Chapter 31
Merrit
Evening found us in the Divide.
We'd taken a carriage with two guards who stayed outside—discreet but present. I was healed, but Kieran wasn't taking chances. Not after everything.
My bar was busier than usual. Warm light spilled through windows, voices and laughter louder than normal. As we approached, I realized why—someone had spread the word. All my people were here.
Kieran squeezed my hand. "Ready for this?"
I hesitated. A crowded bar meant dozens of minds. Thoughts bleeding together into noise I'd need Sable's elixirs to dampen. Except, I didn't have any elixirs with me. Hadn't taken one in days and the bond had burned through what had been in my system.
Kieran felt my anxiety. “What's wrong?”
“Crowds. Too many minds. I didn't bring—"
“You don't need them anymore.” His presence wrapped around me through our connection, steady and calm. “When it gets too loud, retreat here. To me. I'll anchor you.”
I tested it. Reached out with my awareness toward the bar, felt the wash of thoughts and emotions from inside—
—glad she's alive—
—Prince actually came—
—heard she killed—
Too much. Too fast. The familiar pressure building behind my eyes.
But then Kieran's presence surged through the bond. Not blocking the thoughts, but giving me something else to focus on. A quiet space within the noise. His mind, clear and calm and there.
The pressure eased. The voices didn't disappear, but they became manageable. Background noise instead of overwhelming static.
“Better?” he sent.
“Better.” I looked up at him, amazed. “I don't need the elixirs anymore.”
“The bond gives you what you need.” He smiled. “Including silence when the world gets too loud.”
I squeezed his hand and pushed open the door.
The familiar space washed over me—but it was full. Scarred tables packed with locals, the bar crowded, but I’d already found my silence in Kieran, my refuge.
Rhett saw me first. His face split into a genuine grin. "Well, look who's not dead! Everyone, the boss has finally left her castle!"
A cheer went up. Actual cheering. My face heated, and the surge of emotions from the crowd—relief, joy, pride, welcome—threatened to overwhelm me again.
I pressed closer to Kieran, used the bond to steady myself. His calm flowed through our connection, giving me the space I needed to breathe. To process.
This was new. Having an anchor that wasn't a potion or an elixir, but a person. A connection. Someone who could give me silence when I needed it, simply by being there.
"He's been insufferable waiting for you," Jex rumbled from his corner, though his golden eyes were warm. "Cleaned this place three times."
"I have not—" Rhett stopped, grinning. "Okay, maybe twice."
"Three," Sable said from a barstool, Trouble curled in her lap. The little fox familiar's ears perked when he saw me, and he yipped once—sharp and accusing, like where have you been?
When I reached Sable, she stood, set Trouble on the bar, and pulled me into a brief hug that smelled of smoke and herbs.
"You look better than last time." Her dark eyes cataloged me—healer's instinct and witch's intuition combined. Then she paused. "You're not using my elixirs anymore."
“Don't think I’ll be needing them anymore,” I signed, giving her a tentative smile.
"The bond?" I didn’t know how she knew, but she didn't need me to confirm. She simply nodded, accepting. "Good. My supplies were running low anyway."
That was a bold-faced lie from a witch who could taste them. Sable always had supplies. But she wasn't going to pry, and I wasn't going to explain.
Trouble hopped across the bar to sniff at my hand, whiskers twitching. I scratched behind his ears, and he chittered contentedly.
"Missed you," Sable said. "So did this one. Kept stealing things from my workbench."
Trouble's tail swished, unrepentant.
The door opened, letting in a blast of cool night air—and Nadia.
The shadow Fae looked rough. Exhausted. Her dark clothes were travel-worn, and I could see the faint tremor in her hands she was trying to hide. Transporting Kieran's brothers through her shadows had nearly killed her.
She moved through the crowd with the efficiency of someone who didn't want to be here long.
"You're alive." Nadia's voice was clipped, matter-of-fact. "Good. Would've been a waste otherwise."
“Thank you,” I signed, knowing that wasn’t big enough for what she’d done. “For bringing them.”
"Did my job." She glanced at Kieran, then back to me. "Lorenzo's outside with the horses. We leave at dawn for Tharros. Rooting out the rest of Tobias’ people."
“Horses?” I signed, surprised. “Can't you just—”
"Shadow-walk? Sure. Alone." Her expression was sour.
"But your brother-in-law needs to get to Tharros, too, and I can't bring passengers yet.
Not after..." She gestured vaguely at herself.
"Nearly killed me bringing three vampires through the shadows.
Need time to recover before I can do that again. "
"How long?" Kieran asked quietly.
"Months. Maybe half a year." Nadia's jaw was tight. "Transporting living beings through shadow takes more than just power—it takes precision. One mistake and they're scattered across the realm in pieces. I'm not risking that until I'm fully healed."
“So you're stuck on horseback,” I signed, eyes wide. I’d only met Lorenzo once, and I had a feeling he’d met his match with the surly shadow Fae.
"For two weeks with your uptight bastard of a brother.
Yes." She looked at Kieran. "I offered to go ahead, scout everything out, meet him there.
But apparently, he needs to 'personally oversee the operation' and 'maintain proper chain of command.
'" The air quotes were sharp. "So. Horses. For two weeks."
Kieran's mouth twitched. "That sounds like Lorenzo."
"He's infuriating." But there was something in her tone—grudging respect, maybe. "Competent, though. I'll give him that."
"He usually is," Kieran said.
"Makes him worse." Nadia clasped my shoulder once—brief, firm. "Be safe. And don't get kidnapped again. I'm not shadow-walking passengers for at least a few months."
“You take care, too,” I signed, barely containing my grin.
"I'll survive. Even if Lorenzo bores me to death with proper procedures and strategic planning." She headed for the door, then paused. "He's waiting outside with the horses."
"Try calling him Enzo," Kieran suggested, his smile turning wicked. "He hates it."
Nadia's lips curled—the first real smile I'd seen from her. "Does he now?"
"Loathes it. Our father used it when he was in trouble as a child. He'll probably threaten you."
"Perfect." Nadia's smile widened into something wicked. "Two weeks of 'Enzo' it is. Thanks for the tip."
Then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her.
"That was cruel," I signed to Kieran, but I was smiling.
"He'll survive. Besides"—Kieran's grin was unrepentant—"she needs something to make the trip bearable. And watching Lorenzo try to maintain his dignity while being called Enzo for two weeks? That'll do it."
“You're terrible to your brother.”
"I'm helpful. I just gave her a way to cope with his strategic planning lectures." He pulled me closer. "That's basically a gift. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost."
A commotion at the door announced another arrival. Serenya swept in like she owned the place, took one look around, and beamed.
"This is wonderful! Merrit, why didn't you tell me your bar was so perfectly gritty?"
"Because you'd never leave," Kieran muttered.
Serenya ignored him, making a beeline for the bar where Rhett was mixing drinks. "You. Bartender. Make me something that'll scandalize my mother."
"Everything scandalizes your mother," Kieran said.
"Exactly. So make it strong." Serenya leaned on the bar, studying Rhett with open appreciation. "You're the alchemist, aren't you? The one who makes the potions in this place?"
"That's me." Rhett's eyes were wary but amused. "And you're the prince's cousin who's going to be trouble."
"Oh, I'm definitely trouble." She grinned. "But the fun kind."
Jex moved closer—protective instinct—and Serenya's attention shifted to him. Her eyes went wide.
"You're enormous. Do you fight?"
“When necessary,” he growled, but there was a distinct darkening at his cheeks that could be a blush.
"Fascinating. I bet you're magnificent when you're violent." She said it as if she were discussing weather. "We should spar sometime. I'd love to see how you move."
Jex looked at Rhett. Rhett looked at Kieran. Kieran looked at me.
“They are going to have their hands full,” I signed, my eyebrows hitting my hairline.
"Unfortunately," he muttered.
Serenya had already launched into an animated discussion with Rhett about alchemy, asking sharp questions that proved she knew more than expected. She was also shamelessly flirting, which left Rhett looking distinctly off-balance.
"Is she always like this?" Sable asked.
"Worse, usually," Kieran said.
"Gods help us," Jex grumbled.
But I caught the hint of amusement in the pull of his lips. And Rhett, for all his wariness, was engaged in the conversation—debating reagent ratios and extraction methods while Serenya leaned closer than strictly necessary.
The evening settled into comfortable chaos. Serenya continued to fascinate and scandalize in equal measure. Sable stayed nearby with Trouble, adding dry commentary. Locals came over to welcome me back, to tell me they were glad I was safe.
This was my place. My bar. My people. And they were here celebrating that I'd survived.
At one point, Rhett pulled me aside. "You good? Really good?"
“Really good.”
"The prince treating you right?"
I looked at Kieran, who was patiently suffering through another of Serenya's stories. “Better than right. Perfect.”
"Good. You deserve perfect." Rhett's expression shifted—something between awe and discomfort. "Speaking of royalty... the king took care of something while you were unconscious."
I went still. “What?”