The mobile came to a halt before the blackened iron gates.

  I stared at them, rooted to my seat. Jagged metal. Sharp spikes. The symbol of the Chernov Clan—a dragon with its wings spread wide—stared back at me with hollow, sightless eyes.

  Welcome to your new life, Anya.

  The driver—a silent, middle-aged man—stepped out and opened my door. I gripped my bag. My only bag. Everything I had left in this world.

  The gates swung open soundlessly. Magic. I could feel it—cold, slick, and alien. Shadows swirled in the heavy air, infused with a ravenous energy.

  It wasn't my imagination. They were alive. Adrian’s magic permeated every stone of this place.

  I stepped inside.

  The Chernov estate was... grim. Gothic. Built from dark stone, it featured towering spires and narrow, slit-like windows. Even in the middle of the day, a persistent gloom reigned here. The trees surrounding the manor were bare and twisted, like reaching skeletons.

  I shivered. Cold. Or was it just fear?

  “Welcome to the Obsidian Palace,” a woman’s voice called out.

  I turned around.

  Standing before me was a woman in her fifties. Her silver hair was pulled into a severe, tight bun. She wore a high-collared black dress, and her grey eyes held a sharp, penetrating gaze.

  “I am Marta Ivanovna, the housekeeper of this estate.” She appraised me from head to toe. “Are you the Prince’s new secretary?”

  I nodded.

  “Anya Belskaya.”

  “Follow me.”

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

  Inside, it was even darker. High ceilings. Deep-toned wood. Portraits of Chernov ancestors lined the walls—all with the same piercing violet eyes. Shadow magic.

  The air smelled of aged wood, candle wax, and something else. Something cold. Unseen. The very essence of the Shadows that lived within the foundations.

  As I walked down the corridor, the sound of my footsteps echoed back at me. The stone walls were icy to the touch. Deep within the manor, I heard a faint whispering—shadows shifting in the corners, leading a life of their own.

  The Celestial Citadel had been bright. Airy. Flooded with sunlight and wind. The Obsidian Palace was its antithesis. Darkness. Cold. Silence.

  I looked at the portraits. Men and women in black finery. All with matching violet eyes. All with the same expression—cold, detached, arrogant. They looked down on me, evaluating my worth. And find me wanting.

  A Null in the House of Shadows. How did I even dare?

  “The manor consists of three wings,” Marta said, not looking back. “The East Wing contains the Prince’s private chambers. The West Wing houses the guest rooms and your bedroom. The Central Wing is for work—offices, the library, and the council hall.”

  I barely listened. A lump had formed in my throat. Nausea. Again.

  *No. Not now.*

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

  “Are you listening?” Marta stopped and turned to face me.

  “Yes,” I forced a smile. “Forgive me. I’m just... exhausted.”

  Her gaze sharpened.

  “Was last night a difficult one?”

  My breath hitched. Does she know? No. She couldn't. How...

  “A long journey,” I lied.

  Marta remained silent for several seconds. Then she nodded.

  “Your room is on the third floor. West Wing. Breakfast is at seven. The workday begins at eight. The Prince does not tolerate tardiness.”

  “Understood.”

  “Come. I will show you your bedroom.”

  We climbed a wide staircase. My legs throbbed. I hadn't slept all night.

  I hated this. Hated being a burden. Hated depending on another man.

  But I had no choice.

  Marta opened a door at the end of the hallway.

  “Your room.”

  I stepped inside. A wardrobe. A desk by the window. A rug on the floor.

  “The bathroom is through that door,” Marta pointed to the left. “If you need anything, call for the servants. The communication sphere is on the desk.”

  I looked at the desk. A small black ball sat there—a Sphere. A magical communication device. I had seen them in Demyan’s study.

  Demyan.

  A sharp pain flared in my chest. I looked away.

  “Thank you.”

  “Rest. Dinner is at eight. The Prince will expect you in the dining room.”

  Marta headed for the door but paused on the threshold.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” she turned back. “The Prince has ordered a wardrobe to be prepared for you. Dresses, undergarments, shoes—all in the wardrobe. If anything doesn't fit, let me know. The Clan’s tailor will adjust it.”

  I blinked, stunned by the unexpected care.

  “Thank you, Marta.”

  Marta left, closing the door behind her.

  I was alone.

  The silence was oppressive. I sank onto the bed and buried my face in my hands.

  What had I done? What on earth had I done?

  I had fled one man only to work for another. A man I didn't know. A man whose magic made me tremble with fear.

  And inside me, a child was growing. Demyan’s child.

  I placed a hand on my stomach. It was still flat. Two months—too early for anything to show. But I knew. I could feel it.

  I couldn't tell Adrian. He’d throw me out. Just like Demyan.

  I had to hide it. At least until I could find somewhere else.

  But where would I go? I had no one.

  Tears fell freely now. I didn't hold them back. There was no one here to see.

  I cried for a long time. Until sleep finally took me.

  ***

  A knock at the door woke me.

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

  Ah, yes. The Chernov estate.

  “Come in,” I called out, my voice raspy.

  The door opened, and a young girl in her twenties entered. A maid. Black dress, white apron.

  “Miss Belskaya, dinner is in half an hour,” she said with a quick curtsey. “The Prince is waiting for you in the dining room.”

  “Thank you.”

  The girl left.

  I looked out the window. It was dark. I had slept the entire day away.

  I washed my face quickly and changed into the only decent dress I had—a modest dark grey thing. I brushed my hair and looked in the mirror.

  I was pale. Deep shadows haunted my eyes. My lips were a thin, tight line.

  I looked like a ghost.

  *Whatever. Adrian didn't hire me for my looks.*

  I left the room and headed downstairs. Marta was waiting in the hall.

  “The dining room is this way,” she led me down the corridor.

  We entered a grand hall. A long table of black-grained wood. Candles flickering in heavy candelabras. Portraits watched from every wall.

  And Adrian was there.

  He sat at the head of the table. A black suit. A crisp white shirt. His hair swept back. Those violet eyes fixed on me.

  My hand trembled on the door handle.

  “Sit,” his voice was cool.

  I walked to the table and sat opposite him. Far enough away to feel a semblance of safety.

  Marta poured wine into the glasses and vanished.

  We were alone.

  The silence in the dining room thickened, weighing on my shoulders like a slab of stone.

  “Did you rest?” Adrian asked, not looking up from his plate.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You begin work tomorrow.”

  “What exactly will I be doing?”

  He finally looked at me.

  “Documents. Correspondence. Organizing meetings. Standard secretarial duties.”

  “I see.”

  “Can you work with magical artifacts?”

  I shook my head.

  “No. I... I am a Null. I have no gift.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You used magic last night.”

  My heart picked up speed.

  “That was... an accidental surge. Stress. I don't control it.”

  “Then you are not a Null,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You have a gift. Weak, perhaps. But it’s there.”

  I remained silent. What could I say? I didn't understand what happened last night either.

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

  “No.”

  “Seal documents with magic?”

  “No.”

  “Work with protective artifacts?”

  “No.”

  Adrian smirked. A cold, sharp expression.

  “Excellent. That means you won't break anything important.”

  I didn't understand.

  “But... why hire me then? I have no skills.”

  He watched me for a long time, his gaze evaluating.

  “You don't need skills,” he said at last, and for a moment, his voice held a strange honesty. “You will sit in my office, shuffling papers for appearance’s sake so the staff doesn'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 recedes,” his voice dropped lower. “A magical disease. It consumes me from within. But your magic... it eases it. I don't know how. I don't know why. But it works.”

  I stopped breathing.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You... you're using me as medicine?”

  “Yes.” He didn't bother to lie. “You need a job. I need relief. It’s a deal. Nothing personal. Sit near me. Work for show. And I will give you a roof over your head, food, and protection.”

  Silence.

  I watched him, trying to parse my own feelings.

  Anger? Resentment? Relief?

  He was being honest. He wasn't pretending he needed me as a secretary. He told me straight: you are a tool.

  But wasn't that better than a lie?

  "I accept," I said softly.

  Adrian nodded.

  “Good. I will teach you the basics. How to activate a Sphere. How to seal a document. So you can at least look the part. But the main thing is—you will be nearby.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you work for me now. And my people must be competent.”

  *His people.* I was his now.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and returned to his meal.

  I looked at my plate. Meat. Vegetables. Bread. The mere sight of it made me sick.

  *No. Not now.*

  I picked up a fork and forced myself to take a bite of meat. Chewed. Swallowed.

  Nausea hit me in a wave.

  I clenched my teeth. *Hold on. Don't show it.*

  “You're not eating,” Adrian noted.

  “I'm not very hungry.”

  “You haven't eaten all day.”

  “I'm... tired.”

  He watched me. A long, penetrating look. His gaze felt as if it were piercing 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 eyes.

  “I'm not lying. I'm just tired. Last night was... difficult.”

  He was silent, then finally nodded.

  “Go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  I stood up, desperate for the chance to escape.

  “Goodnight.”

  I left the dining room and nearly ran up to my room. No sooner had I closed the door than I was sick in the bathroom.

  I sat on the floor, clutching the side of the tub, and cried.

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

  Adrian would notice. He always noticed.

  And then... then what? Would he throw me out? Like Demyan?

  I washed my face with cold water and looked in the mirror. Pale. Exhausted. My eyes were rimmed with red.

  *Stay strong. At least for today.*

  ***

  The morning began with nausea.

  I woke at six and bolted for the bathroom. Nausea. Again.

  Pregnancy. My secret. My ticking time bomb.

  I splashed my face with cold water and looked in the mirror. Pale. Exhausted.

  *Stay strong. At least for today.*

  I dressed in a simple grey gown and went down for breakfast.

  Marta was already in the dining room, sipping tea and reading a document.

  “Good morning, Miss Belskaya,” she nodded. “Sit. The Prince is having breakfast in his study.”

  I sat and poured myself some tea. The smell of food hit me. I felt faint.

  *No. Hold it together.*

  I bit into a piece of bread. Chewed. Swallowed.

  Marta watched me.

  “You look unwell.”

  “I didn't sleep well.”

  Marta was silent for a moment, then nodded.

  “The Prince expects you in the library at eight. Your first lesson.”

  *The first lesson. Magic.*

  I finished my bread, drank my tea, and headed for the library.

  ***

  The library was vast. Shelves reached all the way to the ceiling. Thousands of books. The scent of old paper and leather hung in the air.

  Adrian stood by the window. A black shirt. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was slightly mussed.

  He turned as I entered.

  “You came,” he stated. “Good. Let’s begin.”

  I stepped closer, my heart racing.

  “What must I do?”

  “Summon your magic.” He nodded toward the table, where a small, transparent crystal lay. “Light it up.”

  “How?”

  “Like you did in the alley. Feel the magic. Let it flow.”

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

  I focused.

  Nothing. Emptiness.

  I opened my eyes.

  “It’s not working.”

  “Try again.”

  I tried once, twice, and again.

  Nothing.

  Frustration mounted. I clenched my fists.

  “I can't! I don't know how!”

  Adrian stepped closer. He stood right behind me.

  “You're trying too hard,” he said. His hands settled on my shoulders. Warm. Firm. “Magic isn't an effort. It’s a release. You don't push it. You let it flow.”

  I felt his breath on my neck. Warm. Close. My heart hammered against my ribs.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded. “Breathe. Don't think. Just feel.”

  I closed my eyes. I breathed. Slowly. Deeply.

  His hands slid down my arms, his fingers interlacing with mine.

  “Do you feel it?” he whispered. “A warmth. Somewhere deep inside. Like a spark.”

  I... I felt it. Faintly. Almost imperceptibly. But it was there. A warmth in my chest. Like an ember that hadn't quite gone out.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Now let it grow. Don't push. Just allow it.”

  I focused on that ember. I imagined it blooming. The flame growing. Light filling me.

  And then it happened.

  The warmth flared. It surged through my veins. It flooded my body.

  I opened my eyes.

  The crystal was glowing with a soft, white light, shot through with gold 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 faded. I looked at my hands. Ordinary. Pale. No light.

  But I knew. I felt it.

  I was not a Null.

  ***

  “It’s time for you to get to work!”

  I met her gaze.

  “Today? Now?”

  Marta was watching me with a highly suspicious look, as if she wanted to turn me inside out and examine my very soul...

  I finished my tea and stood up.

  “I should go. Where is the Prince’s study?”

  “Second floor. Central wing. The last door on the right.”

  “Thank you.”

  I left the dining room.

  The house was immense. A labyrinth of dark wood and stone. I went up to the second floor, but I must have taken a wrong turn.

  The corridor was long and empty. The candles here burned dimly, barely holding back the gloom.

  And the silence. Strange. Alive.

  "Who's there?" I whispered.

  The shadows didn't answer. They glided closer, surrounding me.

  I pressed my back against the wall, my heart hammering in my throat.

  Shadow magic. The manor’s guard. They could sense an intruder.

  I closed my eyes, waiting for a blow. Cold. Pain.

  But nothing happened.

  Instead, I felt... a touch. Light as a breath of wind. A shadow brushed my hand, then my cheek.

  It wasn't hostile. It was... curious.

  They were studying me. Tasting my aura. My light.

  *You are different,* a whisper echoed in my mind. Not a voice. A thought. Not my own.

  I opened my eyes.

  The shadows were frozen around me. Close. Very close. But they weren't attacking. Were they... bowing?

  Or acknowledging me?

  "Anya?"

  Adrian’s voice shattered the silence.

  The shadows darted away, dissolving into the corners.

  Adrian stood at the end of the corridor, watching me.

  "Are you lost?" he asked.

  I let out a breath. My legs were trembling.

  "Yes. I... I was looking for your study."

  He stepped closer, examining me carefully.

  "The shadows didn't touch you."

  It wasn't a question. It was a statement, tinged with surprise.

  "They... they were just watching."

  Adrian nodded slowly.

  "Interesting. They usually don't care for strangers."

  He turned away.

  "Come. The study is in the other direction."

  I followed him, feeling the shadows’ gaze on my back.

  Not hostile. Waiting.

  Adrian led me down the hall to his study.

  Adrian’s study was massive. Dark wood. High bookshelves. A large desk piled with documents. A wall-to-wall window overlooked the garden.

  “Your workspace is there,” he nodded toward a small desk against the wall. “Documents to be sorted are in that stack. Letters to be answered are in this one. The communication sphere is on the desk. If you don't know how to do something—ask.”

  I nodded and went to my desk.

  The stack of documents was formidable. I took the first page and began to read.

  A contract for the supply of magical artifacts. The sum—five hundred thousand crystals.

  I blinked. Five hundred thousand. That was... an enormous amount of money.

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

  I began to work.

  An hour passed unnoticed. Then another. I sorted, read, and took notes. The work was monotonous, but I was grateful for it. It distracted me from my thoughts.

  And then my insides twisted into a tight knot.

  I clamped a hand over my mouth.

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

  I stood up and headed for the door.

  "Where are you going?" Adrian asked, his eyes never leaving his work.

  "To the powder room."

  "Right down the hall."

  I bolted from the office, found the bathroom, and locked myself inside.

  And then I was sick.

  I sat on the floor, clutching the side of the tub, and cried.

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

  Adrian would notice. He always noticed.

  And then... then what? Would he throw me out? Like Demyan?

  I washed my face with cold water and looked in the mirror. Pale. Exhausted. My eyes were rimmed with red.

  *Stay strong. At least for today.*

  I returned to the study. Adrian was watching me.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  He nodded and went back to work.

  But I saw how his gaze lingered on me. Longer than it should have.

  He knows. Or he suspects.

  Time would tell.

  ***

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of tension.

  I returned to Adrian’s office and continued my work. Sorting documents, answering letters, learning to activate the communication sphere.

  Adrian showed me how it was done. He placed my hand on the black ball and covered it with his palm.

  The cold scorched my skin. Magic lashed out in a wave, stealing my breath.

  I flinched.

  "Don't be afraid," his voice was quiet. "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 perceptible. Like a smoldering ember.

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

  I tried. The ember flared. The Sphere glowed with a dull white light.

  "Good," Adrian said, pulling his hand away.

  The light died.

  I opened my eyes. My head was spinning. Exhaustion hit me all at once.

  "Is this... normal?" I asked.

  "For a second time—yes. It will get easier with practice."

  I nodded and returned to my desk.

  But my thoughts were scattered. Magic. I had used magic. Again.

  So I wasn't a Null?

  But the healers of the Voronov clan had tested me hundreds of times. Everyone said the same thing: no gift.

  What had changed?

  I placed a hand on my stomach.

  The baby. Could it be because of him?

  No. That’s absurd. Pregnancy doesn't grant magic.

  Or does it?

  "You're distracted again," Adrian noted.

  I started.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Go. The workday is over."

  I looked out the window. It was dark. I hadn't noticed the time passing.

  "Thank you."

  I stood up and headed for the door.

  "Anya."

  I stopped and turned back.

  Adrian was watching me. His violet eyes glowed in the dim light.

  "If you need help—tell me. I am not a Voronov. I don't abandon those under my protection."

  My throat tightened.

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  I left the office.

  The corridor was empty. Silent. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

  *If you need help—tell me.*

  But I couldn't. I couldn't tell him about the baby. He’d throw me out.

  Or would he?

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

  But I was carrying the child of another man. The heir of a rival clan. It was... it was too much.

  I couldn't risk it.

  Yet I couldn't bear to go back to the four walls of my room, where the air felt stifling with my own fears. I needed to breathe.

  I turned away from the stairs Toward a tall glass door leading to the inner courtyard. I pushed the door open; it moved heavily, with a disgruntled creak.

  The chilled evening air struck my face, smelling of dampness and decay.

  The Chernov garden was perfectly suited to the castle itself. There was no riot of color here, nothing like what I had grown used to in the Celestial Citadel. No golden lilies or azure tulips singing in the wind. Only black roses.

  They grew everywhere—massive, with velvety, almost coal-black petals. The bushes were tall, higher than a person, and their thorns, long and sharp as needles, glinted in the light of a lone lantern.`n`nI walked slowly along the path paved with dark slate.

  The roses were beautiful. A frightening, predatory beauty. They didn't reach for the sun, which was almost non-existent here. They seemed to drink in the very darkness thickening in the twilight. I reached toward one of the buds but didn't touch it. I could feel the cold radiating from the flower.

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

  The wind swayed the branches, and the shadows on the path danced a strange, broken dance. For a moment, it seemed that one of the bushes moved on its own, reaching a branch-claw toward my dress.

  I pulled my hand back.

  This place was alive. In its own way. It watched. It evaluated. Just like its master.

  In the distance, a raven croaked. The sound was sharp, like the crack of a breaking bone.

  I shivered, wrapping my arms around my shoulders. The chill seeped under the thin fabric of my dress, but I was in no hurry to leave. This cold was more honest than the false warmth I had lived in before. Here, among the thorns and shadows, I felt a strange sense of calm.

  *We are alike,* I thought, looking at a black bud ready to bloom. *We both grow in the darkness. And we both grow thorns to survive.*

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

  I went to my room.

  ***

  Dinner was quiet.

  Adrian sat at the head of the table. I sat across from him. Marta served the food and watched in silence.

  I ate very little. My stomach was still unsettled. But I forced myself. A little bit, at least.

  "How was your first day?" Adrian asked.

  "Fine."

  "Did you manage the documents?"

  "Yes. I sorted them by date. The urgent ones are separate."

  He nodded.

  "Good. Tomorrow you'll start with the correspondence. I'll show you how to answer official letters."

  "Understood."

  Silence.

  I sipped my water in small gulps. I looked at my plate. I 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... I don't know you."

  "And that frightens you."

  I was silent.

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

  "I have no intention of harming you, Anya. I need you. Alive. Healthy. Capable of working."

  "Why?" I blurted 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 you?"

  "Your magic. Last night, you used a power I’ve never seen. A white light. Pure. No elemental affinity. That’s... a rarity."

  My fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

  "I don't understand."

  "Neither do I." He stood up. "But I will find out. For now, you will work for me. Learn. Develop your gift."

  He stepped closer, stopping right beside my chair.

  "And if you try to lie to me again—I will know. I always know."

  His hand settled on my shoulder. Cold. Heavy.

  A jolt of energy shot through my veins, burning from within. My magic hummed in resonance—deep inside my chest, where my heart beat.

  I shivered.

  He removed his hand and walked out of the dining hall.

  I remained there, gripping the edge of the table.

  *He knows. He senses that I'm hiding something.*

  How long can I lie to him?

  How long?

  ***

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My first day of work was over. I had survived.

  Adrian hadn't thrown me out. He hadn't asked questions. He just watched. And that look... it said more than any words ever could.

  He knows. Or he will soon.

  I pressed a hand to my stomach. My baby. My secret. My weakness. My strength.

  Tomorrow would be a new day. And I would hold on. As best I could. Any way I knew how.

  Because I had no choice.

  I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.