Chapter 32 #2
“They like both,” I tell a serious-faced little girl named Sorcha, who appears to be wearing armour made of decorated cardboard. “But they’re very particular about the quality. Dragons have excellent taste.”
This leads to an intense debate about dragons that somehow encompasses everything from gemstone sparkliness to the proper way to polish armour. I find myself drawn into the conversation despite myself, charmed by their earnest curiosity and complete lack of fear.
When was the last time I talked to children?
They are usually kept away from court, and I now can’t even remember when I last saw a child.
And also, when was the last time anyone asked my opinion about dragons, or anything, because they thought I might know something interesting rather than because they were trying to extract strategic information?
The conversation flows around me, multiple discussions happening simultaneously with people jumping between topics as something catches their interest. There’s an easiness to it that I’ve never witnessed before, the kind of comfort that comes from people who know they belong.
After the meal, as people begin to disperse to various activities, a young man approaches me with obvious reluctance. He’s beautiful in the way vampires often are, but his brown eyes hold a wariness that speaks of hard experiences.
“You’re Dyfri,” he says without preamble.
“I am,” I confirm, immediately alert. “And you are?”
“Ned.” He glances back toward a group of children who are now engaged in some complex game involving a ball and much giggling. “Those are mine. Three of them.”
I follow his gaze and feel something warm settle in my chest at the sight of children playing.
“So, I have a vested interest in what you are planning,” he says. “I don’t want my children to grow up enslaved by the fey.”
My heart picks up pace, but it is fine. These people are clearly Laurie and Selwyn’s. I don’t need to deny anything.
“I know things,” Ned continues, drawing my attention back to him. “About magic. Old magic, the kind your people might not know about.”
My attention sharpens. Information from unexpected sources has proven invaluable before. “What sort of things?”
“There’s a standing stone.” His voice is carefully neutral, but I can sense the importance he places on his words. “It’s sacred to vampires. We fought for the right to possess the territory, back when the fey didn’t own everything.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t understand the full magic technicalities of it, but the standing stone is a key. A lynchpin. A stabiliser.” His brown eyes meet mine steadily. “If you want to destroy all the portals at once, you need it.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Another piece of the puzzle, offered freely by someone who has every reason to distrust my intentions. The standing stone he’s describing sounds like exactly what we need to anchor the spell Ninian was explaining.
“Thank you,” I manage, meaning it more than he could possibly know. “This information could be crucial.”
Ned nods curtly, then calls to his children. “Come on, kids. Time to help with the washing up.”
As he walks away, I’m left staring after him, my mind already racing through the implications. Another variable to factor into our plans, another element that could make the difference between success and catastrophic failure.
“So that’s why you brought me here,” I say to Laurie, who’s appeared beside me with his usual silent grace.
Laurie blushes, colour spreading prettily across his cheekbones. “Partly,” he admits. “But mostly because...” He trails off, suddenly fascinated by his boots.
“Because?”
“Selwyn and I intend to live here,” he says in a rush, the words tumbling over each other.
“After everything is finished, when the portals are sealed and the world is safe. We want to be part of this family. To make a home here with my brother.” He looks up at me, vulnerability clear in his blue eyes.
“We were wondering if you would like to live here too.”
The question hits me with unexpected force.
I look around the room, still warm with the lingering presence of so many people who’ve chosen to build something good together.
The easy acceptance, the way those children demanded stories about dragons instead of cowering in fear.
The way Ned offered crucial information without demanding anything in return.
I think about Jack’s promise that we can save the world and then fall in love. The possibility that there might be a place for us where we don’t have to hide or fight or constantly watch our backs.
“I’m honoured that you would ask,” I tell Laurie, and I mean it. “Truly honoured.”
His face lights up with hope, but I hold up a hand before he can respond.
“But first we have to succeed,” I say sternly.
“Of course,” Laurie says quickly. “I just... I wanted you to know that the offer is there. That you have options.” He reaches out to touch my arm gently. “You don’t have to face the future alone.”
The simple kindness in his words nearly undoes me. After a lifetime of isolation, of trusting no one and depending only on myself, the idea that I might have a family, a chosen family, waiting for me is almost too much to process.
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice shaking for more than I would like.
As we prepare to leave, Laurie calling for his dire wolf and gathering thanks and promises to visit again soon, I find myself looking back at the transformed manor house with something I’ve never felt before.
Hope.
A place where I can stay on Earth, with Jack, and not put him in constant danger by my simple existence. Humans who hate fey, wouldn’t hurt him getting to me if they couldn’t find me. And they wouldn’t be able to find me here. This place is warded by a powerful demon.
We could hide here. We could be safe here.
Hope.
Not just for survival, but for something more. For the possibility that there might be a place in this world where I can simply be myself, without masks or careful calculations or the constant weight of political manoeuvring.
A place where Jack and I can build something good together, surrounded by people who choose to care about each other. Where children ask about dragon preferences and vampires share crucial intelligence because it’s the right thing to do.
The portal back to London shimmers to life under my hands, but for the first time in my life, I’m reluctant to leave a place behind.
“Ready?” Laurie asks, already stepping toward the doorway.
“Ready,” I tell him, but as I follow him back to his art studio, I’m already planning my next visit.
Because for the first time, I have something to look forward to after the war is won.