Chapter 43
Evander woke to pale winter light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the solid warmth of Viggo’s body pressed against his back.
For a long moment, he simply lay there, registering a myriad of sensations. The soft feather mattress beneath him. The weight of Viggo’s arm draped across his waist. The steady rhythm of the Brute’s breathing against his neck. The faint ache in his muscles that spoke of physical exhaustion.
And warmth in his magic core—the same unfamiliar warmth he’d felt inside the convergence, still there even now, as steady as a heartbeat.
He ignored it for the moment, relief superseding his surprise.
He was alive. They were alive.
The events of the previous night—or had it been longer?—came back to him in fragments. The convergence. Winchester. The Codex splitting in two. The desperate escape from the collapsing monastery. And then water and coldness.
He dimly remembered Viggo’s arms around him and his lover’s voice, rough with fear. After that, nothing.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Viggo murmured against his hair.
Evander smiled despite himself. “How long was I asleep?”
“Two days.” The arm around his waist tightened briefly. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Evander blinked. He looked at Viggo over his shoulder. “Two days?!”
He realised Viggo was waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“No, you’re not.” There was no heat in Viggo’s voice, only weary acceptance. “You’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Evander couldn’t argue with that. He turned carefully in Viggo’s embrace until they were face-to-face, wincing at the protest of stiff muscles.
Dark circles shadowed Viggo’s eyes and stubble darkened his jaw. He looked like he’d barely slept in those two days. The relief in his gaze when he met Evander’s made something hot unfurl in the mage’s chest.
“I would,” Evander admitted quietly. “But I’m still sorry for worrying you.”
Viggo’s response was to pull him closer and kiss him with a tenderness that made Evander’s heart ache. The Brute pressed their foreheads together when they finally drew apart.
“The others are fine,” he said, anticipating Evander’s questions. “Shaw’s arm is healing well. Ginny’s bruises are fading. The rescued mages and researchers are being tended to by Richter’s people.” He paused. “Lina Velghe has been asking after you.”
Evander’s thoughts went to Princess Elo?se. “We need to return her to Brussels.”
“I know.” Viggo’s thumb traced idle patterns on his hip. “Richter’s already made arrangements. We can leave tomorrow, assuming you’re well enough to travel.”
“I’m well enough now.”
Viggo snorted. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“I’m conserving energy,” Evander said stubbornly.
He ruined the effect somewhat with a huge yawn.
Viggo’s lips quirked. “You’re a terrible liar. Rest today. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Evander wanted to argue, but exhaustion was already dragging at him, heavy and inexorable. He let his eyes drift closed, secure in the warmth of Viggo’s arms.
The journey back across Europe was as different from their outward voyage as day was from night.
Where before there had been urgency and uncertainty, a desperate race against an enemy always one step ahead, now there was something closer to quiet peace. They had retrieved half the Codex. They had rescued the missing mages and researchers. And, most importantly, they had survived.
The cost, of course, had been significant. Winchester had escaped with the other half of the ancient text. “I” remained at large. And Evander still didn’t fully understand what had awakened inside him during those impossible moments within the convergence.
But for now, as their train wound through the snow-dusted Austrian countryside, he allowed himself to simply breathe.
Their party had grown for the return journey.
Lina Velghe sat in their compartment, her dark hair now clean and neatly arranged, her dress a far cry from the tattered remnants she’d worn when she’d been rescued from the monastery.
She was quiet, her eyes often distant and haunted, but there was steel beneath her fragile exterior that reminded Evander strongly of Princess Elo?se.
The other rescued prisoners had been divided among Richter’s care and that of their respective governments. Messages had been sent ahead, families notified, and diplomatic channels carefully navigated. The Austrian inspector had proven invaluable in managing the complex logistics.
It was Lina who’d offered an explanation as to the presence of the Magical Conduit devices Viggo, Fairbridge, and Solomon had found in the cells of the monastic prison.
She and another researcher had overheard their guards talking once and had learned of a possible plan to kidnap hundreds, if not thousands, of thralls and mages across the continent in the near future.
The account had haunted Evander, just as it had Viggo and every member of their team.
As to why the monastery had collapsed, Evander could only guess it was due to Winchester’s magic or the convergence collapsing once the Codex fragment it existed to protect was torn away.
One thing still puzzled him though. And that was how the Das Blutbuch had ended up in the very monastery where the First Archmage had hidden the main body of the Crimson Codex. Laurenz Helnwein had expressed genuine shock when Evander had asked him the question before leaving Vienna.
Was it truly just a coincidence?
Rufus interrupted his uneasy musing.
“We’ll reach Munich by nightfall,” the inspector reported, returning from a conversation with the conductor. “From there, the night train to Brussels.”
“We need to stop in Paris before we cross the Channel,” Evander said quietly. “I need to speak with Leon.”
Viggo stirred a little but he said nothing. The tension that had once existed between the two men had mellowed over the course of their investigation, though Evander suspected it would never disappear entirely.
Solomon sat holding Ginny’s hand opposite them, their proximity something that would have raised eyebrows in London society. Whatever had developed between them during their time abroad, it seemed to have solidified into something neither was willing to hide any longer.
Shaw dozed in her corner, her splinted arm cradled against her chest. Even in sleep, the forensic mage’s brow was furrowed, as if puzzling over some particularly vexing piece of evidence.
Fairbridge sat next to the window, ostensibly reading a German newspaper but his eyes lifted frequently to gaze outside.
The spy had said little since the monastery.
Whatever report he would deliver to General Hartwick and the Queen, Evander suspected it would be rather different from the one the Ministry of Arcane Affairs had originally hoped for.
What remained of the Codex rested in a warded case underneath Evander’s seat, its presence a constant thrum against his magical senses.
He hadn’t attempted to read it yet. Half of him feared what he might find within those ancient pages.
The other half wondered what the text might reveal about the change inside him.
For now, he let the rhythm of the train lull him into a state of quiet contemplation, Viggo’s shoulder warm against his own.
Brussels materialised from the winter mist a few days later, its familiar spires and grand facades a welcome sight despite the dismal weather.
Princess Elo?se met them at a private residence Inspector Willems had arranged on the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes and the complications of royal protocol. She wore a simple day dress rather than court finery, her brown hair tied in a loose bun at her nape.
Rufus and the others waited with Willems in the dining room while Evander escorted Lina to the parlour.
The princess went utterly still when her friend walked into the room behind him. Her face, usually so carefully controlled, crumpled with emotion—sorrow, regret, joy.
Then she was moving, rising from her chair and crossing the room in swift strides that spoke nothing of royal dignity and everything of desperate hope.
“Lina,” she breathed, opening her arms.
Lina met her halfway.
The two women embraced fiercely, clinging to each other as if afraid the other might vanish. Elo?se cried, tears streaming down her cheeks without shame. Lina’s shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Evander looked away, aware he was intruding on something intensely private.
Elo?se’s gaze found him over Lina’s shoulder. The gratitude in her eyes was so profound it humbled him.
“Duke Ravenwood.” Her voice was thick with tears but steady. “I don’t know how to thank you. For bringing her back. For stopping those monsters. For everything.”
“No thanks are necessary, Your Highness,” Evander said quietly. “I’m only glad we found Miss Velghe in time.”
Elo?se shook her head. “You risked everything. You and your team. Inspector Willems told me what happened at the monastery.” She straightened, some of her usual composure returning even as she kept one arm firmly around Lina’s waist. “Please, stay. Rest and refresh yourselves before continuing your journey. It’s the least I can offer. ”
Evander accepted, partly out of politeness and partly because he and his team were still worn out. He found himself alone with Elo?se briefly that evening after dinner, when the others had retired and Lina had finally succumbed to the exhaustion she’d been fighting.
“She’ll need time,” he said carefully. “What she endured—it leaves marks that don’t show on the surface.”
Elo?se nodded, her expression grave. “I know. I’ve arranged for the best healers, both physical and mental. Whatever she needs, she’ll have.”
“Good.”
A silence stretched between them.
“It’s not over yet, is it?” Elo?se said finally.
“No.” Evander saw no point in softening the truth. “We dealt our enemy a blow, but the man behind it all remains at large. And he now possesses half of a text that contains knowledge better left buried.”
“What will you do?”
“Continue the fight.” Evander’s jaw tightened. “Whatever it takes. However long it takes.”
Elo?se studied him for a long moment. “If you ever need assistance—resources, information, allies—you have only to ask. What you’ve done for Lina—” She paused and took a shuddering breath. “I will never forget it.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Elo?se,” she corrected with a ghost of a smile. “I think we’re well past formalities, Duke Ravenwood.”
“Evander,” he offered in return.
Her smile warmed. “Evander. I wish you safe travels tomorrow. And be careful. Something tells me the worst is yet to come.”