Chapter 25: Delphine

The castle didn’t sleep that night.

It didn’t roar or groan or shatter windows like it had when I first arrived. This was subtler. More intimate.

It pulsed.

The walls hummed just beneath hearing. Doors swelled slightly in their frames. Hallways curved off course only to snap back the moment I looked too long. Candles flared higher than they should. Mirror glass refused to show my reflection in passing.

It was like the castle was anxious.

Or worse—angry.

I tried to ignore it, focusing on the documents Nerisse had requested: leyline reports, anchor sketches, runework drafts. All neat. All meticulous. All real. I wanted to be prepared when she came with more questions.

But I couldn’t concentrate.

The ink in my pen vibrated faintly on the parchment.

The mark on my arm was warm again.

Not painful—just present. A quiet reminder that I was tethered to something larger than myself. Something that felt threatened.

It took me a moment to realize why.

Someone had made a move.

-

I found Mira in the lower greenhouse, tending to a shelf of lavender seedlings. It was late, but she often worked past midnight—said she preferred the quiet when the castle wasn’t “so nosy.”

Tonight, though, she looked tense.

“You felt it too,” I said as I stepped inside.

She didn’t look up. “I didn’t need to. The vines wrapped around the east stairwell like it owed them money.”

Despite the worry, I almost smiled.

Mira finally met my eyes. Her brows furrowed slightly. “It’s worse when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“The castle thinks you are.”

I let out a breath and leaned against the worktable across from her. “Someone in this place is working against us. I don’t know who, but I can feel it. The magic's turning restless again. Like it wants to shield me. Or strike.”

Mira wiped her hands on a towel and set down her shears.

“It’s not just the castle that’s changing,” she said. “You are.”

I went still.

“You don’t look the same. Don’t move the same. You speak in ways you didn’t before. People hear you differently now. Even the walls seem to bend around your voice.”

“It’s the mark,” I said quietly. “It’s syncing more than just magic. It’s syncing me.”

Mira tilted her head. “Do you want it to?”

That stopped me.

I hadn’t asked myself that question—not really. I’d spent so long responding to what the castle did, trying to understand it, trying to survive it. I hadn’t asked whether I was beginning to want what it offered.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

Mira studied me for a long moment. “Then figure it out soon. Because people like Nerisse? They can smell hesitation. And people like Cassian—”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t need to.

Cassian had always watched me too closely. Smiled too easily. Spoken like someone placing chess pieces when everyone else thought they were playing cards. If he saw me as a threat—or worse, a prize—he’d act. Quietly. Efficiently.

“I won’t let them take this from me,” I said.

“Then don’t let yourself be taken by it either.”

I looked at her—really looked—and realized Mira hadn’t just been watching me.

She’d been worrying for me.

Not as a steward of the castle.

As a friend.

I stepped forward and placed my hand gently over hers on the table.

“I’m still me,” I said.

“For now,” she replied.

Then she squeezed my hand back.

And that—for the first time in days—felt like enough.

-

Later that night, a page knocked on my door.

He looked pale and too young to be standing in the castle at this hour, but his words were clear: “Auditor Nerisse requests a private audience. She’s waiting in the solar.”

He didn’t say I could decline.

He didn’t need to.

I dismissed him with a nod, took a moment to steady myself, and made my way through the still-twisting corridors toward the solar—one of the few rooms that hadn’t changed shape since my arrival. It was a quiet chamber at the castle’s heart, once used for quiet spellwork and written correspondence. A neutral place. A room where people went to talk.

Nerisse sat near the hearth, one leg crossed over the other, back perfectly straight. The flames lit the edges of her dark braid and glinted off the subtle sigils woven into the cuffs of her robe. She looked like a shadow given purpose.

“Miss Ashwood,” she said as I entered, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Thank you for coming.”

“You didn’t really give me a choice.”

Her smile was mild. “I rarely do.”

I sat, keeping my expression even. I didn’t bother asking why she’d summoned me. She’d tell me soon enough—and I wanted to see how she’d do it.

She studied me for a long moment before speaking. “You’re not what I expected.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Most witches would be unspooling at the seams by now. Your magic is tied to a living seal with a will of its own. And yet, you’re still functional. Impressive.”

I met her gaze. “Is that why you’re here? To compliment me before the Council cuts me loose?”

“I’m not here on a purge mission, Delphine.”

She used my first name like it was a tool, watching how I’d react to the intimacy of it.

I didn’t flinch.

“I’m here because the Council sees possibility,” she continued. “The magic of Castle Thorne has never willingly adapted to anyone before. But it’s responding to you. That makes you dangerous. But it also makes you useful.”

“And which do you value more?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned forward slightly.

“The Council sent you here with a task, and you’ve done more than complete it. You’ve reshaped it. Now the question is: are you willing to let us shape you in return?”

I held her gaze. “What exactly are you offering?”

“Protection. Advancement. Authority. If you’re willing to continue your work under Council supervision, we could see to it that your position here becomes permanent. Official. Your research could be published. Your influence expanded.”

“You’d make me a weapon.”

“I’d make you a channel,” she corrected. “Right now, the seal answers to you. But you answer to no one. That’s unsustainable.”

I let the silence stretch.

She was good. Calm, strategic, careful. The kind of woman who could smile as she dismantled your life with a single stroke of a pen.

But I had grown sharper, too.

“I’ve already given the castle more than I planned,” I said. “It knows me. It recognizes me. And I don’t think it would appreciate being repurposed by people who only show up when they smell power.”

Nerisse didn’t smile. She didn’t blink. But something cold flickered behind her eyes.

“I’m not threatening you, Delphine. Not yet. But I am telling you the truth.”

She stood then, smooth and unhurried. Her shadow stretched long across the tiled floor.

“There will come a moment,” she said, “when you must decide if you belong to this place… or if you’re merely its latest possession. I suggest you make that decision before the seal makes it for you.”

Then she left.

And for the second time that night, I stood alone in a room that no longer felt like it belonged to me.