Chapter 11 Bronwen
Bronwen
August and I spent the next few days looking further into the journal, but the deeper we went in, the less we understood. And the words he could decipher didn’t align with what we had already learned.
August had taken me to Carrow’s old chambers, and the moment I stepped inside, I felt the weight of it—everything was spotless and perfectly in place, as if Carrow had only stepped out for a moment.
The curtains were neatly drawn back to let in slivers of light, illuminating polished furniture and immaculate floors.
I scoured the room for anything that felt magical, hoping I could find the blade—or whatever object was used in the ritual.
The only thing that called to me was August.
August had given me nothing but mixed signals since we had gotten here.
One minute he was rubbing his hands on me to put his scent on me, and the next he ignored me for hours.
He would lean in a little too close or stare a little too long and then his expression would shift into something close to disgust.
He had always been confusing, but now I wasn’t sure if he was fighting himself or had finally shown how he truly was.
Like what he had been before was all an act.
But I knew better.
I almost wanted to try to talk it out with him, to push past the way we both betrayed each other, but then the wedding would come up and anger overpowered every other emotion I had.
He knew this was the last thing I would want, and he was going to do it anyway.
But that was tomorrow.
Today, we needed to work on the journal more. But we had combed through every page over and over again and found nothing.
So now we were walking through the castle because August had an idea.
We walked up several flights of stairs, passing only servants until we came to a large set of double doors, and I paused just beyond the threshold.
The room was massive, lit with soft golden light spilling from the daylight that streamed through large, arched windows high on the walls.
The beams of sun caught the dust in the air and painted the room in soft, hazy gold.
Seeing so much sunlight eased something in my chest. I knew then that any vampire lurking nearby would think twice before stepping inside.
Shelves stretched high above my head, filled with old leather-bound books, scrolls, and strange artifacts.
Then I heard it—a quiet shuffle off to the side.
I turned quickly, pulse spiking, only to see a man stepping out from between the rows of towering shelves.
“Forgive me, Bronwen. I didn’t mean to startle you.” It was Benedict.
I had only caught glimpses of the siblings in the great room since Lavina tried to kill me. Dinners with them had stopped, and they seemed to avoid us entirely.
“What are we doing?” I whispered to August even though I knew Benedict could still hear me.
“I told you I had an idea.”
My mouth fell open. “You told him what we’re doing?”
August nodded. “I trust him more than the others.”
I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
I crossed my arms. “So you think he can help us?”
“Benedict has never left,” August said. “He’s lived here all along. He knows the castle. He knows Carrow. I’m hoping he’ll help.”
My gaze flicked back to Benedict.
As if sensing the doubt still clinging to me, his eyes softened. “Carrow has terrorized us all. Some more than others.” He glanced at August. “If there’s any way to stop him, I want to be part of it.”
This Benedict and the one at dinner every night felt like two entirely different people.
August reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the journal that had given me more truth than he ever had. I wondered if I could have read it myself, if I could have prevented all of this.
He handed it to Benedict who opened it and stilled when he realized what it was.
“I see you have been doing your own research already,” he mumbled as he flipped through the pages.
“What did you think I was doing all this time?”
Benedict glanced at me, his gaze flickering down, and he snorted.
“Benedict,” August warned.
“I knew you were planning something. But bringing her into this mess made no sense—until our last dinner.” Benedict’s eyes flicked to me and he smiled before he turned back to August. The amusement didn’t carry.
He looked down at the journal again, fingers brushing the page. “Where did you find this?”
August shrugged. “Near where the first spell was completed. I can’t read it all, though.”
“Of course you can’t. That is what happens when you leave before your schooling is finished.
” Benedict’s tone was stern, one similar to the one I had heard from Papa countless times.
My heart lurched at the thought of him, but now wasn’t the time.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I tried to focus on the conversation before me.
“Schooling?” I asked.
“I told you that vampires are more civilized than you think.”
I rolled my eyes and looked back at Benedict. “You were here during the last Blood Moon ritual?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t at the ritual. Only a select few that Carrow trusts the most are allowed at that.”
August nodded toward the table in the center of the room. “Let’s get started. Time isn’t exactly on our side.”
The long table was covered in tomes and scraps of parchment, the battered journal lying open like a wound at its center. August stood at one end, arms crossed, and I took the farthest chair from him that I could.
The silence stretched as August stared at me.
“Where are we stuck?” Benedict asked, finally moving toward the table.
August gestured to the journal and rested his hands on the back of a chair. “Everywhere.”
Benedict slid into a chair beside me without waiting for permission.
August’s hands flexed.
“I was around when some of the old tongues were still spoken, and I’ve studied the others,” Benedict said to me. “August thought I might be of some use.”
August gave a grunt that could have meant anything.
I offered him a small, guarded smile, still uneasy with how different Benedict was acting from the silent observer I thought I knew.
He began scanning August’s notes.
“Close enough,” he muttered. He flipped the page and looked closer.
Time passed slowly.
I sat for a while, watching Benedict’s face tighten in concentration, his fingers tracing the faded script. Every so often he’d grunt or mutter something under his breath. It was clear this would take hours.
My attention drifted. I glanced at August again—only to find him already looking at me. There was something unreadable in his expression, something almost soft, and that unnerved me more than any glare ever had. I looked away.
I stood and began to move quietly around the room.
Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with relics from centuries past—tarnished crowns, weapons too fragile to wield, boxes inscribed with runes that pulsed faintly.
The air near some of them hummed, like the magic inside hadn’t settled, or didn’t want to.
There were more magical objects in this room than I expected a vampire that persecuted witches to have, which only worried me.
If I was right about the ritual using a magical object, how could I figure out which one was what we were looking for?
I trailed my fingers along a blade with a split hilt and immediately recoiled—the energy that burst through my skin was wrong. Not dark like Carrow’s, not consuming like August’s. Just… off. Like the echo of a scream caught in metal.
Other objects felt different. A pendant throbbed with heat when I brushed it. A scroll crumbled at the edges but still hummed with purpose. It was as if the room remembered what it was meant to protect.
And I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be here at all.
I jumped when August slammed his fist against the table, the sharp crack of it breaking through the stillness. Benedict had just said, “You had most of the translations right and the ones you didn’t weren’t important,” and I didn’t even have time to process the words before August snapped.
“So there is nothing in there? I’ve spent years looking for this and it’s useless?”
Benedict shook his head, fingers drumming the edge of the journal. “There are plenty of things in the archives that may be of use. More journals. Logs of all the artifacts Carrow has collected.”
August ran his hand through his hair as he glanced at me. “Tell him what you think.”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to sound foolish but knowing I had to say something. “Since vampires don’t have magic and can’t perform a spell, it has to be an object that brings forth Carrow. A blade maybe. ”
“Do you think Carrow’s soul is already in Augustus and a blade brings him forward?”
I glanced at August. It would explain a lot. “Maybe.”
Benedict leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with a spark of curiosity and unease. “Maybe there’s documentation of a blade that can do such a thing.”
Behind him, August whispered something under his breath—too soft to catch, but it didn’t sound like words meant for us. I turned toward him, but his gaze was blank, distant. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d spoken. A chill threaded through me.
It would explain that.
August took a breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth. “Start with that, Benedict.”
“We aren’t helping?”
He shook his head. “Not today. Halston needs to speak with us about tomorrow.”
“What—” And then I remembered. Tomorrow was the wedding. My stomach dropped like a stone.
* * *
We sat in a room on the main floor of the castle. The chairs were plush, velvet-backed things that were dulled with age. A hearth flickered low in the corner of the room, the fire inside barely more than a whisper of flame, caged behind glass to keep all embers from escaping.
August sat across from me, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair with a glint in his eyes. But it wasn’t amusement—it was something sharper. Restless. Like his body was here, but his thoughts were pacing somewhere far darker.
Halston waltzed into the room. “Your Grace.” He bowed and glanced at me as he stood back up, a flicker of disapproval tightening the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were bringing the human with you.”
I stared daggers at him.
“I want her here to understand what will happen tomorrow,” August said, his tone clipped.
Halston’s hesitation was noticeable. “As you wish. I just wanted to go over the ceremony one last time. It will be quite simple. I will speak the traditional words. The two of you will be crowned, and I will announce you as King and Queen.”
“No.”
Halston blinked. “No?”
“I want to do it like the humans do. The rings. The kiss. Even the silly practice that has been lost in time. What is it? Ah, yes.” August smiled. “Binding.”
I shot out of my chair, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor. “Are you fucking serious?”
The weight of everything came crashing down at once, settling in my chest like stone.
Binding two souls together wasn’t some romantic tradition—it was sacred.
A ritual where you called to the gods and asked to be tethered together not just in this life, but in the peace found after. It was a promise for eternity.
And it wasn’t lost to time. The humans stopped doing it, because they believed it was witchcraft. Dangerous. But our witches still did it. And only with the deepest love. The most unshakable trust.
How did he even know about that?
“I will not bind myself to you,” I said, the words sharp enough to cut.
August didn’t even look at me.
“Your Grace, I do not think that is a good idea,” Halston said carefully.
“Why not? It doesn’t concern Carrow. It is soul to soul. Mine to hers. Forever.”
Halston faltered. “Well, I suppose—”
“You suppose nothing. You’ll do it because I command it.”
I stepped forward, fists clenched. “Are you deaf? I said I will not bind myself to you!”
August waved me off like I was a child throwing a fit.
“I’m sure you remember how they used to do the bindings. Prepare for it.”
“August—”
He moved before I could finish, cradling me against his chest. And then we were blurring through the halls of the castle, faster than I could process, his grip unrelenting.
I hated when he moved like this—inhumanly fast, air whipped past my ears, the ground vanished beneath my feet. Every time, it made me nauseous.
He stopped in our room, and I shoved out of his grip.
“I feel like this conversation would be better if it was private,” he said, brushing his shirt where it had wrinkled from holding me, as if that inconvenience mattered more than my fury.
“Binding? Are you serious? I would never bind myself to you!”
“Well, you are.” August lifted a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching like this was all mildly amusing to him.
“No, August. I’m not.”
“It’s already been decided.”
He waved his fucking hand again, that same dismissive flick that made my blood boil.
I lunged, grabbing his arm and pulling on his magic, forcing him to his knees with a satisfying thud. “Do not ever wave your hand at me like that again,” I hissed, magic still thrumming at my fingertips.
His gaze landed squarely on my chest—which I could only blame myself for considering it was only inches from his eyes given his current position—and I scowled, ready to snap at him. But then he looked up slowly, amusement flickering behind his dark eyes, and gave me a real, unguarded smile.
As if he liked that I fought back.
“What’s worth more to you, Winnie?” He tilted his head. “You or your brother’s freedom?”
He knew the answer to that. My stomach twisted as I turned away from him, dragging my hands through my hair in frustration.
“That’s why you haven’t made the decree yet.” I spun back around to face him—only to find him already on his feet. “You were planning this.”
“No. I actually just came up with it. Pretty good, right?”
“You’re horrible.”
“Consider it another… incentive to ensure we find a way to stop Carrow. He doesn’t take over my body, I’ll live forever and you’ll never see me in the afterlife.”
“I will haunt you.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “You’d just add to the voices I already hear. It won’t make a difference.”
He turned and began walking slowly toward the doors, speaking as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
“I have several things to take care of before the ceremony so I will have food sent to you. Relax. Take a long bath. Sleep as long as you can before a nightmare wakes you.” He reached the doorway, paused, then glanced back over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”