Chapter 9 #2
Gavin stood behind her, looking at the chart, and noted how her slender shoulders hunched in exhaustion. They’d made progress this morning. Real progress.
“Then that’s where we hit them,” he said quietly.
Her head turned, her gaze catching his. “We?”
The soft question twisted something deep inside him. He nodded once.
“We,” he confirmed.
Her lips parted on a soft breath, as if that single word was worth more than all the promises he’d made before. He found himself mesmerized by her, wanting to move closer.
But the mood was broken when the office phone rang, sharp against the quiet. Gavin grabbed the handset before the second ring could echo.
“Hello.”
“Gavin? It’s Claudia.” The voice on the other end was clear and cool. “Sam asked me to swing by and check in. I’ve got lunch with me, so don’t argue.”
His gaze flicked to Marigold, who had gone still at the interruption. “What’s the real reason?” Gavin asked flatly, though he already knew.
“Sam wants me to take a magical look at your guest. Make sure she’s not carrying anything dangerous. Wards, bindings, traces of Venifucus corruption. Anything that could put you or the Clan at risk.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like anyone else poking at what was his to guard. But logic overruled instinct. They couldn’t afford to take chances. Not with the Rollins. Not with Marigold.
“Fine,” he said. “But tread carefully. She’s been through enough already.”
“I know,” Claudia replied. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Try not to growl at me when I walk in the door.”
The line went dead.
Gavin set the phone back in its cradle, his jaw tight. Across the desk, Marigold’s eyes were wide, her hands clutching the edge of her chair.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice thin.
“Lunch delivery,” Gavin said evenly. He gave her a long, steady look. “And a test. Claudia’s a mage. Sam asked her to check you out, to make sure you’re safe for the Clan to be around.”
Marigold’s face drained of color. She opened her mouth, then shut it again, looking suddenly very small in the big chair. He pushed off the desk and crouched beside her, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Goldie, this isn’t about hurting you. It’s about keeping everyone safe. Including you. Claudia is not a Rollins. She’s one of Granny Tucker’s best. We can trust her.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “What if she finds something? What if they put something on me that I don’t even know about?”
Gavin’s hand closed gently but firmly over hers. “Then we deal with it. Together. You’re not facing this alone.”
“All right,” she whispered.
Gavin squeezed her hand once, then rose to his feet. “Good. Now let’s clean up a bit before Claudia shows up.”
By the time the knock came at the door, Marigold’s palms were damp. She sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, hands clenched in her lap, her stomach tying itself into knots, despite Gavin’s efforts to calm her.
She wanted to be brave. She’d told Gavin she was ready to fight, ready to stand against the Rollins dynasty. But the idea of another mage—someone powerful, trained, and trusted by others—turning her attention on Marigold made every old fear come rushing back.
“Stay here,” Gavin said gently as he went to the door.
She flinched when the door opened, and a woman strode in, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a leather satchel slung across the other shoulder.
She was striking in a quiet, no-nonsense way.
She was tall and strong-boned, her dark hair pulled back, her eyes sharp as polished steel.
The air seemed to hum faintly around her, a low buzz that set Marigold’s skin tingling even from across the room.
“Lunch,” Claudia announced briskly, setting the bag on the counter. Then her gaze shifted to Marigold, assessing, weighing. “And business.”
Marigold’s throat went dry.
“Easy,” Gavin murmured, his hand brushing lightly across Marigold’s shoulder as he passed. The brief touch anchored her, kept her from bolting.
Claudia approached without hesitation. She stopped a few feet away, her expression neutral, her presence controlled.
But Marigold could feel the magic. It rolled off her in steady waves, disciplined and refined in a way the Rollinses never were.
The Rollinses’ magic always felt sharp, greedy, invasive and turbulent.
Claudia’s was clean and orderly. Strong, but tempered.
“May I?” Claudia asked, her tone even.
Marigold managed a small nod.
Claudia lifted one hand, palm open. A gentle warmth spread across Marigold’s skin, like the brush of sunlight through a windowpane.
Then the tingle began. Subtle at first, prickling along her arms, then deeper, weaving into the places where her own magic had always been locked away.
She gasped softly, unable to stop it. Claudia’s eyes narrowed, not in malice but in concentration.
“Layers,” she murmured. “Old bindings. Trauma-wrought. Scars.” Her gaze softened. “You’ve been used and abused, haven’t you?”
Marigold’s chest clenched, shame and fury warring inside her. She wanted to deny it, to hide, but Gavin was there, silent and solid at her side, and Claudia’s voice wasn’t cruel. It was sad and understanding.
The warmth deepened, moving like a tide through her veins. Marigold’s skin prickled all over, a tingle that felt both invasive and oddly freeing. When Claudia finally lowered her hand, Marigold realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a shaky rush, clutching her knees.
“Well?” Gavin demanded, his voice edged with growl.
Claudia met his gaze, then looked back at Marigold. “She’s clear. No Venifucus mark, no active wards. Whatever they did to her, it was brutal, but it didn’t bind her to them. She’s safe for you to be around, and for the Clan to protect.”
Marigold’s vision blurred with sudden tears. Relief crashed over her in dizzying waves.