Chapter 25
Home Sweet Home
Ember didn’t even give herself time to think or form a coherent thought.
She just fired the first hex that came to mind, directly at Rowan’s chest. Rowan’s eyes widened as she ducked, caught off guard, but luckily, Helvig had thrown up a shield, blocking the attack and sending it directly back at Ember.
She landed with a thud on the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs.
“Ember!” Aoife hissed. “Honestly, what has gotten into you today?”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Ember gaped at Rowan, ignoring her mother entirely.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Rowan replied.
“Three against one in a rundown house, and then you and that bloody Merrow just left me to die at the edge of the Dark Forest? Might as well have just fed me to the Cu Sidhe yourself.” There was fire in her voice, but none in her eyes.
They were empty and longing for something Ember couldn’t quite place.
It almost made her feel bad for the girl.
Almost.
“You used me,” Ember whispered. “You used me and just left. I thought we were friends.”
Rowan didn’t respond, her mouth set in a straight line, arms stiff at her side. Her eyes were hollow, dark circles underneath like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her face was almost grey, lighter than Ember remembered, like she never got out in the sun.
“I know it’s a bit of a change,” Helvig interjected, “but I hope you will grow to love Tórsvik.”
“How will I get to Heksheim every day?” Ember asked.
Rowan snickered, and it took all her energy not to try to hex her again.
“Love,” Aoife cooed, as she walked next to Ember, stroking her hair, “you won’t be going back to Heksheim.”
Ember felt like she had been shot in the chest, all of the air sucked out of her lungs. The thought of never walking to class flanked by Fen and Killian, sitting mesmerized by Professor Bjorn, or studying on the lawn with Odette made her feel like a part of her had died.
“How will I learn magic?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering. “How will I finish my education?”
“I’ve hired a tutor to come work with you during the day,” Aoife replied, “and you’ll work with your granda’ when the time comes.”
When the time comes.
The thought of working under him, the man who had turned Rowan against her family and friends, made her stomach sour.
But what choice did she have?
“So, I’ll never get to go home then?” she said quietly, thinking about never riding her AirWave through the orchards again with Fen, never seeing Maia, never getting another hug from Eira or hearing Otto’s laugh from the den. Never seeing Killian grin at her from across the room. Never going home.
Home.
“Mo Stór,” Aoife whispered, as she kissed her on the head, “you are home.”
Gaelen silently showed Ember and Theo to their respective bedrooms, a look of pity shadowing her face. Ember closed the door and sucked in a breath.
The room was huge.
It resembled a room she imagined a princess would grow up in.
Floor to ceiling windows lined the walls, maroon curtains draping them on each side.
A king size, four poster bed sat in the middle, a plush rug underneath it and a table on each side.
An armoire sat to the right, next to a walk-in closet, and a door leading to her own bathroom sat on the wall to her left.
But despite all the lavish comfort, the room felt cold.
Ember threw her bag on the desk underneath one of the windows and tapped lightly on the oak.
She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, ready to call Fen and Killian and tell them what had happened, when her world shattered all over again.
When her spell bounced off Helvig’s shield and knocked her backwards, her phone had been in her back pocket.
It was crushed.
She pushed the button repeatedly, willing it to turn on, but it wouldn’t.
She felt her last bit of hope slip from her fingers as she dropped it on the desk.
She wiped away the silent tears and slipped into her bed when she heard the door creak slowly open.
Theo shuffled in the room; eyes rimmed red as he climbed in bed beside her.
“Together?” he signed.
“Together.”