Chapter 33
Savla
By the time we reached the Everlock building, the entire main floor buzzed with frantic, taut magic. Lights flickered and protective runes flared along the walls. A half-dozen orcs ghosted through the atrium with weapons drawn, even though we were already inside.
They had felt the bond surge. They had felt my surge.
Hanna clung to me the whole way in, her body limp with exhaustion, but her fists still curled weakly in my jacket as if she thought someone might rip her away again.
No one would. Not ever again.
Tabitha rushed ahead to fling open the door to the healing suite.
“In here,” she commanded. “Now.”
I carried Hanna inside and lowered her onto the padded cot, slow and careful, like she was made of spun glass and every muscle in her body was cracked. My hands shook so badly, I almost missed the edge of the mattress.
She whimpered when I took my arms away. Just once. It was barely a sound, but it tore into me like claws. Just like when she’d made that sound in the manor.
“I’m here,” I murmured immediately, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m right here.”
Her breathing steadied as the coven surged into the room around us. Tabitha, Zara, Floria and Tasia.
Their expressions were grim and determined. As sharp as blades were before slicing. Floria stepped forward with a vial filled with a flickering green potion.
“This will purge the glamor from her bloodstream,” she said gently. “But it’ll hurt.”
Hanna was barely conscious, but when she tipped the potion to her lips, she swallowed instinctively. Almost instantly, her back arched, her hands seized around my wrist and a choked cry ripped from her throat. The sound hollowed me out.
“Easy,” Floria murmured. “It’s pulling the tethered magic apart.”
Hanna gasped like she’d been struck, then curled sideways, her beautiful face twisting in pain. Dark threads of glamor began to seep from her skin like smoke, unraveling from her veins.
I gripped her hand so tightly I worried I’d hurt her. But she squeezed back, hard.
The bond throbbed, hot and urgent, like it was trying to pull some of her pain into me. I welcomed it. Anything to lessen her suffering. Tabitha’s hand landed on my shoulder.
“She’s strong,” she whispered. “She’ll get through the purge.”
I nodded once, unable to speak. Minutes dragged like hours while Hanna shook violently, breaths shallow and rapid. Her magic flickered in broken sparks across her arms. Zara whispered protective incantations under her breath, stroking Hanna’s ankle in comfort.
Finally—finally—the last of the glamor smoke dissipated. Hanna sagged back onto the mattress, drained and trembling. Floria released a pent-up breath.
“It’s out,” she sighed.
Zara let out a shaky sob.
“Thank the Goddess Mother—” she gasped.
My throat burned as Floria set a glowing rune stone at Hanna’s sternum.
“She’ll sleep now. Her spirit needs time to re-anchor,” she explained.
Tabitha squeezed my arm, voice gentler than I’d ever heard from her. “Savla. She’ll want you close when she wakes up,”
I didn’t have to be told twice. I sat on the edge of the cot while Hanna shifted instinctively toward me, her hand finding my thigh and gripping weakly. That simple touch nearly undid me.
The coven moved back, clearing space for her breathing to even out. Krusk strode into the room then, with Enka on his heels. Both stopped short when they saw her—pale, shaking, but alive.
Enka’s voice cracked. “Shit, Sav.”
I swallowed hard, my voice shaking. “I know.”
Krusk stepped closer, his huge frame blocking half the room. “Is she…?”
“She’ll live,” I said, voice rough. “But they nearly killed her.”
Enka swore viciously. “We should’ve finished them off while we were there.”
Krusk nodded once. “We still might,” he hissed.
Tabitha cleared her throat loudly. “He’ll face the magical courts. And whatever verdict they pass won’t be kind,” she told us, her voice dark with promise.
Zara muttered, “Especially after I testify,” she snapped. “He put my sister through hell. He can choke and her parents can burn.”
Tasia smirked. “I’ll help you write your statement.”
The clan warriors hovering outside the door murmured approval. Dristan strode in behind them, arms crossed, jaw tight.
“Everyone out,” he ordered. “Except Savla.”
No one argued. No one even hesitated. Within moments, the room emptied—except for Dristan, who walked to my side, staring at Hanna with a tense set to his shoulders I recognized from every other time he had to bear the weight of someone being hurt under his watch. He turned his gaze toward me.
“You almost lost her,” he whispered.
I clenched my teeth.
“I know,” I gritted.
“You almost lost yourself,” he added.
I shut my eyes. “I know.”
“But you didn’t,” he finished simply. “You protected her, but the bond didn’t consume you. You didn’t become your father.”
My chest twisted so sharply I almost folded. I looked up at him, sharply, but he just put his hand on my back—firm and grounding.
“I know a little something about you, brother. And while you might be scared that you’ll turn out like him, I can promise you that after knowing you for a short time, I already know you won’t.”
The emotion in my chest threatened to overflow. It was all too much, but Dristan patted my back again.
“Rest with her. We’ll handle the fallout,” he told me.
I nodded, barely managing the words, “Thank you.”
He left without another sound and the room quieted. Only Hanna’s soft breathing filled the space. Her hand still clung to my thigh, fingers twitching faintly from exhaustion. I covered it with mine.
Her magic shimmered at the contact—sleepy, raw and instinctual. It curled around my palm like a frightened animal seeking heat and my breath hitched. She needed me, yes, but even more, she trusted me.
And for the first time in my life, the bond didn’t feel like a chain or a curse. It felt like a lifeline. She stirred faintly and her lips parted.
“Savla…” she whispered in her sleep, voice thin and hoarse.
I froze. She’d said my name like a prayer—like a plea. As though she’d been calling for me long before I reached her. My hand tightened around hers.
“I’m here,” I whispered, leaning forward so my forehead nearly touched hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her body softened at my voice, her magick pressed into me and something inside me—something I’d spent years welding shut—opened like a fault line. I brushed my thumb across her knuckles.
“If you’d died,” I murmured, voice shaking, “I don’t know what I would’ve become.”
She exhaled softly, breath warm against my wrist. I swallowed hard, my vision burning.
“You’re safe,” I said again. “You’re mine to protect.”
The bond pulsed slow, steady and unmistakable.
I let my eyes close. For the first time since the nightmare began, my body eased, tension melting out of my shoulders.
And there, in the quiet glow of the healing suite, with her hand in mine and the echo of her voice lingering in the air—I realized with terrifying clarity how much I loved her. And there was no way I could pretend anymore.