman in her fifties standing before me, her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a stark bck dress, and her sharp grey eyes appraised me.

  "I am Martha, the housekeeper," she said, looking me up and down. "You are the Prince’s new secretary?"

  I nodded. "Anya Belskaya."

  "Follow me."

  She turned and walked toward the main entrance, and I hurried after her.

  Inside, the atmosphere was even gloomier. High ceilings, dark wood. Portraits of Chernov ancestors looked down from the walls, all with the same violet eyes. Shadow Magic.

  The air smelled of old wood, beeswax candles, and something else—something cold and unseen. Shadow magic seeping through every stone.

  I followed Martha down the corridor, my footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Somewhere deep within the manor, I could hear a quiet whisper—shadows moving in the corners, living their own lives.

  The Sky Citadel had been light, airy, full of sun and wind. The Obsidian Pace was its opposite: darkness, cold, silence.

  I looked at the portraits—men and women in bck robes, all with that same cold, detached, arrogant expression. They looked down on me, assessing and finding me unworthy.

  A Null in the House of Shadows. How dared I?

  "The estate comprises three wings," Martha said without turning. "Eastern is the Prince’s personal quarters. Western contains guest rooms and your bedroom. Central holds the offices, library, and meeting hall."

  I listened with half an ear, bile rising in my throat. Nausea. Again.

  *No. Not now.*

  I clenched my teeth and swallowed. *Hold on. Just a little longer.*

  "Are you listening?" Martha stopped and turned to me.

  "Yes," I forced a smile. "Sorry. Just... tired."

  Her gaze sharpened. "Rough night yesterday?"

  My breath hitched. Did she know? No, impossible. Adrian wouldn’t tell.

  "Long journey," I lied.

  Martha was silent for a few seconds before nodding.

  "Your room is on the third floor, Western Wing. Breakfast is at seven. The workday starts at eight. The Prince does not tolerate tardiness."

  "Understood."

  "Come. I will show you to your bedroom."

  We climbed a wide staircase. My legs ached; I hadn’t slept all night. After meeting Adrian, he had taken me to a cheap hotel, but I didn’t have money even for that. He paid.

  I hated it—hated being a burden, hated depending on him. But I had no choice.

  Martha opened a door at the end of the corridor. "Your room."

  I entered. It was simple: a wardrobe, a desk by the window, a carpet on the floor.

  "Bathroom through that door," Martha said, nodding to the left. "If you need anything, call the servants. The Communication Sphere is on the desk."

  I looked at the desk where a small bck orb sat—a Sphere, a magical communication device. I had seen ones like it at Demian’s.

  *Demian.*

  Pain stabbed my chest, and I turned away. "Thank you."

  "Rest. Dinner is at eight. The Prince expects you in the dining room."

  Martha left, closing the door behind her.

  I was alone.

  The silence pressed down on me. I sank onto the bed and buried my face in my hands.

  What had I done? What the hell had I done?

  I had run from one man only to work for another—a stranger whose magic scared me to the bone. And inside me grew a child. Demian’s child.

  I pced a hand on my stomach. Nothing was visible yet—two months was too little—but I knew. I felt it.

  I couldn’t tell Adrian. He’d throw me out just like Demian. I had to hide it, at least until I found another pce.

  But where could I go? I had no one.

  Tears fell freely, unchecked in the privacy of the room. I cried for a long time, until finally, exhaustion took me.

  ***

  A knock on the door woke me.

  I jumped up, disoriented. Where was I? What...

  Ah, yes. Chernov Manor.

  "Come in," I croaked.

  The door opened to reveal a young girl of about twenty, a maid in a bck dress and white apron.

  "Miss Belskaya, dinner is in half an hour," she curtsied. "The Prince is waiting for you in the dining room."

  "Thank you."

  The girl left, and I looked out the window. It was dark; I had slept all day.

  I quickly washed and changed into my only decent dress—dark grey and modest. I brushed my hair and looked at myself in the mirror. Pale skin, shadows under my eyes, lips pressed in a thin line.

  I looked like a ghost.

  *Fine. Adrian didn’t hire me for my beauty.*

  I left the room and went downstairs, where Martha was waiting in the hall. "Dining room this way," she said, leading me down a corridor.

  We entered a rge hall with a long table of bck wood, candles flickering in candebras, and portraits lining the walls.

  And Adrian.

  He sat at the head of the table in a bck suit and white shirt, his hair slicked back. His violet eyes watched me.

  My hand trembled on the doorknob.

  "Sit," his voice was cold.

  I walked to the table and sat opposite him, keeping a safe distance. Martha poured wine into our gsses and left. We were alone.

  The silence in the dining room thickened, pressing on my shoulders like a heavy sb.

  "Did you rest?" Adrian asked, not looking up from his pte.

  "Yes."

  "Good. You start work tomorrow."

  "What exactly will I be doing?"

  He finally looked at me. "Documents. Correspondence. Scheduling meetings. Standard secretarial duties."

  "Understood."

  "Do you know how to work with magical artifacts?"

  I shook my head. "No. I... I’m a Null. I have no gift."

  His eyes narrowed. "Last night you used magic."

  My heart beat faster. "It was... an accidental discharge. Stress. I don’t control it."

  "Meaning you’re not a Null," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You have a gift. Weak, but it’s there."

  I stayed silent. What could I say? I didn’t understand what had happened yesterday myself.

  "Do you know how to activate a Sphere?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Seal documents with magic?"

  "No."

  "Work with protection artifacts?"

  "No."

  Adrian chuckled coldly. "Excellent. That means you won’t break anything important."

  I didn’t understand. "But... then why did you hire me? I don’t know how to do anything."

  He watched me for a long time, assessing.

  "You don’t need to know anything," he said finally, a strange honesty ringing in his voice. "You will sit in my office and shuffle papers for show so the servants don’t ask questions. The real reason is your aura. When you are near, it is easier for me to breathe."

  I stared at him. "What?"

  "When you are near, the pain goes away," his voice grew quieter. "A magical sickness. It devours me from the inside. But your magic... it eases it. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why. But it works."

  I held my breath. "You... you’re using me as medicine?"

  "Yes," he replied without hesitation. "You need a job. I need relief. It’s a deal. Nothing personal. Sit nearby, work for appearances, and I will give you a roof over your head, food, and protection."

  Silence stretched between us.

  I looked at him, trying to parse my feelings. Anger? Resentment? Relief?

  He was honest. He didn’t pretend he needed me as a secretary. He said it directly: *you are a tool.*

  But wasn’t that better than lies?

  "I agree," I said quietly.

  Adrian nodded. "Good. I will teach you the basics—how to activate a Sphere, how to seal a document—so you can at least feign work. But the main thing is that you will be nearby."

  "Why?"

  "Because you work for me. And my people must be competent."

  *His people.* I was his person now.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

  He nodded and returned to his food.

  I looked at my pte—meat, vegetables, bread. The mere sight of food made me shiver.

  *No. Not now.*

  I picked up my fork and forced myself to take a bite of meat. I chewed and swallowed. Nausea rolled in a wave.

  I clenched my teeth. *Hold it. Don’t show it.*

  "You’re not eating," Adrian noticed.

  "Not very hungry."

  "You haven’t eaten all day."

  "I... am tired."

  He looked at me for a long time—too long. His gaze pierced right through me. "You’re hiding something."

  Breath caught in my throat. "No."

  "Don’t lie to me, Anya." His voice was quiet, dangerous.

  I met his gaze. "I’m not lying. I’m just tired. Yesterday was... a hard night."

  He remained silent, then nodded. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."

  I stood up, grateful for the chance to escape. "Good night."

  I left the dining room and almost ran up to my room. Barely closing the door, I threw up right in the bathroom. I sat on the floor, hugging the toilet, and cried.

  How long could I hide this?

  ***

  Morning began with nausea.

  I woke at six and immediately ran to the bathroom. Vomiting. Again.

  Pregnancy. My secret, my ticking time bomb.

  I washed with cold water and looked at myself in the mirror—pale, exhausted.

  *Need to hold on. At least today.*

  I dressed in a simple grey dress and went down to breakfast. Martha was already sitting in the dining room, drinking tea and reading a document.

  "Good morning, Miss Belskaya," she nodded. "Sit. The Prince is breakfasting in his study."

  I sat and poured myself tea, but the smell of food hit my nose and I felt faint.

  *No. Hold on.*

  I took a bite of bread, chewed, and swallowed.

  Martha watched me. "You look unwell."

  "Didn’t sleep well."

  Martha was silent, then nodded. "The Prince expects you in the library at eight. First lesson."

  First lesson. Magic.

  I finished the bread, drank the tea, and went to the library.

  ***

  The library was enormous, with shelves reaching to the ceiling holding thousands of books, filling the room with the smell of old paper and leather.

  Adrian stood by the window in a bck shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair slightly disheveled.

  He turned when I entered. "You came," he stated. "Good. Let’s begin."

  I walked closer, my heart beating faster. "What do I have to do?"

  "Summon your magic," he said, nodding at a small clear crystal on the table. "Light it up."

  "How?"

  "Like in the alley. Feel the magic. Let it flow."

  I walked to the table, reached for the crystal, and closed my eyes. I focused.

  Nothing. Emptiness.

  I opened my eyes. "It’s not working."

  "Try again."

  I tried. And again. And again.

  Nothing.

  Frustration mounted, and I clenched my fists. "I can’t! I don’t know how!"

  Adrian walked closer and stood behind me.

  "You’re trying too hard," he said, his hands settling on my shoulders—warm, solid. "Magic isn’t effort. It’s letting go. You don’t push it. You allow it to flow."

  I felt his breath on my neck, warm and close. My heart beat faster.

  "Close your eyes," he commanded. "Breathe. Don’t think. Just feel."

  I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, deeply.

  His hands slid down my arms, fingers intercing with mine.

  "Feel it?" he whispered. "Warmth. Somewhere deep. Like a spark."

  I... I felt it. Faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Warmth in my chest, like an ember that hadn’t gone out.

  "Yes," I exhaled.

  "Now let it grow. Don’t push. Just allow."

  I focused on that ember, imagining it igniting, the fme growing, light filling me.

  And it happened.

  Warmth fred, flowing through my veins, spilling through my body.

  I opened my eyes. The crystal glowed faintly with a white light and golden sparks.

  "I... I did it," I whispered.

  Adrian smiled. For the first time, a real smile—not cold, not predatory.

  "Yes," he said. "You did."

  The light died. I looked at my hands. Ordinary, pale, no light. But I knew. I felt it.

  I am not a Null.

  ***

  "...Or ill?"

  I met her gaze. "Just tired."

  She didn’t answer, but her eyes said, *I don’t believe you.*

  I finished my tea and stood up. "I have to go. Where is the Prince’s study?"

  "Second floor, Central wing. Last door on the right."

  "Thank you."

  I left the dining room.

  The house was huge, a byrinth of dark wood and stone. I went up to the second floor but seemed to take a wrong turn. The corridor was long and empty, candles burning dimly and barely dispelling the gloom.

  And the silence was strange. Alive.

  I took a step. The floor creaked. And the shadows moved—not from the candlelight, but on their own.

  They detached from the walls—dark, fluid silhouettes. Faceless. Eyeless. But I felt their gaze. Cold ran down my spine.

  "Who’s there?" I whispered.

  The shadows didn’t answer. They slid closer, surrounding me. I pressed my back against the wall, my heart hammering in my throat.

  Shadow Magic. The manor’s security. They sensed an intruder.

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow, the cold, the pain. But nothing happened.

  Instead, I felt a touch—light as a breath of wind. A shadow touched my hand, then my cheek. It wasn’t hostile. It was... curious.

  They were studying me, tasting my aura, my light.

  *You are different,* rustled in my head. Not a voice, but a thought. Alien.

  I opened my eyes. The shadows froze around me, close, very close. But they didn’t attack. They were... bowing? Or acknowledging?

  "Anya?"

  Adrian’s voice tore through the silence.

  The shadows darted away, dissolving into corners. Adrian stood at the end of the corridor, looking at me.

  "Are you lost?" he asked.

  I exhaled, my legs trembling. "Yes. I... I was looking for your office."

  He walked closer, examining me carefully. "The shadows didn’t touch you."

  It wasn’t a question, but a statement with a hint of surprise.

  "They... they were just watching."

  Adrian nodded slowly. "Interesting. They usually don’t like strangers." He turned. "Come. The study is the other way."

  I followed him, feeling the shadows watching me go. Not hostile. But waiting.

  ***

  Adrian’s study was massive, filled with dark wood, high bookshelves, and a rge desk cluttered with documents. A wall-sized window overlooked the garden.

  Adrian stood by the window, his back to me.

  "You’re three minutes te," he said, not turning.

  My feet rooted to the floor. "I’m sorry."

  "Next time be on time."

  "Yes."

  He turned to me, his violet eyes cold.

  "Your workspace is there," he nodded at a small desk by the wall. "Documents for sorting in that pile. Letters for reply in this one. Communication Sphere on the desk. If you don’t know how to do something, ask."

  I nodded and went to my desk.

  The pile of documents was impressive. I picked up the first sheet and started reading: a contract for the supply of magical artifacts. Sum—five hundred thousand crystals.

  I blinked. Five hundred thousand. That was huge money.

  "Sort by date," Adrian said, not looking up from his papers. "Urgent ones separate."

  I started working. An hour passed unnoticed, then a second. I sorted, read, wrote down. The work was monotonous, but I was grateful for it; it distracted me from my thoughts.

  And then my insides tied into a tight knot. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  *No. Not here. Not in front of him.*

  I stood up and walked to the door.

  "Where are you going?" Adrian asked, eyes still on the documents.

  "To the restroom."

  "Right down the hall."

  I ran out of the study, found the restroom, and locked myself in.

  And threw up.

  I sat on the floor, hugging the toilet, and cried.

  How long could I hide this? A day? Two? A week?

  Adrian would notice. He always noticed. And then what? He’d kick me out? Like Demian?

  I washed with cold water and looked at myself in the mirror. Pale, exhausted, red eyes.

  *Need to hold on. At least today.*

  I returned to the study. Adrian looked at me. "Better?"

  "Yes."

  He nodded and returned to work, but I saw his gaze linger on me longer than necessary.

  He knows. Or suspects. Time will tell.

  ***

  The rest of the day passed in tension.

  I returned to Adrian’s study and continued working—sorting documents, answering letters, learning to activate the Communication Sphere.

  Adrian showed me how, pcing my hand on the bck orb and covering it with his palm. Cold burned my skin, and magic shed out in a wave, knocking the breath out of me.

  I flinched.

  "Don’t be afraid," his voice was low. "Just feel. Magic flows in the blood. Even Nulls have a drop of power. Find it."

  I closed my eyes and focused. Something stirred inside—weak, barely noticeable, like a smoldering ember.

  "Here," Adrian whispered. "Direct it into the Sphere."

  I tried. The ember fred, and the Sphere glowed with a dull white light.

  "Good," Adrian said, removing his hand. The light died.

  I opened my eyes. My head spun, fatigue crashing down all at once.

  "Is that... normal?" I asked.

  "For the first time? Yes. It gets easier with practice."

  I nodded and returned to my desk. But my thoughts tangled. Magic. I used magic. Again.

  Does that mean I’m not a Null? But Healers of the Raven Cn tested me hundreds of times, and all said the same thing: no gift. What changed?

  I pced a hand on my stomach. The baby. Maybe it’s because of him?

  No. That’s stupid. Pregnancy doesn’t give magic.

  Or does it?

  "You’re distracted again," Adrian noted.

  I jumped. "Sorry."

  "Go. Work day is over."

  I looked out the window. It was dark; I hadn’t noticed time flying by.

  "Thank you."

  I stood and headed for the door.

  "Anya."

  I stopped and turned around. Adrian was looking at me, his violet eyes glowing in the semi-darkness.

  "If you need help, ask. I’m not a Voronov. I don't abandon those under my protection."

  My throat tightened. "Thank you," I whispered.

  I left the study. The corridor was empty and quiet. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

  *If you need help—ask.*

  But I can’t. I can’t tell him about the baby. He’ll throw me out.

  Or not?

  He said, "I don't abandon those under my protection."

  But I’m pregnant by another man—by the heir of a hostile cn. That was too much. I couldn’t risk it.

  But I couldn't go to the four walls of my room, where the air seemed stale with my own fears. I needed to breathe.

  I turned not to the stairs, but to a tall gss door leading to the inner courtyard. I pushed the sash, and it yielded heavily with a disgruntled creak.

  Cold evening air hit my face, smelling of dampness and decay.

  The Chernov garden suited the castle itself. There was no riot of colors I was used to in the Sky Citadel—no golden lilies or azure tulips singing in the wind. Only bck roses.

  They grew everywhere—massive, with velvet, almost charcoal petals. The bushes were tall, taller than a man, and their thorns, long and sharp as needles, glinted in the light of a lone ntern.

  I walked slowly along the path paved with dark ste. The roses were beautiful, possessing a frightening, predatory beauty. They didn’t reach for the sun, which was scarce here; they seemed to drink the darkness condensing in the twilight. I reached for a bud but didn’t touch it; cold radiated from the flower.

  "Even the flowers here wear armor," I whispered.

  Wind swayed the branches, and shadows on the path danced a strange, broken dance. It seemed one bush moved on its own, reaching a branch-paw toward my dress.

  I pulled my hand back. This pce was alive in its own way. It watched. Assessed. Like its master.

  Somewhere far away a raven croaked, the sound sharp like the crack of breaking bone.

  I shivered, hugging my shoulders. Cold seeped under the thin fabric of my dress, but I was in no hurry to leave. This cold was more honest than the fake warmth I lived in before. Here, among thorns and shadows, I felt a strange calm.

  *We are alike,* I thought, looking at a bck bud ready to open. *We both grow in darkness. And both grow thorns to survive.*

  I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with icy air, and finally turned back to the house. I went to my room.

  ***

  Dinner was quiet.

  Adrian sat at the head of the table, and I sat opposite. Martha served food effectively and watched silently.

  I ate little; my stomach was still unsettled. But I forced myself.

  "How was the first day?" Adrian asked.

  "Okay."

  "Did you manage the documents?"

  "Yes. Sorted by date. Urgent ones set aside."

  He nodded. "Good. Tomorrow you start working with correspondence. I’ll show you how to reply to official letters."

  "Understood."

  Silence. I drank water in small sips, looked at my pte, and avoided his gaze.

  "You’re afraid of me," Adrian said suddenly.

  I looked up. "No."

  "You’re lying."

  I pressed my lips together. "I’m not afraid of you. I just... don’t know you."

  "And that scares you."

  I remained silent.

  He leaned back in his chair, looking at me for a long time.

  "I don’t intend to harm you, Anya. I need you. Alive. Healthy. Capable of working."

  "Why?" slipped out. "Why do you need me? You could have hired anyone. An experienced secretary. A mage. Someone competent. But you took me. A Null. Voronov’s ex-wife. Why?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Because you interest me."

  "Interest?"