Chapter 30 Bronwen
Bronwen
“The whore—no, that’s not right. Horse. The horse… ran. Well, that was anticlimactic. I was a little more excited when I thought it said whore.”
Benedict let out an audible huff. “I’ll probably regret asking, but what are you doing?”
“August is trying to teach me how to read the old tongue. He wrote out some sentences for me to practice.”
We’d spent the past few weeks working hard in the archives, trying to piece together anything useful. But truthfully, I knew I wasn’t much help. Not when I couldn’t read most of the tomes and was stuck staring at strange illustrations, trying to guess what any of it meant.
“Could you read them in your head? I’m trying to concentrate.”
“I’ll try,” I muttered.
August had been gone for hours—off doing some mysterious, kingly thing he deemed too dangerous to bring me along for. And of course, the safest place for me in his eyes was here. With Benedict.
At first, I thought me having to be with him at all times was about my safety. But now I’d started to realize that he was just so obsessed with me and couldn’t admit it.
And now? We were so far past that.
I flipped the page over and tried to focus again.
La… Lav… Lavina.
Ugh. Way to kill a mood.
Lavina is a… b… bi—“Bitch!” I burst out, grinning. “Ha! Lavina is a bitch. That’s a good one.”
Benedict slammed his book shut hard enough to make the table rattle.
“Why does he have you here?”
I blinked at him. “To help?”
“Is that what you’re doing? Helping?”
“I—” I faltered. “I don’t know. He said I needed to help.”
Benedict leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”
“You don’t think I am?”
“It doesn’t seem like it. You were more useful before the two of you started doing… whatever it is you’re doing.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I pushed the papers aside and stood from the table, the chair creaking as I walked away.
My fingers drifted across the surface of the nearest shelf, trailing dust and the cool edges of relics I couldn’t name.
Bits of forgotten history that meant everything to someone once—and maybe nothing now.
Maybe that was what August and I were destined to become.
The silence pressed in.
Since August and I had found our way back to each other, I’d been living in a comfortable delusion. Letting myself feel safe and distracted. Like maybe this could be our life. Like we had more time than we actually did.
But we didn’t.
We had less than two months.
Less than two months before the Blood Moon.
And the fear that had been buried under stolen moments and warm sheets began to bubble up again. I had lost too many things. I couldn’t lose him, too.
I stopped in front of a cracked glass case and stared at the object inside without seeing it. My heart thudded harder.
“He can’t come back,” I said suddenly, turning to Benedict. “I didn’t do what I did for nothing.”
He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”
“I killed him.” It was barely above a whisper. “I killed Carrow. I just didn’t know he would take over August’s body.”
Before he could react, August burst through the doors, smiling from ear to ear.
“I have an idea. One that will get you out of the archives and one that might actually help us.”
I quickly smoothed my expression. I didn’t want him to see me worried when I knew he spent his nights restless.
Tossing and turning from whatever nightmare he had conjured up.
It wasn’t me and the mark doing it. There hadn’t been a day when he didn’t feed on me for as long as I could remember. It was Carrow and the Blood Moon.
“And what would that be?” I asked as I plastered a smile on.
“Would you like to see the armory, Winnie?”
I didn’t have to fake a smile when he said that.
We left the archives behind, the door groaning shut behind us as August led me down a corridor I hadn’t been through before. The deeper we went, the quieter the castle became. This hall felt abandoned with its torches barely flickering.
He stopped at a heavy wooden door and pushed it open. The scent of oiled leather and cold steel filled my lungs as I stepped through and froze.
Weapons lined the walls. Blades of every shape and size, some polished to a mirror shine, others ancient and tarnished with age.
Swords, axes, daggers, even staves and spears, all arranged in neat rows like an army waiting to be summoned.
The collection stretched down the length of the room, enough to outfit the entire Legion.
And when I focused, I could hear the hum of magic inside some of them—soft and steady like a heartbeat, others sharp and erratic like a whispering scream.
“Gods,” I whispered. “It’s like a graveyard of wars.” I turned to August and put my hands on my hips. “Why haven’t you shown me this already? It’s like a dream come true.”
“I was too mad at you before.”
I shoved him, not that he budged an inch.
“Benedict’s been trying to match the blades we marked, but it’s harder than expected. A lot of them look similar to the sketches we’ve got. I figured maybe you could sort through what’s here—see which ones are humming with magic—and we’ll narrow it down from there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I moved to the nearest wall, my fingers gliding over the hilts and blades, the metal cool beneath my skin. I paused at each one, feeling for the magic. Most were silent, but one made me stop. The magic curled around it like smoke, faint but undeniable.
I pulled it from the wall, surprised by the weight and how natural it felt in my grip. My pulse kicked up as I turned it in my hand. The blade glimmered faintly in the low light, etched with symbols I didn’t recognize.
This one had a lot of power.
I turned around and pointed it at August. “This one.”
In a blur, he was behind me, his chest pressing lightly to my back as he reached around to lower my hand with a firm grip.
“Let’s not point magical blades at me when we don’t know what they do,” he said, his voice low near my ear. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me early.”
I turned and smiled at him, letting it linger just long enough to make him narrow his eyes suspiciously before I walked away. I carried the blade over to the entrance and set it down carefully near the door.
Then I returned to the wall, ready to start again, fingers trailing over the next row of weapons.
By the time I made it to the end of the first row—which must have held close to a hundred blades—I had found three more humming with magic.
Some of the magic felt familiar. But others were foreign and strange, buzzing against my skin like static, pulling at the edges of my awareness in ways that made me uneasy.
We kept those separate from the others.
I started down the second row, slower now, the weight of the task settling into my bones.
Then a sword caught my attention. The blade was long and elegant, forged of dark steel that reflected almost no light.
Its hilt was wrapped in soft black leather, worn just enough to hint at use, and a single crimson jewel sat in the center of the crossguard.
It looked regal, dangerous, and beautiful.
I reached for it and felt no magic. Just cold metal and perfect balance.
Still, I didn’t put it back.
I stepped back from the wall and shifted the sword between my hands, letting the familiar motion of testing its weight ground me. I moved like I was preparing to spar, wrists rotating, feeling the way it moved through the air.
“Do you feel something in that one?”
“No,” I said, still turning the sword slowly in my hands. “It’s just… beautiful. The balance, the way it moves.”
I glanced up and froze.
August had crossed the room without me noticing, grabbing a sword from the first row—one I had already deemed empty of magic. He turned it in his hands once, testing its weight with a flick of his wrist, before sliding into a fighting stance.
Then he tilted his chin and gave me that infuriating little smirk.
I just stood there, blinking at him. Shocked.
“What?” he asked.
I blinked again. “I didn’t know you knew how to wield a blade.”
“I’ve lived for centuries,” he said with a lazy shrug. “You pick up more than a few skills when boredom is your most persistent companion. There are things I can do that would probably surprise you.”
I smiled. “I can’t wait to find out just how many surprises you’re hiding.”
He motioned me forward with a flick of his fingers. “Come on then. Remind me how you took down three Legion soldiers on your own.”
I approached cautiously, tightening my grip on the hilt. Our swords met with a clean, sharp clang that echoed off the stone walls. I stepped back and swung again, testing his defense. He parried easily, his movements fluid, effortless.
We circled each other, our blades clashing again and again, the sound of steel ringing out between us. My breath came quicker, arms warming from the exertion as I twisted and ducked, trying to catch him off guard. He smirked at every failed attempt, clearly enjoying himself.
I feigned a left swing, then shifted my weight and came at him from the right. He blocked it just in time, and I caught a flicker of something serious in his eyes—like maybe he hadn’t expected me to move that fast.
But then, just as I moved in again, ready to press my advantage, he vanished in a blink. He was behind me, his blade already lifted.
I spun, scowling. “That’s cheating!”
He raised a brow. “It’s not cheating; it’s using my strengths.”
I stomped my foot, half laughing, half annoyed. “Then I want fangs and speed too! That only seems fair.”
His smirk faded, eyes locking on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Would you really want that?”
I hesitated, the question catching me off guard. “I haven’t really thought about it,” I admitted. “But… I don’t like the idea of aging while you stay flawlessly young. That doesn’t exactly seem fair either.”
He took a step back, raising his sword again. “I don’t know,” he said, the edge of a smile tugging at his lips, “I’m not sure I could handle eternity with your attitude.”