Chapter 15 Bronwen #2
I knew he was still angry with me—for the countdown I’d placed on him, for the secrets I’d kept—but he was thriving in this moment.
Whether he’d admit it or not, he basked in the weight of every gaze turned toward him.
Power radiated from him in waves, and I realized that maybe he had always been this powerful.
Maybe he’d just hidden it to make himself more palatable to me.
“And because of that, I have a decree,” he continued. “One that I expect everyone to follow immediately.”
The crowd froze. A young mother clutched her child tightly, a hand pressed over their mouth like a seal. Even the wind seemed to pause.
“Witches are now free to practice.”
A collective gasp broke through the hush like glass shattering.
“You will be welcoming of the witches,” August said, raising his voice. “The Legion is now in the service of protecting witches. And if they get word of any unkindness, they will handle you in the way they handle things.”
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Cloaked figures leaned into one another, trading hurried words as the weight of the decree sank in.
“But your majesty, they are monsters!”
That voice—I knew it instantly. Lydia Reeves. Lowen’s mother.
Slowly, I removed the hood of my cloak, revealing my face and the crown. Her eyes met mine, and she recoiled like she’d seen a ghost.
“Are you calling your queen a monster?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
August smiled.
“I suggest you choose your next words carefully,” he said. “Your queen tends to not be as kind as I am.”
Lydia’s eyes darted between us, her expression crumpling as she bowed her head and stepped back into the crowd, silence trailing her like a shadow.
And that’s when I saw him.
Adar, tucked into the corner of the crowd, his eyes wide. I expected comfort. Instead, I felt sick. What did he see when he looked at me now? His sister? A puppet queen? August’s favorite weapon?
August, meanwhile, had stepped forward. His expression was almost serene now, the corner of his mouth lifting like this was all unfolding exactly as he had imagined.
“I understand your hesitation,” he said to the crowd.
“You were taught to fear them. You were told witches bring ruin, that they are unclean, unnatural. But you were wrong.”
The crowd held its breath.
August’s voice dropped lower, but somehow it carried further. “This is your queen. You will not just accept her. You will revere her. You will understand that what runs through her is not something to fear. It is something to kneel for.”
He let the silence stretch. Let the words sink in.
“Those who cannot live with this new law,” he said, “are welcome to leave. Today. But if you choose to stay and harm a witch, an example will be made out of you. And I promise that example will not be quick.”
A sudden movement caught my eye.
Adar.
He stepped forward—no, he surged forward, breaking through the edge of the crowd like something inside him had snapped. His eyes locked on mine, wild with urgency. I could see the moment his restraint crumbled, the moment he stopped caring about being recognized or what might happen.
“Bronwen!”
But he didn’t make it far.
Legion soldiers moved fast. Three of them stepped between us, drawing their swords in one unified, metallic hiss. The crowd stumbled back, startled gasps breaking the tension. Adar skidded to a halt, hands raised.
My heart lurched.
“Let him through,” I commanded. “He’s my brother.”
Without any hesitation, the soldiers moved. And I didn’t like how much I enjoyed that.
Adar didn’t wait. He rushed past them the second their swords lowered, pushing through the final space between us. And then his arms were around me, crushing and warm and desperate.
His familiarity hit me so hard I nearly collapsed. It had been so long. Too long. He didn’t speak. He just held me tighter, like he was afraid I’d vanish. My arms moved on their own, curling around him. The burn behind my eyes was sharp, sudden, and I blinked hard against it.
For the first time in days, I let myself feel safe. Just for a moment.
August stepped back, giving us space, though I could still feel the gravity of his presence like a storm held at bay. He didn’t interrupt, but I knew he was watching.
The crowd, sensing the shift in energy, began to stir. Slowly at first, like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to move. Then one by one, they began to step forward.
The first man dropped to his knee before August, then another, and another. Until a line had formed, each person bowing, murmuring their oaths or keeping their eyes downcast in reverence or fear—it was hard to tell which.
They were welcoming their new king. Not with cheers, but with submission.
And August, the mad thing that he was, stood at the center of it all like he’d been born for this moment. He looked like divinity wrapped in silk and steel.
I let go of Adar and looked at him. “You’re okay,” I whispered, more to convince myself than anything.
“You’re okay.” He glanced over me as if he expected to find something wrong.
“Did you go back to the cabin?”
“I went back to talk to Jonah but I couldn’t stay that far, not knowing the next time I’d see you. I’ve… I’ve been staying in August’s home and leaving only when necessary.”
I blinked. “You’ve been in town? That was too dangerous.”
“You’ve been in a castle of vampires. I don’t want to hear it.”
I managed a tight smile. He hadn’t changed.
A sharp whiff of smoke pulled my attention away. I turned and looked at the blackened remains of the podium, its wood scorched and splintered.
“Do you know what happened?”
I shook my head slowly, still staring at the pile of wood like it might give me answers.
My fingers curled tighter around the edge of my cloak.
Adar stared at it for a moment longer, his eyes distant and unfocused, as if he were back there in the moment that it happened.
His chest rose and fell with a breath so deep it trembled slightly at the top, and then he finally tore his gaze away.
“Well, have you made any progress?” he asked, quieter now.
“We think we are looking for a blade of some sorts.” I kicked at a chunk of ice with the toe of my boot. “But that is all we know. Just pieces. Clues that don’t make sense yet.”
Adar was quiet for a moment. I felt his gaze on me, heavy and thoughtful.
“We can still run,” he offered, like it was the last thread of hope he could give.
“I’m not giving up yet,” I whispered. “There are so many pieces… I just have to figure out how they go together.”
He stepped a little closer, his breath misting the space between us. “If I could help you, I would.”
I nodded. I wasn’t the smartest, but Adar had always struggled more than I did with schooling. He never let that stop him from trying, though. That stubbornness—it was something we shared.
Behind us, a throat cleared. August.
We turned together, and there he was, standing just close enough to remind us who held the leash. He said nothing. Just lifted a hand and gestured toward the carriage like it was time to move on.
I turned back to Adar, not ready to let go yet. “Let’s meet for breakfast at the bakery in a week,” I said, squeezing his hand.
He gave a nod, but before I could step away, his grip shifted. He caught my wrist, firm and steady.
“Hey,” he said, low. “Be careful. Don’t let this go to your head.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, brow furrowed.
“The power, B.” His eyes searched mine. “Do not fall for him again because of it.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak. Then I gave the smallest nod, the kind that said what I couldn’t say out loud.
And then I let go.