Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
FINNIAN - THE GHOST
T orin cradles the girl like she’s some delicate thing, his muscled arms bulging as he lifts her effortlessly from the snow. Her head lolls against his shoulder, a faint streak of blood painting her cheek like some tragic war paint. The blood moon bathes the forest in a crimson hue, casting long shadows that dance around us as we head back to the realm. I fall into step beside Kael, my mind churning.
“This is a bad idea,” I say, my voice low so Torin doesn’t hear. “Bringing her back. She’s a danger, Kael. And while even I can’t deny how... intoxicating she is, we don’t know what she is. Or what she’s capable of.”
Kael glances at me, his sharp profile unreadable. His suit, somehow untouched by the night’s chaos, reflects the faint moonlight. “Your point is valid,” he says, his tone clipped. “But we don’t have a choice. If we leave her here, she’ll start hunting again. And next time, it might not be some nameless warlocks who fall to her. ”
I snort, watching as Torin adjusts the girl, her unconscious form limp against his chest. “We could kill her,” I suggest.
Kael pauses for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening. For a moment, I think he might agree, but then he shakes his head. “We need to know what she is. How she’s been able to attack us. We learn everything we can—then we decide.”
Torin grins, his voice cutting through the tension. “Play with her first, then kill her.”
I shoot him a look, one brow raised. “For you, those two things are usually the same.”
Torin laughs, that low, unhinged sound that always grates on my nerves. “Not my fault women break so easily.”
Kael’s mouth twitches, the barest hint of a smile. “Everything breaks easily when it comes to you, Reaper.”
Torin’s grin widens as he looks down at the girl. He strokes a strand of her hair, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Not this one, though. She’s different.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. Is he getting attached? Worse, am I? My fingers twitch, longing to roll the cool silver of my ring between them as a distraction.
We cross into our realm, the barrier rippling like water before settling behind us. The Keep looms ahead, its jagged silhouette blending into the snow-draped cliffs. Torin strides ahead, carrying the girl like some grotesque prize.
“She goes to the dungeons,” I say, my tone brooking no argument.
Kael shakes his head. “No. If we can feel her energy signature, so can others. If we leave her in the dungeons, she’ll never make it until morning. She stays with us.”
Torin’s grin turns wolfish. “She can sleep in my room, then. I’ll keep her warm.”
I notice him lift one of her limp fingers to his mouth, his tongue flicking over the tip before sucking it gently. “Quit it,” I snap, shoving his shoulder. “She’s not some plaything for you.”
Kael’s gaze hardens. “She stays close. My quarters will suffice. I’ll keep her under surveillance.”
I cross my arms. “Your quarters? The ones that see more visitors than anyone else’s? We need to keep her away from prying eyes, not display her like some trophy.”
Kael narrows his eyes at me. “You have a better suggestion?”
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “There are hidden quarters off mine. No one will find her there.”
Kael’s brow lifts, and he studies me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. “Hidden quarters? Of course, you’d have those.”
“Insurance,” I reply with a smirk. “In case of intruders.”
I'd rather not share their existence, but I can always build another.
Kael nods, conceding the point. “Very well.”
Torin groans. “We’re really not going to have any fun tonight, are we?”
“Not with her,” I say sharply, leading the way toward my chambers. “Follow me.”
The halls of the Keep are eerily silent, save for the echo of our boots on the stone floor. My quarters are tucked away on the far side, away from the prying eyes and constant comings and goings of the main hall. Torin whistles low as we step inside, the polished stone floors reflecting the warm light from the sconces .
“Clean, as always,” he says, his tone mocking. “You could benefit from some chaos, brother.”
“And you could benefit from cleaning your damn quarters once in a while,” I shoot back, lighting a fire with a flick of my fingers. The flames burst to life, casting a golden glow across the room. Unlike Torin’s chaotic mess or Kael’s austere elegance, my space is precise, orderly. A reflection of myself—or so I’d like to think.
The room is a study in control. Dark stone walls are softened by rich, dark green tapestries embroidered with silver accents, each depicting scenes of ancient battles or symbolic representations of the Sabers' strength. A massive oak desk sits in the corner, its surface polished to a gleaming shine, with neatly arranged papers, quills, and a single, slender silver dagger resting atop it—more decorative than functional, though it’s sharp enough to kill.
Bookshelves line one wall, filled with tomes of strategy, lore, and a few personal indulgences in fiction, each spine meticulously aligned. Opposite the shelves is a sitting area with a low black leather sofa and two matching chairs, all framing a glass coffee table with a single silver candleholder in its center. A decanter of whiskey and a pair of crystal glasses sit on a side table next to one of the chairs, untouched but ready.
The bed is tucked into an alcove on the far side of the room, its dark, forest-green blankets pulled taut, accented by black and silver pillows. A sleek chest at its foot holds spare clothing and weapons. A large, arched window is draped with heavy curtains, keeping out the cold and the prying eyes of the outside world, though the faintest glow of moonlight sneaks through the cracks.
Everything has its place, nothing out of line. It’s not sterile—it has warmth, a quiet luxury—but it’s clear that no chaos lives here. Only order .
Torin just grins, unbothered by the jab, as we head toward the hidden passage at the back. I push open the heavy stone door, revealing a narrow staircase that leads down to the concealed quarters I’d built years ago.
The room is sparse but functional, with a sturdy bed, a small table, and a fireplace. I flick my fingers again, and the fire roars to life. The warmth fills the space, chasing away the chill that clings to us from the forest. As I glance around, an idea strikes me, and I channel a sliver of power into the room, subtly altering it. The bedding softens, the furniture takes on a more welcoming appearance. Torin notices immediately.
“Thought you didn’t like her,” he drawls, his grin sharpening. “Getting cozy, Finn?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, not entirely comfortable with why I just did what I did. “Put her on the bed.”
Torin obliges, laying her down with surprising gentleness. But then, of course, he tries to climb onto it with her.
“Off,” I bark, and he pouts like a chastised child.
“What are we even going to do with her?” he grumbles, crossing his arms.
“Lock her in,” I say, my tone final. “I’ll shield her with my magic tonight. You’re free to do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t involve her.”
Torin huffs but eventually saunters off, leaving me alone in the room with the girl. I stand there for a moment, watching the firelight dance across her pale skin. She’s a danger, I remind myself. A liability. But even as I think it, my fingers twist the silver ring on my hand, and memories I’d rather forget claw their way to the surface.
“Never again,” I murmur to myself, turning away. But as I step out of the room, I can’t shake the feeling that keeping her here might be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.