Chapter 34
Savla
Ididn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until the soft movement beneath my hand pulled me back into the world. Hanna shifted against the sheets, a small, aching sound pushing past her lips.
My eyes snapped open instantly. The room was dim, lit only by a single light that I was certain one of the other members of the coven had left hovering near the cot. I hadn’t moved from my seat at her side, with her fingers still wrapped in mine.
Her brow furrowed and her breathing picked up, but then she whispered to me.
“Savla…?”
My heart lurched so hard it hurt.
“I’m here,” I said, my voice hoarse from staying quiet too long. “I’m right here.”
Her eyelids fluttered open—heavy, slow and confused. For a moment she stared at the ceiling as if trying to remember where she was. Then her gaze drifted sideways, finding my hand first, then my face and her breath caught.
“Is it really you?” she whispered.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
Her fingers tightened on mine. “I thought maybe—I dreamed you coming.”
My chest pulled tight. “You didn’t dream it. I’m here and I’m not leaving.”
She blinked hard, eyes filling instantly with tears. “Savla…” Her voice cracked on the last syllable, like it hurt to breathe it out.
I wanted to gather her in my arms but I didn’t want to move too fast. I didn’t want to overwhelm her.
“Hey,” I whispered. “You’re safe. You’re home.”
For a heartbeat, she just stared at me—like seeing me grounded her to the world.
Then she pushed herself weakly onto her side, wobbling, and reached toward me with her free hand.
I caught her gently before she toppled off the cot and her hand landed on my cheek. It was warm, shaking but so trusting.
A shock shot through the bond so strong I sucked in a breath. She felt it, too—her eyes widening and glowing faintly with recognition.
“You’re real,” she whispered. “I kept calling for you, but I thought I imagined it.”
“You didn’t imagine anything,” I whispered, my heart breaking.
Her lower lip trembled. “I was so scared.”
That did me in. I leaned forward and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her carefully, slowly, against me. She sank into the embrace like her bones had been waiting for this exact shape to hold her. Her forehead pressed to my collarbone and her breath hitched.
“I felt you through the spell. You were angry. So angry—” she murmured, shivering.
I closed my hand over her head, fingers sliding through her hair.
“I wasn’t angry at you,” I murmured against her crown. “Never at you.”
That was when the door exploded inward. Literally. The hinges flew off and the frame cracked.
Ribbon barreled into the room, croaking so loudly the walls shook. Several witches screamed from outside, one male voice swore and a healing crystal shattered from where the door slammed against a shelf on the wall.
I shot upright, shielding Hanna automatically. Ribbon hopped his giant toad-body onto the cot, nudging Hanna with frantic little squeaks that did not match his enormous size. Hanna let out a soft, shocked laugh.
“Ribbon…?”
Ribbon croaked miserably and pressed his giant head against Hanna’s hip, trembling like he’d been crying. Hanna’s fingers slid into Ribbon’s fur.
“Oh sweetheart. I’m okay, I promise,” she whispered.
Ribbon let out a throaty, hiccupping croak and attempted to climb from the cot onto her lap.
“Ribbon,” I warned, “no—she’s fragile—”
Too late. Hanna giggled—actually giggled—when Ribbon flopped half his weight onto her legs, covering her in warm toad devotion. And Gods help me, that sound—the sound of her laughing again—nearly made my knees give out.
Tabitha rushed in, breathless. “The toad broke the door!”
Zara followed. “He also ate the doorknob.”
Tasia stalked in, her hands on her hips as she glared at Ribbon.
“We will bill you.”
Hanna smiled weakly.
“Let him stay,” she whispered. “Please?”
Tabitha softened instantly. “Of course, darling.” Then glared at me. “But you fix the door.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face if I tried.
Hanna’s smile faded slowly as she looked up at me again.
“What happened at the estate?” she whispered. “Everything’s so fuzzy.”
I steadied my breath because I didn’t want her reliving it, but she deserved to know.
“They trapped you in a glamor cocoon,” I said quietly. “Corwin and your parents used a spell meant for binding. Tabitha explained it a little. It was used by slavers before it was outlawed. You were losing consciousness when we found you.”
Her pulse rolled through the bond—fear, anger, grief and disbelief layered together.
“And you…” Her voice faltered. “You came for me.”
I swallowed thickly. “The moment I felt you missing, I—” I stopped, unable to say it without feeling the raw panic I’d been drowning in.
She waited patiently, her fingers running through Ribbon’s fur in soft movements. I forced the truth out.
“I thought I was too late.”
The fingers of her free hand found mine again.
“Savla…”
Her magic brushed me, gentle but trembling as if she was reaching out in the dark. It took everything in me not to pull her onto my lap and never let go.
Outside the broken doorway, voices rose. I could barely tell them apart but I heard Dristan, Zara and Tasia. I wasn’t sure who else was there, but I was certain there were more. I was too focused on where my mate was resting to care.
“…Illicit glamor spells—”
“…full guild investigation—”
“…they lied about the inheritance—”
“…soul-binding coercion—”
“…arrest warrants—”
“…that estate is a crime scene—”
Hanna flinched, waking up slowly from where she’d been drifting to sleep next to me.
“What inheritance?” she asked in a low voice.
I tensed but Tabitha stepped into the room, face falling with sympathy.
“Darling… your grandmother left everything to you. The apothecary business. The patents. The estate funds. All of it,” she whispered, running her fingers through Hanna’s hair.
Hanna went still. “What?” she whispered.
Her magick fluttered like a bird slamming into glass.
Tasia crossed her arms. “Your parents hid it. They tried to force you into a marriage contract so the assets would transfer to Corwin’s family.”
Hanna’s eyes filled, wide and wet, as she croaked out, “She left it… to me? Not them?”
Tabitha nodded, voice firm. “Of course she did.”
The grief on Hanna’s face nearly broke me.
“She loved you,” Tabitha said gently. “She wanted you to have a life of choices.”
Hanna bowed her head.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought... they always said that I was nothing in the business.”
My chest cracked open like a wound.
“You are everything,” I said softly.
She looked at me then—really looked—and in her gaze was the kind of devastation that only came from realizing you’d spent your whole life believing lies.
It was long minutes later, after the coven had left and Hanna had had time to come to terms with the fact that she was the sole benefactor of the apothecary, that she reached for my hand again.
“Savla… back at the manor… I felt you. I felt everything. The bond—” Her voice trembled. “Are we…?”
I stopped her with a tiny shake of my head. I wasn’t dismissing or denying anything but I was just too terrified to do anything else.
“It’s not—” I rasped. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re still glamor-sick and the bond reacts to vulnerability. It doesn’t mean—”
Her fingers tightened painfully around mine.
“Savla.” My name was sharp and pleading in her voice. “Stop protecting me from the truth.”
I shut my eyes. The truth was that the bond was already singing between us. I felt her thoughts echo in my ribs like they were my own and I would’ve razed the estate to ashes if we’d been a moment later.
The truth was that I loved her more than anything, but I couldn’t say it for some reason. It was stuck in my throat.
“I’m here,” I said instead. “That’s all I can promise.”
She swallowed.
“Then stay,” she whispered.
The words hit harder than any punch. My breath froze, and my heart roared but I couldn’t lie to her.
“I will,” I managed, my voice breaking.
A tiny smile trembled across her lips. She eased onto her side, curling closer and Ribbon draped himself protectively over Hanna’s legs like a squishy bodyguard.
I sat beside them, leaning forward so my forehead touched Hanna’s temple. Her breath warmed my jaw and her magick sighed against me.
For the first time since I dragged her from that cocoon of poison and lies—she slept peacefully. Because I was there. Because she trusted me.
And because the bond, whether I admitted it or not, had wrapped us together in a way neither of us could walk away from. Not anymore.