Chapter 3
The next morning, I awoke with a scream as a torrential downpour of ice water landed on my face. I sat up, startled by a wisp of a woman standing over me with a now empty bucket. Her blonde hair was tied back, piercing eyes staring down at me as she scowled. Jasper’s scream came next as she reached down for a second bucket I had not seen and threw it over his sleeping body lying draped over my sofa.
“Fucking hell, Rowena!” he cursed, wiping the water away as though it would disappear.
“I’ve had it with you,” she growled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Jasper’s face. “You were supposed to snap him out of this shit. And you,” she said, turning toward me with bared fangs. “What good are you doing, getting drunk in your room day in and day out, huh? How is that helping the situation?”
I blinked, attempting to clear the hangover dragging me back down. My sister gave me a headache on the best days, and today was certainly not my best. She was a formidable force—a tornado constantly tearing through the wreckage of my life from the moment she was born.
Rowena was seventy-five years my junior. As the baby of the family and the only girl, she was naturally spoiled by those around her, including myself. I remembered the day she was born, staring at the world in wonder as she wrapped her fragile fist around my finger. From that moment, I was a goner. The worst part? As she grew older, she realized how much sway she had over me. While she never abused that privilege outright, she did take advantage of it from time to time.
I put myself in our mother’s path so Rowena could live freely. One of us needed to follow in the family’s political footsteps. As someone who had already been jaded by that role by the time she had been born, I accepted my fate. Even as she grew older, she had never expressed interest—choosing to spend her time doodling in notebooks and writing poetry.
Her soul was too beautiful to be tainted by the harsh realities of our world.
She crossed her arms, quirking an eyebrow as her gaze flitted between us. “Our mother is gone. In any other situation, I would say ‘good riddance,’ but I can’t because who knows what she is doing out there while you have holed yourself up in this disgusting room,” she paused, taking another look at my surroundings. “Seriously, Rion. It smells like a distillery in here, and not the good kind.”
“There’s a good kind?” Jasper asked, earning a scathing glare from my sister.
Liquor bottles littered the ground, some from last night and others from the nights before. My rumpled sheets were still untouched from the last time I held her in my arms. I had taken to sleeping on the sofa or the armchair. One night, I even slept on the floor, too exhausted and drunk to pull myself up.
“Enough is freaking enough, okay? I know you’re grieving—we all are.” Her eyes softened, rimmed lightly with silver as she blew out a breath. “I know I barely knew her, but even I saw the pull between you. But do you think this is how she would want you to live? Drinking yourself away like you are? Honestly, I’m ashamed of you, Rion.” She continued for five minutes before she lost wind, looking exasperatedly between Jasper and I as we reclined back on the sofa without interrupting her. “And now you’re looking at me like I’ve grown three heads and am blowing fire out of my ass.”
Jasper smirked, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “Now that’d be something I’d like to see.”
My sister blushed, and I raised my hand to slap Jasper on the back of his head. “Watch it, fucker,” I growled.
He chuckled, ducking his head slightly as the blow came down. “What? I love it when she goes full rage monster like this. It’s like watching a kitten threaten a dragon.” He shrugged, smiling. “And you’re about twelve hours too late, little kitten. I gave the grump a pep talk last night. Even came up with a plan of action that might give us some answers.”
Rowena’s mouth slackened ever so slightly before she snapped it shut. “And you couldn’t have told me that sooner?”
“Nope,” Jasper said, popping the ‘p’ and smiling as he noticed the twitch of Rowena’s eye.
She let out a feral growl, preparing to tear into him before I intervened. “Alright, enough. The two of you are giving me a migraine,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose to ease the ache blooming there. In truth, I was not sure if it was from their bickering or the massive hangover I was sporting. Either way, it sure as shit was not helping matters.
“Then what’s the plan?” she asked, sitting before us. Her scowl was still there, but softened as she studied me.
Seeing her look at me with pity was almost more than I could handle. Growing up, I had always been the one who put on a brave face for her. She was young when our father died, but he had been her world. His loss had been devastating to me, but it was world-shattering for her. I had to be her strength when she needed it, always there to lift her up when she was down. But now, I was nothing but a brittle, empty shell before her. I had no strength to give—it took everything I had to continue living.
As if reading my mind, she reached over and placed her hand over mine. “Allow me to return the favor, brother,” she said softly, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Allow me to help carry this weight for you until you can stand alone.”
“I’ve been trying to get that through his thick skull for days,” Jasper muttered, though no venom was left behind his words.
My stomach roiled at the thought of them worrying for me, even though there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I had never been left alone since Calia died, and I knew the kind of concern they had for me took a toll. Yet, they did it without complaint or expectation of anything in return.
I sought to find the words, but nothing felt like enough. Nothing I could say would adequately express my gratitude, but actions were another matter. I could show them my appreciation by not letting their concern go to waste.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Neither spoke, but I could see a spark of hope in their gazes that I might be okay. That we would be okay.
After a beat of silence, Rowena cleared her throat and repeated her words from earlier. “So, tell me this grand plan.”
Jasper and I spared each other a glance. There was no plan—not really. Following through with any course of action was more for my own revenge than the benefit of anyone else. Calia was gone. The curse could not be broken. Perhaps my mother had given up, escaping into the night before I turned the full force of my fury on her.
But I would not allow my mother a moment of rest, not when her actions and selfishness had driven the woman I loved to disastrous choices.
“Okay, I don’t know how ‘grand’ it is,” Jasper said slowly, suddenly looking sheepish. “But your mother is gone. I’ve had men searching all over Kallistos, the best money can buy and the only ones I trust. They haven’t found a single trace of her anywhere. It’s like she vanished.”
“Okay…”
“And the Vail has been silent since their last attack. I’ve been looking for them, too. I don’t know if it’s because Castor’s in mourning, or perhaps he was able to get their ranks under control,” he added, shaking his head. “Their involvement never made sense. Why would he send them for Calia when he was right there the whole time?”
“Wouldn’t that have been too obvious?” Rowena asked. “I mean, he was against the marriage from the start, but he couldn’t just take her.”
“I don’t know. There’s little to no information on them. Any references to the Vail in texts must be in their libraries to stop it from falling into the wrong hands—aka us. But Calia had mentioned they wanted her alive. They’d said as much when they got her in that van. In a fucked up way, maybe the Vail was Castor’s way of keeping his hands clean.”
My fingers dug into my palms at the memory of seeing Calia’s broken and beaten body when I freed her from the confines of that vehicle. I had risked everything to get to her, ignoring the sting of sunlight and the smell of burning flesh as I pulled at jagged metal doors.
“Then I thought of the curse,” I added bitterly, changing the subject. “Mother said something that night that stood out—about a descendant of the sorceress still being alive. Calia had tried getting more out of her, but she’d cut her off and refused to say more.”
Rowena tapped her manicured fingers against her arm. “I didn’t pay that much attention during our mother’s lectures, but I wasn’t aware that there was a descendant? No one even knows the original witch’s name, do they?”
I shook my head. “There is no written record of it. Not that I could find, at least. From Calix Darrow’s testament, she never gave her name, and when she left, it was as though her form slipped away on the wind.” I was unsure how much I believed in the old legend, but according to the generations that passed down the story, it always remained the same. “Those secrets were likely held in the old palace before it was destroyed. If by chance any records do exist… Well, they are in a place no one knows about.”
“Where does that leave us?” Rowena asked.
“There is only one place we thought might hold some answers,” I said, Jasper and I sharing a worried glance.
“And?” Rowena pressed, leaning forward. “Where is it?”
“Well, it isn’t a where exactly…” Jasper said slowly.
“It is a who,” I finished for him, my lips grimacing.
“Just tell me, dammit.”
“We need to pay a visit to the covens.”