Chapter 32 #2
“How are you doing, Mo Stór?” Aoife asked, as she placed the napkin in her lap.
Ember stiffened at the pet name. She had no right to call her that, not anymore.
She ignored the question, focusing instead on piling her plate full of all the food it would hold.
If she kept her mouth full, she wouldn’t have to talk.
In that moment, Rowan walked into the room and sat on the other side of her.
Ember rolled her eyes—was this an ambush?
“Your mother tells me she had a talk with you,” Helvig said from the end of the table—the head of the table. “I must say, I’m very pleased that we can all stop walking on eggshells now, no more secrets.”
Ember bristled, nostrils flaring. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, plastering on a smile that was sickly sweet. “I’m sure keeping secrets was so hard on you all.” She laid a hand over her heart and gave them a sympathetic smile. “My sincerest apologies, truly.”
Rowan cleared her throat next to her—a warning.
Ember ignored it. She was itching for a fight, all of the sorrow and grief had settled in her core, slowly morphing into fire, burning through her veins and into her fingertips. She felt her magic pulse, heat building against her palms as she gripped the armrest of the chair.
“It’s no matter,” Helvig replied, as he brushed her off, like her apology had been sincere, “as long as everything is settled.”
“Settled?” Ember bristled. “My mother has spent my entire life lying to me, and you think a simple conversation will ‘settle’ it?”
Helvig cocked a brow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, like he was enjoying this—like he was entertained.
“Enough, Ember,” Aoife shot her a warning glance. “Drink your juice.”
Ember barked a laugh, throwing her head back as she grabbed the glass.
“Drink the juice?” she asked. “How can I even trust that this is actually juice, hm? Perhaps it’s poisoned, and your grand plan is to get rid of me in the middle of brunch.
” She slammed the glass on the table, orange juice sloshing across the wood.
She stood, causing Collum to stiffen, hand against the dagger that sat strapped to his belt.
Ember scoffed—some Vala he was, doesn’t even trust his own magic enough to not carry a weapon.
Rowan kicked her under the table, but she chose to ignore it.
“Maybe we should go for a walk,” Rowan whispered, grabbing her wrist, “to clear your head.”
Ember twisted it out of her grasp and slammed her fist on the table.
“No one is trying to poison you, Ember,” Aoife replied, a warning dripping in the words. “Sit down.”
“Perhaps we should have the Jarl try it first.” Ember grinned. “Just to be sure.”
“That will be quite enough of that,” Aoife hissed—another warning.
Ember grinned, but that grin faltered as Helvig barked a laugh.
“Now, now, Aoife,” he raised a hand in the air, “it’s to be expected that she would be upset, even hurt.
I won’t hold any baseless accusations against her.
” He talked about her like she wasn’t there—like her temper tantrum hadn’t affected him in the slightest. He turned his attention beside her, to Theo, and smiled.
“Perhaps we should take young Theo on a tour of the castle.” He smiled.
“After all, it will be his home soon.” His teeth sparkled against the midday sun beating through the windows, and Ember saw red.
“Over my dead bod—" she started to shout, but Rowan quickly stood up beside her, grabbing her arm and smiling at Helvig.
“That is a lovely idea,” she cooed. “I’ll do the honors.
Shall we start with the garden?” She dragged Ember away from the table, and Theo followed without missing a beat.
Ember stumbled as Rowan pushed her through the glass doors, her sweet smile never faltering as she pulled them into the large garden.
A maze of tall hedges sat in the middle; a large fountain lined with benches right in front of it.
Rowan gestured toward the maze and walked Ember and Theo into it.
“Let me go!” Ember hissed, yanking her arm free and rubbing the spot Rowan’s nail had dug into her skin. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Rowan whispered loudly, checking over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Apparently, I’m going for a walk,” Ember gestured to the hedges around her, “with my own little watchdog.” She was not pulling any punches, and she didn’t care who they landed on.
“If I didn’t get you out of there,” Rowan replied, “Collum was going to hang you from the chandelier by your toes.”
Ember rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you watching out for me.”
“Well, apparently, you do, Em,” Rowan replied, as she crossed her arms,
Ember stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”
“The more you push back, the worse it’s going to be,” Rowan replied. “They do not tolerate rebellion of any sort. They’ll have you locked in that dungeon too before they let you fight.”
“The dungeon?” Ember asked, furrowing her brow. “What do you know about the dungeon?”
“More than you think.”
“So, what do you want me to do then?” Ember asked, anger rumbling deep in her chest. “Just give up? Give them what they want and forget about Maeve or Theo or all of those kids locked up under our feet?”
“Of course that’s not what I want,” Rowan replied, as she rolled her eyes.
“I’m saying you have to be discreet. If we’re going to save them, Helvig and Collum and everyone else have to believe you’re on board with the idea—excited about it even.
It will be much easier to make plans without nosy lieutenants hovering over your shoulder.
If we want to win, you must make them think you’ve accepted your fate.
You have to make them believe you’ve resigned yourself to lose. ”
This wasn’t the girl she had fought in the crumbling building at the foot of the mountains. This wasn’t the hollow faced girl she had first seen in the foyer months ago. No, she was different. There was a new light in her eyes—something had shifted.
“He has other plans,” she replied. “He doesn’t just want to heal his magical core, not anymore. He wants control.” She sighed. “Control over everything.”
“I’m going to need you to be less vague,” Ember replied. “I don’t have all day.” She shifted her weight—the truth was she would rather be out there with Rowan than inside with everyone else.
“He believes the island is his birthright—that it was promised to his family, specifically by the gods when they settled the island.”
Ember remembered her mom saying something about that, but what did that have to do with her?
“He found a page in the Book of Shadows that would heal him, that much is true,” Rowan continued, “but he also found another page—not a spell so much as an old legend—instructions of sorts.”
“The prophecy,” Ember mumbled. She didn’t know how she knew; she just did.
Rowan nodded. “He isn’t content to just be back to full power anymore. He wants all the power, and he needs you to get it.”
“What do you mean by all?” Ember narrowed her eyes.
“All as in… more than the Vala and Merrow and Fae have combined. A power that would make him immortal.”
Like a god.
Ember felt a chill run down her spine. “What good am I to him?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t know,” Rowan replied. “I just know the Wildling he has now doesn’t have the power he needs. He’s gotten greedy and desperate—and desperate men with power are dangerous.”
Ember’s throat tightened. That woman in the dungeon—was she the other Wildling?
“Why are you telling me this?” Ember asked. “Why are you suddenly so keen on helping me? You didn’t seem to care what happened to me last year.”
Rowan averted her eyes. “I regret every decision I made leading up to the day in the ballroom,” she whispered, “but I do not, for even a moment, regret becoming your friend.”
“Well,” Ember replied, “that makes one of us.” She tried not to wince as she saw the way Rowan’s face fell. The girl was trying, but could she really blame Ember for not trusting her?
“A few months ago, Collum started receiving letters from someone. He was giving them inside information, but something spooked him.” Ember held her breath as she listened.
“He asked me to take the information he had gathered to the Jarl, but I read them instead. He was going to put so many people’s lives in danger, and I couldn’t let that happen. ”
“Who were the letters from?” Ember asked, interest suddenly piqued.
“I don’t know,” Rowan replied, as she shook her head.
“It was all anonymous. I don’t even know if they’re on the island.
But what I do know is that it was that moment I decided to stop being Helvig’s puppet.
I took over the letters, started writing back to them and feeding them information. I want to help.”
Ember wasn’t sure if she trusted her—wasn’t sure if she would ever trust her again.
Her throat tightened as she took a shaky breath.
“So, that’s all it took?” she asked, as she flexed her hand by her side.
“A few measly letters from an anonymous source and the possibility of strangers getting hurt? That’s what changed your mind?
Not the kidnapping of dozens of innocent children? ”
“I didn’t know he was kidnapping anyone,” Rowan bit back. “I’m not the monster you’ve made me out in your head to be, Ember.”
“You tried to kill me, Rowan.” Ember felt the lick of flames against her palms, magic crackling at her fingertips. “You could’ve killed Killian or Fen. So, you’ll have to forgive me for not giving a damn that you want to do the ‘right thing’ now.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill anyone,” Rowan replied. “I was trying to survive. By the time I realized what he was, it was too late. I was in too deep, and I had to protect my mum.”
Ember bit the inside of her cheek. “You could’ve told someone,” She whispered, resenting the emotion that bobbed in her throat. “Eira or Otto or Professor Bjorn.” She swallowed as she silently cursed the tears threatening to spill over. “You could’ve told me. We could’ve figured it out together.”
“I didn’t know who I could trust. I didn’t have anyone.” Rowan shook her head. “My mum lost herself in grief, my brother and dad were gone. I was alone, and Helvig was there.”
“You were never alone, Rowan.”
“My dad died,” Rowan began. “My dad died, and I—“
“So did mine,” Ember bit back, “but I didn’t decide to grieve him by hurting everyone who loved me.
You don’t get to play the ‘dead dad’ card, Rowan, not now, not with me.
” She could feel the magic rolling under her skin as Rowan hung her head.
“We were there,” she continued. “We were there, and you were just too blinded by power to see the family you still had. We could’ve helped you.
” Her chest ached, the wound she had so carefully stitched close now ripped open again, as raw as the day she received it.
“I can see that now,” Rowan nodded, cheeks flushed, “and I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to fix the damage I caused.”
“Some damage can’t be undone,” Ember replied. She wanted to hurt her, wanted her to feel just an ounce of what she had felt in that ballroom.
“How many times do I have to apologize?”
“I’ll let you know.” Ember shrugged. She had no intention of forgiving the girl or forgetting all the pain she had caused.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Rowan whispered. “I just want to help. I want to make things right.”
Theo grabbed Ember’s hand and looked up at her, then over to Rowan, tilting his head. She seemed to squirm under the weight of Theo’s stare until he looked back up at Ember.
“Second chance,” was all he signed before he turned back to Rowan and smiled, and Ember gave him a reluctant nod. She could try—that’s the best she could offer at this point.
“Thank you,” Rowan signed in reply, and Ember’s jaw hung slack.
“You know sign language?”
Rowan nodded her head, a far off look in her eyes. “My brother was deaf. I learned sign language before I could read.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, the memory, no doubt, tainted by the grief that surrounded her.
Theo squeezed Ember’s hand.
I’m here.
“So, if we do this together,” Ember replied, steeling herself against the weight of the moment between them, “and that is a big if, where do we start? While we try to figure out how to free the children, what are we supposed to do?”
Rowan let out a sigh as she bit her lip. “We pretend that they’ve won.”