Chapter 23 #3
I narrowed my eyes. “There is no such thing as a free lunch. I saw the five Westwater Intentions.” I poked the air in her direction. “You want me in your family and are using every tool you’ve got to convince me to stay.”
“Damn right we want you.” Ravana slapped her leg. “Everyone wants you. But you? You’re the only guest rude enough to turn down hospitality just because you might actually like it.”
I bit my lips together. The tethers in my lower back ached, like they always did when the past came to haunt me.
‘Every home begins as a stranger’s walls.
Let me make these yours.’ Gandalf’s voice haunted me.
I’d let him take care of me, just like I’d joined the druid’s followers as they danced under the full moon.
I’d let that happen to me. Instead of confronting my emotions, I’d run.
Teivel was real and was forcing the families to test my free will. I couldn’t escape this time.
My gaze flicked to Ezra, studying each newcomer like an enemy. His plum-purple hair—his freedom—was gone, his swords hidden in my tent. Stripped of everything that made him untouchable, he’d still come for me. Love stabbed so sharp it hurt.
I could escape. With a thought, I could teleport out of here… but I’d finally found something worth fighting for.
“Fucking hell, Quinn. Think any harder, and I’ll get a headache.” Ravana threw her hands up in the air. “You’d be absolute garbage in a pit fight. I can see you flipping over insults now to see if they were valid instead of hurling them back at your opponent.”
Brit giggled.
I snorted. “You’re not wrong.”
“We. Are. Celebrating!” Ravana punctuated each word with a pop of her hip.
I stood. “What are we celebrating?”
Ravana took my hand, guided it above my head, and spun me.
“Dalila, my niece, got her first cycle today.” Ravana winked.
The blood drained from my face; it worked. My shock turned into something warmer.
Brit leaped into the air with a whoop. “Fuck yesss.”
The two danced, then each grabbed an arm and pulled me into the throng, where bottles of fermented plum passed hand to hand. Harsh liquor burned, making me cough.
A Westwater clapped me on the back. “Good stuff, eh? Georgia brews it. Better than fightin’.” Thankfully, he wandered off without noticing Ezra seconds away from breaking his arm.
The shadow mage took the bottle from me, drank deep, and passed it on.
Music sprang to life. A drum thumped along with wailing guitars amplified through billows.
The doors burst open, and the room flooded with Westwaters.
I was swept into a line of dancers. I had no clue what the steps were, just like at Xan’s Mixer, but the chaos, the laughter, the pulse of it all sent my blood racing.
To my surprise, Ezra took my hand. “Everything’s in eights,” Ezra murmured, lifting his palm for me to mirror. His hand lingered close to mine, steady and sure, guiding me through the chaos.
Last time, Ezra had pushed me toward strangers.
Tonight, he stayed at my side, steady as the music, no matter how the dance tossed us.
I stumbled over feet, mine and everyone else’s, as the room pulsed with its own life.
The dances spun me from one laughing partner to the next, but I always ended up back with Ezra, steady and sure, knowing every step by heart.
Dalila, still decked out in her goth attire with pigtails, found me and gave me a massive hug. “Thank you!”
Before she could say more, the throng of people now packed into Ravana's room swallowed her back up.
Flushed and a little drunk, Ezra guided me toward the exit.
Silas leaned against the door, blocking us. “Don’t mess this up.” He crossed his arms over his chest with a bottle gripped in his meaty fist. “In two days, she takes her first ‘free will’ test. I won’t give you up, but I won’t defend you either.”
Ezra raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you're talking about. I’m just a cousin.”
Silas raised a bottle and took a sip before passing it to Ezra.
“Then, cousin.” Silas slid out of our way. “Enjoy the party.” He looked at me. “A pleasure as always.”
We slipped into the hall and out a side entrance, only to find small groups of others who shared our need for fresh air. We made ourselves a spot, and I leaned against the cool stone building.
“How did you know all those dances?” I asked.
Ezra joined me and looked up at the sky. A few stars peeked out between clouds, reflecting light from the half-moon. It reminded me of being in the forest, alone, dancing to my imaginary music. Only this time, everything had been the exact opposite.
I slipped my hand into Ezra’s, needing the anchor.
“I grew up on a farm in the highlands. Sheep, a few crops. Hard work, but good. My family laughed more than we cried. My brothers and I fought and got each other into trouble. My mother had patience for all of us, and my father, he had a belt, but even that was love.”
I squeezed his hand, soaking in the rare softness in his voice.
He swallowed. “We’d meet with neighbors a few times a year for a ceilidh. Dancing, music, food. I was twelve the last time. I thought they came for another dance. I smiled when I opened the door.”
My chest pinched, the warmth of his memories colliding with dread.
“But they didn’t come to dance this time.” His jaw worked. “They took who they could. Killed the rest.”
I pressed myself against his side, his arm falling heavy and protective over me.
“I spent four years on their farm, serving the same people who murdered my family. When we tried to escape, they slit my oldest brother’s throat. Right in front of us.” His voice cracked. “I could kill pigs and sheep, but watching my brother bleed out—someone I loved—something inside me broke.”
I clung tighter. “It would’ve broken anyone.”
He drew a ragged breath. “Xan’s the only one I’ve told. He says I’m not broken.”
“You’re not,” I whispered, feeling every tear of my tattered existence. “Everyone’s cracked. It’s the pieces we carry that make us who we are.” Rachel, my old therapist, would be so proud of me for repeating her words. Not just repeating them, but believing them.
His gaze met mine, eyes dark with grief. “Two years later, I was the only one left. I didn’t run again. My Majekah had bloomed. I walked into their shadows and slit their throats, one by one. Like they did to us.”
I swallowed hard. He said it so flatly, so calmly, but the weight of it crushed me. I pressed closer anyway.
“I couldn’t go back to farming. Anger was all I had. Dead bodies, freed slaves who feared me. The gangs in the tunnels took me in, because anger fit there.” His mouth twisted. “Until I met Xan. And the rest, you know.”
I brushed my hand down his thigh, grounding us both. “Tonight you cut your hair, remembered ceilidh steps, and relived blood and loss. No wonder you feel like a leaf in the wind.”
Ezra gave a low, pained grunt. “Yes. I prefer a blank future. The past is a bog I can’t escape.”
“You can’t change it,” I said. “But you chose what you remember. My dad actually did a lot of things very wrong, but he wasn’t trying to hurt me. I love my memories of him. You don’t need to erase everything, right?”
Ezra drew me close. “Maybe. Or maybe I need your light if I’m ever going to make new memories. Teaching you to dance tonight mattered more than I thought it would.”
I giggled. “I’m not sure if I actually learned much, but I enjoyed it too.”
Someone walked past us and stumbled. Ezra put his arm out to keep the body from hitting me.
“Sorry.” The woman turned to me, and her cream eyes lit. “You’re Quinn, right?”
“Ah, yeah, great party,” I said.
She tried to take a step closer, but Ezra didn’t budge. She ended up resting her hands on Ezra’s strong arm like it was a wall.
“Dalila said you are the reason she cycled. Can, you, um.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “Can you fix me too?”
My heart sank. In the dark, I couldn’t tell how old the woman was or anything about her. “You’re not broken.”
She jerked back.
“Go have another drink,” Ezra pushed her away from me.
The woman mumbled something and stumbled back the way she had come.
The world faded into the background as the reality of why this impromptu party was even happening settled onto my shoulders.
Broken. I’d just told Ezra broken wasn’t wrong. Yet here, the instant Brit knew she could have children, she wanted one, and the whole room celebrated fertility.
My Majekah destroyed. It dismantled anything unnatural and returned it to its components. A woman wasn’t broken because she couldn’t have kids, but fertility was an undeniable part of our biology. Something unnatural had taken root inside us, and my magic broke it down.
Everyone deserved to make their own choice.
I hadn’t realized I started shaking until Ezra pulled me into his arms.
“Focus on passing the tests.” His chest rumbled against me. “We’ll figure out what comes next together.”
I took a deep breath and squeezed him back. If this was true, I could help, maybe even change the balance of power between men and women.