38. Chapter 38
38
Chapter 38
Bronwen
August waited just outside the magical barrier surrounding our yard, leaning casually against a tree. His usual air of confidence was present, but there was something different today—something quieter. I couldn’t tell if it was his mood or mine that had shifted.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, tightening my cloak around me as I stepped closer to him. “Where are we going?”
He smirked. “You’ll see.”
We walked side by side through the woods, the cool air filling the silence between us.
After a few minutes, August glanced at me. “Do you trust me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Should I?”
His smirk widened, but there was something softer behind it. “Let me carry you.”
I blinked. “ What?”
His smirk deepened. “Come on, Winnie. We both know you’ve been through worse. Besides, it’s not like this is your first time.”
I tensed, remembering the last time he had carried me—how fast he had moved, how the world had blurred into nothing but motion and wind. I had barely been able to breathe, my body reacting in ways I hadn’t understood at the time. But I had refused to let him see it. Refused to admit that, for a moment, the speed had unsettled me.
“You were reckless last time,” I muttered.
“I was efficient,” he corrected smoothly. “I’d let you take us, but you’ve never been there.”
I hesitated. He was waiting, patient, but I saw the challenge in his eyes, the way he was testing me.
With a sigh, I nodded. “Fine. But if you drop me—”
“I won’t.”
Before I could respond, he stepped closer, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. The movement was so smooth, so natural, that I barely had time to react before he took off. The world blurred around us as he moved, the trees merging into streaks of green and brown. The wind whipped past my face, sharp against my cheeks, but August’s grip was firm, grounding me even as the world shifted at impossible speed. My heart pounded—not just from the movement, but from the feeling of being so close to him, held so easily in his grasp.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, we stopped.
I sucked in a breath, the ground solid beneath my feet again as August set me down gently. I stumbled slightly, but he steadied me with a hand on my arm.
“See?” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Told you I wouldn’t drop you. ”
I shot him a glare, but it lacked heat. “I’ll be the one bringing us back.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.
I turned, taking in our surroundings. We were no longer in the dense forest but in an open, hilly expanse. The land stretched far in every direction, the rolling hills covered in golden grass that rustled softly in the wind. In the distance, a few scattered trees stood like sentinels against the sky, their bare branches reaching upward. It was breathtaking, a view so open and endless that it made me feel small in the best way possible.
Then, slowly, snow began to fall.
I watched as the first flakes drifted down, delicate and silent, melting as they touched the warm earth. But the temperature was dropping, and soon the snow would stick, covering the golden grass in a thin layer of white. A chill crept through me, not entirely from the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, unease curling low in my stomach.
“The first snow of the season,” I murmured, more to myself than to August.
He glanced up at the sky. “You don’t like it?”
I shook my head, watching the snow swirl through the air. “It always feels like it brings something with it.” I exhaled, the white mist of my breath vanishing almost instantly. “Something bad.”
The snow will soon fall so heavily that it will leave little room to leave your home. No way to town, no way to get what you need, so you’d better be prepared before you’re trapped. Winter had always felt like a warning to me—a reminder of how easily the world could turn unforgiving. It wasn’t just the cold or the isolation. It was the way it stole things, the way it left the weak behind.
Shadow had been one of them.
His mother had abandoned him, maybe sensing he was too small, too weak to last through the brutal winter.
So, no, I didn’t like the snow. Because it always took something, and I never knew what it would be until it was too late. It was a thief, silent and cruel, and I had spent too many winters watching it steal away things that were too small, too fragile, too forgotten to fight against it. Even now, as the flakes dusted the hills, that same familiar dread curled in my stomach, whispering that this winter would be no different.
I barely noticed August step beside me until he spoke. “My mother brought me here once.”
His voice cut through the spiral of memories, pulling me back to the present. I blinked, my arms still wrapped around myself. “She did?”
He nodded. “I was a child. She took a risk sneaking me away from my father. We sat right here, just looking at the hills and the sky.”
I stayed silent, sensing this was something he didn’t share often.
“It was one of the happiest moments I ever had,” he continued, his voice softer now. “Until he found us.”
My chest tightened. “What happened?”
August let out a slow breath, but he didn’t speak right away. His fingers flexed at his sides, then curled into loose fists before he forced them to relax. He shifted his weight, his gaze flickering toward the horizon as if searching for something in the distance.
For a long moment, I thought he might change his mind, that he would brush past it with one of his usual smirks and some deflective remark. But instead, his shoulders stiffened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“He took me back,” August said, the words carrying the weight of something that had long settled into his bones. “Made sure she never did it again.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “It wasn’t just about control. It was about punishment. She had defied him, embarrassed him. He couldn’t allow that.” His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he stared at some unseen memory. “I never saw her the same way after that. And she never looked at me the same either.”
A heavy silence stretched between us, but I didn’t fill it.
Finally, he scoffed, though there was no humor in it. “Funny, isn’t it? One of the happiest moments of my childhood ended with a lesson in obedience.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “She tried,” I murmured. “She did what she could.”
For the first time since he started speaking, August looked at me. Really looked. His gaze was sharp, assessing, but beneath it, I caught something else—something unguarded. He held my stare for a moment, then nodded once. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She did.”
A silence settled between us, heavier than before. I looked back at the hills, imagining a young August sitting here, his mother beside him, both of them pretending—for just a little while—that they were free.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand. His fingers twitched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.
“Now you’re here again,” I murmured. “And no one’s taking you back.”
He glanced at me, something unreadable in his eyes before he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”
We lingered on the hills until the sun began its slow descent, casting long golden shadows across the land. The snowfall thickened, dusting the earth in white. It was beautiful, but the unease in my chest never left. I had him bite me again the moment the idea ran through my mind. Nightmares had to be a thing of the past now. As the last rays of daylight threatened to disappear, I took a slow breath and reached for August’s arm.
“Time to go,” I murmured.
He nodded, but neither of us moved for a moment. Then, with a steadying inhale, I focused on the familiar pulse of magic beneath his skin. The world folded inward, the biting chill of the hills vanishing in an instant as we reappeared deep within the woods, far enough from my home that no one would witness our sudden arrival.
The forest was quieter here, the thick canopy above muffling the distant wind. A thin layer of snow coated the ground, crunching softly beneath our boots as we steadied ourselves. August’s gaze flickered around as he adjusted to the shift in surroundings, brushing a bit of stray snow from his sleeve.
We began walking, the trees thinning as we neared the outskirts of my home. The familiar sight of our yard was just coming into view when a figure emerged from the shadows ahead. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized him.
“Adar?” I said, my voice a mix of disbelief and joy. He stood tall, his familiar frame clad in the uniform of the Legion, his dark hair tousled as though he’d been traveling for days.
His face broke into a warm smile as he approached. “B! You’re a sight for sore eyes. ”
I hurried forward, wrapping my arms around him. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still at the camp.”
“It was my turn to spend winter at home,” he said with a chuckle, pulling back to study me. “I wanted to surprise you.”
August lingered a few steps behind me, his usual confidence subdued as he watched the exchange. Adar’s gaze shifted to him, his brow lifting slightly. “And who’s this?”
I stepped back, gesturing between them. “Adar, this is August. August, my brother Adar.”
August inclined his head politely, but his eyes flickered over Adar in quick assessment. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Adar extended a hand, his smile easy and genuine. “Same here. Any friend of Bronwen’s is a friend of mine.” His posture remained relaxed, but there was something measured in the way he watched August, waiting for his response.
For a split second, August hesitated, his fingers twitching ever so slightly before stilling. “Forgive me,” he said smoothly, his tone as calm as ever. “I’m not much for handshakes. It’s . . . complicated.”
Adar’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing through them. He let his hand fall to his side, but not before his fingers curled briefly into a loose fist. “Well, I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on her,” he said lightly, though there was a protective edge to his words. “She can be a bit of a handful.”
I rolled my eyes, shoving Adar playfully. “I think I handle myself just fine.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Adar said, grinning. “Still, it’s good to see you safe.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” I replied softly.
As we reached the edge of the magical barrier, Adar paused, glancing at August. “Are you staying for dinner?” he asked .
August shook his head with a faint smile. “Not tonight. I just wanted to make sure Bronwen got home safely.”
Adar nodded, seemingly satisfied, and stepped aside to let me pass. I glanced back at August, who stood just beyond the barrier. “Goodnight,” I said softly.
“Goodnight, Winnie,” he replied, his voice warm despite the distance growing between us.
“ Winnie ?” Adar whispered, amusement dripping from his face.
I shot him the look of death before shoving him off of the porch step.
***
I sat at my dressing table, brushing out the tangles from my hair as the soft glow of the single candle flickered in the mirror. The soft creak of the door behind me made me glance up, and Adar stepped in, closing it gently behind him.
“Do you ever knock?” I asked, trying to mask my surprise with irritation.
He smirked, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of my bed. “Do I need to? It’s not like you’re hiding anything.”
I raised an eyebrow at him through the mirror but didn’t respond, turning my attention back to my hair. “Why are you really home, Adar?” I asked after a moment, my tone casual but curious.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Lowen and one of his friends have gone missing.” Adar’s voice was calm, but I felt the weight of each word settle like stones in my chest. “Word reached the Legion a few days ago, and I volunteered to come home for the winter to investigate. ”
I stilled, my fingers tightening around the brush handle. “Missing?” I echoed, forcing the word past the sudden lump in my throat.
“Yes,” he paused, watching me carefully. “The last time anyone saw Lowen, he mentioned coming to see you.”
My stomach clenched, the weight of his words settling like ice in my chest. I forced myself to move, setting the brush down deliberately, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I haven’t seen him,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even.
Adar didn’t blink. “You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” I replied, spinning around to face him directly. I tried to hold his gaze, to meet the weight of his scrutiny with unwavering confidence, but my pulse hammered in my ears. “Why would I lie about that?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his silence stretching just long enough to make my skin prickle. Then, finally, he leaned back slightly. “It’s not just Lowen,” he said, his tone shifting, sharpening. “A couple of Legion soldiers were killed recently. And those witches they found in the woods.”
I swallowed hard, forcing my hands to remain steady at my sides. “What are you saying, Adar?”
His gaze remained locked onto mine, unrelenting. “Some of the witches were killed by swords,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less heavy. “Not all of them, but enough to raise questions.”
I forced my expression to stay neutral, but inside, every nerve was on edge.
“You’re good with a blade, B,” he continued, his voice measured. “Better than most.”
My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress. “And you think I had something to do with it?”
His silence was more damning than any accusation. He exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly as if he were trying to see past my words, past my carefully crafted calm. “I think,” he said carefully, “that you’ve been keeping secrets. And secrets have a way of coming out.”
The air between us felt too thick, too suffocating. I turned my back to him, reaching for the items on my dressing table more forcefully than I intended. “If you’re here to accuse me, Adar, you can leave.”
For a moment, I thought he might press further. That he might demand the truth. But instead, the bed creaked softly as he stood. I heard the quiet inhale, the hesitation before he spoke again.
“I’m not accusing you,” he said finally. “I’m just saying . . . if there’s something I should know, you can tell me. It’s me and you, remember?”
I kept my back to him, my fingers trembling slightly as I adjusted a brush that didn’t need adjusting.
The door clicked softly shut behind him. Only then did I let out the breath I’d been holding, my hands gripping the edge of the table as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my own face unfamiliar in the flickering candlelight.