Chapter Twenty-One
Connor
As a boy, Connor had roamed the valley forests, barefoot and wild, racing the deerhounds through underbrush and moonlit glades.
He’d hunted here as a teenager with his father, learned the wind’s language, learned how to stand still enough that even the birds forgot he existed.
But the forest that surrounded Glengáill on the way to Adrian’s home was no forest he knew.
Quiet and watchful, its secrets no longer out in the open but hidden beneath moss and gorse.
The cold clung to him like a second skin as he led Adrian back toward the fort path. Connor barely noted anything beyond Adrian’s breathing and the memory of the mark burning under his skin.
The echo of Adrian’s words haunted him.
It’s me they want.
Connor’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. He didn’t even realise his hand was still wrapped around Adrian’s wrist until the other man spoke softly beside him.
“You can let go.” Adrian cast him an amused look. “Unless you intend to drag me the entire way back.”
Connor released him abruptly, his pulse hammering with something he refused to examine too deeply. Adrian rubbed the spot absently, the gesture making Connor want to grab him again, shield him again, hide him behind stone walls and iron doors where no Nightwrought could ever reach him.
But that wasn’t possible. Not with the mark burning brighter by the hour. Not with the Council’s whispers lingering in the air like a scent wolves couldn’t shake.
Connor inhaled, slow and deep, grounding himself. “Are you stable?”
Adrian rolled his eyes slowly. “I’m not going to faint dramatically into your arms if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Adrian paused long enough to look at him properly. “Then yes. I’m stable.”
Something was changing him. The Council’s mark wasn’t only a signal. It was a hand closing slowly around Adrian’s soul. Connor’s wolf snarled at the thought.
He crossed the rest of the distance in silence with Adrian beside him, their steps falling into an unconscious synchronicity.
Back at Fort Ardlebury, the clan had gathered in the entrance hall before they even stepped inside. The air was thick with panic, voices rising in frantic gasps.
“My son swears he heard whispering under the floorboards.”
“Are they coming?”
“We must leave the valley.”
“Adrian has to do something.”
Adrian’s voice came out sharper than intended. “Enough.”
The word cracked through the air like a whip. People flinched.
Moira stepped forward out of the crowd, her silver braid swinging. “Lad, what happened? We were worried about you.”
Adrian raised a hand to quieten the crowd. “We found evidence of the Council’s interference,” he said. “We’re working on a plan.”
Moira’s gaze darted to Connor, who lingered at Adrian’s shoulder like a long shadow. She frowned at the mark glowing faintly beneath Adrian’s collar. It remained barely visible, but Connor could tell she saw everything. Then she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. She wouldn’t reveal anything.
Her acquiescence seemed to loosen Adrian’s chest a fraction. Fraser began herding people back, murmuring assurances Adrian didn’t feel ready to give.
Connor turned to Adrian. “You’re coming back to the castle with me.”
Adrian raised a brow. “Why?”
“I’d like to keep an eye on you.”
Adrian’s lips twitched. “You don’t get to keep me under house arrest like some trembling damsel.”
Connor’s voice dropped so low Adrian stilled. “You almost collapsed in the woods. You saw things none of us could see. You heard them speaking through you. If you think I’m letting you sleep unguarded in this fort of yours—”
“Guarded?” Adrian interrupted, a sharp, humourless laugh escaping him. “Connor, the Council marked me. Their hunters follow me. The whole woods reshapes itself around me. Anyone near me is in more danger than if I slept alone.”
“Then I’ll stay near you.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Adrian stared at him. Connor didn’t take them back.
The moment stretched long enough for Fraser to clear his throat loudly. “Right,” Fraser muttered. “Well. If you two are done staring at each other like a pair of doomed lovers in a tragic ballad, we have other matters to—”
Connor bared his teeth as Adrian flushed scarlet. “Fraser,” Connor warned.
Fraser lifted his hands, amused and unrepentant. Connor grabbed Adrian’s elbow, not roughly, but firmly, and steered him toward the private study.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“That,” Adrian murmured, “is never a comforting phrase.”
The study was dim when Connor closed the door behind them. Someone had started a fire, which crackled low. Shadows stretched long across the stone walls, almost alive. Connor hovered in the centre of the room, not sitting, not pacing, caught in a restless stillness.
“You’re getting worse,” Connor said.
Adrian flinched. “It’s manageable.”
“Liar.”
Adrian’s head lifted sharply. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Connor moved closer. “You’re shaking. You’re pale. You nearly passed out when the Council whispered through you. And that mark is spreading.”
Adrian stiffened. “You noticed that?”
“Of course I did.”
Adrian exhaled. “Xiathen says the mark is anchoring. That it’s…sinking in.”
“Sinking in?” Connor echoed. “Like poison?”
“Like a hook,” Adrian corrected softly. “The Council is pulling on it. Testing the tether.”
“Then we cut the fucking tether.”
Adrian let out a humourless laugh. “Connor, you can’t simply hack away ancient magic like it’s a fence post.”
“Watch me.”
Adrian stepped closer. “Please, listen to me. The Council doesn’t fear brute strength. Xiathen told me they built the Veiled Path out of the bones of fallen members of the Council of Veils to make the lure stronger. They—”
“I don’t care,” Connor snapped. “They touched you. They hurt you. That’s enough for me.”
Adrian stared at him, his mouth slightly parted, his breath unsteady. Connor felt something shifting between them—dangerous, hot, magnetic.
But before either of them could speak, a scream tore through the castle—high, distorted, layered with something inhuman.
Connor’s body moved before thought did. He ripped the door open, sprinting down the corridor. Adrian was a shadow at his heels.
Jasmine huddled in the main hall, her face blanched with terror, pointing a shaking hand upward. Connor followed her gaze. And froze.
On the ceiling, pressing against the stone like a stain of living smoke, a Nightwrought crouched upside down. Its eyes were blank white holes staring directly at Adrian.
The Nightwrought whispered—not aloud, but into the marrow of every bone in the room—Valour. Marked. The Council summons.
Before Connor could move, Adrian didn’t hesitate. He lunged, his silver dagger raised, ready to strike. “You’re in my territory now. I’m not letting you hurt my people,” he snarled.
Silver met darkness and the creature hissed, convulsing into a smear of shadow that streaked across the ceiling and vanished into the cracks between stones as if dissolving into the castle itself.
Connor drew in a sharp breath. “That was some move,” he muttered, pride thick in his voice.
Adrian’s fury was cold and sharp. “They will not come here and threaten us,” he said, his voice low, steady, lethal.
“I will fight before they open that rend. Before they drag me away. Before they take one more soul.” His eyes darkened to something feral.
“If they want anyone else…they’ll have to go through me first.”