Emmaline

25. Chapter 25

Chapter twenty-five

“Down!” Cassidy’s hand clamped onto Emmaline’s shoulder, dragging them both further into the dense foliage.

Sunlight filtered through the towering trees, dappling the soft moss beneath them. It was another beautiful day in the Vale—wasted as they crouched in the underbrush, sneaking further onto Caelith’s cursed estate.

Cassidy had tried to convince Emmaline she didn’t need to come, that she shouldn’t come, but there was no arguing. Emmaline had to see the charm’s effect with her own eyes. No one else could even perceive her particular blend of light and dark magic, let alone determine if it was working.

A faint, familiar hum vibrated through the air.

“There shouldn’t be anyone here,” Emmaline whispered.

Cassidy clapped a hand over her mouth, then shoved her lower, pressing both of them into the ground. Branches scraped against Emmaline’s arms, the smell of crushed earth and moss filling her nose.

“Shh.” Cassidy’s voice was barely more than breath. “Listen. Watch.”

The glider pulled up along the gravel drive, its enchantments dissipating with a hiss as it settled. The door swung open, and Deyric stepped out, his movements cold and mechanical. Without hesitation, he opened the back door and moved aside.

Caelith emerged next, stretching as though he were a king surveying his domain, the faintest sneer on his lips.

Deyric didn’t spare him a glance, didn’t even wait. He shut the door and strode toward the manor’s entrance, disappearing inside without a word.

The moment he was gone, Caelith reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial.

Emmaline’s breath hitched. It looked like the one he had that night, but… different.

Holding it up to the light, he examined the contents, swirling the pale liquid within before flicking droplets onto the base of the statue.

“What’s he going to do now? Rape the statue?” She clenched her hands into the damp earth, soil packing beneath her nails.

Cassidy’s grip tightened around her wrist, but she said nothing.

They watched as Caelith stepped back, studying where the droplets had fallen.

“I wonder what he’s doing.”

Emmaline’s glare darkened. “Nothing good. We’ll need to check it before we leave.”

“How long do you think he’ll stay?”

“Not long. He has drinks with a group of Lords every Wednesday.” She looked at her speak-easy, reading the time. “If he doesn’t leave soon, he’ll be late. He’d usually already be on his way.”

At least something from… before…was proving useful. She knew exactly where the sick bastard would be every day of the week.

Cassidy nodded, eyes still trained on the residence. “Look—there’s the driver or a servant. Back already.”

Emmaline’s stomach clenched.

“That’s D...” The words catching in her throat.

“Huh?” Cassidy turned, brow furrowed.

She swallowed hard. “It’s… that’s Deyric.”

Cassidy sucked in a quiet breath. Then, without hesitation, she reached over, squeezing Emmaline’s arm. “Oh, hun. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t.

She kept her eyes locked on him as he walked back to the glider, a small brown bag in hand. He passed it to Caelith, then pulled open the door, waiting as the Lord slipped inside.

Then, he moved toward the driver’s side, but he didn’t climb in. He froze, nostrils flaring.

Emmaline bit her lip, watching as he scanned the gardens, sweeping across the foliage.

“Lyra’s tits, can he smell you?” Cassidy hissed, yanking Emmaline onto her belly. “I thought the bond was broken.”

Emmaline pressed her chin into the earth, grinding her teeth. “It is. Thanks for the reminder.”

From their hidden vantage point, she saw Deyric’s brow furrow, his lips parting as if something wasn’t adding up. He inhaled again, deeper this time, his head tilting ever so slightly. Then—just for a second—his attention focused on their exact hiding spot.

Emmaline’s breath stalled in her throat.

And then, with a small shake of his head, he climbed into the front of the carriage, closing the door behind him.

Watching the glider rumble away down the cobbled drive, Emmaline and Cassidy slowly rose from the ground.

“Here.” Emmaline brushed dirt from her arms, then pulled the charm from her pocket. “We shouldn’t waste any more time.” The golden pendant caught the light, gleaming against the deep green of the surrounding leaves.

“Here we go.” Cassidy took it with a steadying inhale and raised it in front of her. “A Terrible Lord did this magic.” Her voice was hushed as the charm pulsed once before falling still.

Narrowing her eyes, Emmaline focused on the residual traces of magic now visible before her.

The faint yellow glow—her own—began to shift, warping like ink bleeding into water, darkening into a sour green shade.

Then, as the illusion locked into place, the shadow of a plimrat flickered into existence, scampering across the base of the statue before vanishing into nothing.

“Did it work?” Cassidy lowered the charm.

“Yes.” A thrill of triumph shot through her veins. “One more time, and there will be ample evidence that Caelith killed Lady Allistair.” Emmaline reached for the charm, her fingers lingering against the warm gold as she took it back.

“Good.” Cassidy wiped her hands on her pants, then hesitated, as if realizing what she was doing, before shoving them deep into her pockets instead.

“Grey magic isn’t any different than Light, or Fire, or Life, or any other magic,” Emmaline said carefully as she slid the chain over her head and the solid weight of the pendant settled between her breasts.

“I know. I know it’s just superstition and prejudice.” Cassidy shifted, before she muttered, “The Dark just feels… I don’t know… more wrong when mixed with Light.” She glanced at Emmaline, then winced. “Sorry. No offense.”

“And you wonder why I didn’t tell anyone.”

Dark magic was an unspoken necessity, taboo, but never truly shunned.

People still sought it out, still used it when it suited them.

But blending Dark with Light? That was another matter entirely.

That was corruption. An act so reviled that anyone caught doing it wouldn’t live long.

The Patrol would look the other way while a “concerned citizen” did what was expected of them.

Ever since the War, when the imps had nearly poisoned the very heart of the Vale with something worse than darkness—pure Emptiness—there had been no tolerance for what Emmaline could do. And yet, they needed it to bring Caelith down.

Emmaline pushed through the underbrush, stepping into the open air as the midday sun beat down on the abandoned courtyard. The statue loomed ahead.

“Come on.” Gravel crunched under her boots as she made her way toward it. “We need to see what he did before leaving.”

Cassidy rushed after her, twigs snapping and leaves rustling as she hurried to catch up. “I’m sorry, Ems. I know you’re not going to—”

“Suck the Vale into oblivion?” Emmaline rolled her eyes, squinting as she stepped fully into the sunlight.

“Exactly.” An awkward laugh slipped past her lips as she rubbed at the back of her neck. “The fanatics that believe that… they’re crazy.”

Emmaline turned, letting herself drape against the statue like a lazy cat, her weight sinking into the cool stone. Then, she bent forward, elbows braced on her knees, tilting her head just enough to let her hair slide over one shoulder.

A sly, lopsided grin tugged at her lips as she studied Cassidy, her voice rolling out sweet as honey. “And I’m definitely not crazy, right?”

Cassidy opened her mouth, paused, then pressed her lips together. She shifted from foot to foot, the corners of her mouth twitching like she wanted to answer, but also really didn’t want to.

The silence stretched.

Emmaline’s smirk went wider before a low chuckle escaped. “Relax, Cas.” She pushed off the statue and straightened, rolling her shoulders. “I’m only slightly unhinged.”

Cassidy coughed, then burst out laughing. “Oh—no. You’re definitely touched in the head, Emmaline.” She snapped her fingers, and a sharp sting nipped Emmaline’s backside from Cassidy’s magic.

“Hey!” Emmaline yelped. “Watch it, or I’ll smear the Grey all over you.”

“Ewww.” Her nose scrunched. “When you say it like that…” Cassidy exhaled, then set her hands on her hips, looking at Emmaline expectantly. “Well?”

Emmaline lifted a brow. “What? I’m useless unless it’s illusions. Aren’t you supposed to be some super awesome Corgi Rider? The Goddess’s right hand of justice? You should be able to perform basic investigative magic, no?”

Cassidy’s lips thinned. “I’m a healer.”

“And?”

“Fine! Yes, I have training to evaluate how magic was used, though it’s mostly for determining curses and, you know, healing people.” Cassidy waved around her. “Not covering up murder.”

“Well, congratulations.” Emmaline clapped her hands together. “Consider this continuing education in crime scene evaluation.” She settled back onto the statue. “Go on, then. Show me what a Corgi Rider can do.”

Cassidy’s hand hovered midair before slowly lowering.

Emmaline tilted her head. “Any day now. We still need to get to Margo’s today.”

“Alright! Sorry, I’ve just never done anything like this. What if I can’t tell what he did?”

“You will. Just start with what you know and go from there.” They needed to know what that… that monster did.

“Fine,” Cassidy groaned. She then raised her hands and closed her eyes.

Magic pulsed in the air as she reached out, searching. At first, nothing. Then—

She frowned. “It’s… layered on?” Her hands hovered just above the base of the statue. “There’s a lot of you here, Emmaline.”

“Well, yeah.” Emmaline wrinkled her nose. “I was here.”

“No.” Cassidy’s brows furrowed deeper. “I mean a lot of you. Way too much for a single moment in time. It’s painted over the whole area like… like he took a handful of you and just coated it on.”

“So, he just dumped residue of my essence all over the crime scene and figured that’d be enough to crucify me with iron?” Emmaline’s gut twisted. “That arrogant, lazy, prick.”

Cassidy nodded slowly. “Sloppy. But paired with a confession and… any essence you would have left in the manor? It would be enough. Especially if the nobles are involved.”

Emmaline pressed her fingers against her temple, resisting the urge to laugh at the utter lack of subtlety. “Bastard.”

Cassidy stepped back, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, at least we know what we’re dealing with.”

Emmaline hopped down from the statue, brushing the dust from her dress. “Can you undo it?”

“Lara can clean it. It’s not complicated. I’ll come back out with her tonight.” Cassidy rubbed a hand over her face. “You said he’s usually gone until early morning every Wednesday night?”

“Yes.” Emmaline crossed her arms. “He has a standing appointment at the House of Midnight Pleasures.”

Cassidy’s brows shot high. “Wait. Madame Whisper’s?”

“Yes.” Emmaline’s mouth flattened before she sighed. “Madame Whisper’s House of Midnight Pleasures.”

Cassidy let out a low whistle. “That’s a brothel.”

“It is.” Emmaline started walking back the way they came, her steps brisk now that stealth wasn’t necessary.

“And you knew he went there? Regularly?”

“Yes.”

Cassidy hurried to catch up. “And you still thought he was your mate?”

Emmaline clenched her jaw. “Yes, Cassidy. I think we’ve established that I’m both delusional and an idiot. No need to rub it in.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Cassidy shook her head. “It’s just—you’re you, Emmaline. You analyze everything. You plan everything. You don’t just jump into things blindly. This doesn’t sound like you.”

Silence stretched between them.

Cassidy was right. She was usually careful, meticulous, even. She never made choices without understanding every angle, every consequence. And yet, with Caelith, she’d hurled herself headfirst into a fantasy, ignoring every sign, every inconsistency, every red flag waving in her face.

“I guess I just wanted it so bad.” Her voice was quiet, brittle at the edges.

“Caelith?” Cassidy asked.

“No. Just the idea of him.”

Beside her, Cassidy leaned in, her shoulder nudging against Emmaline’s.

Their footsteps fell in sync, steady and unbroken, a wordless conversation of their own. Emmaline kept her gaze ahead, fingers hanging loosely at her sides.

Finally, she exhaled. “My parents were mates.”

Cassidy slowed. Emmaline didn’t talk about her family. Not since the War. Not since she lost them.

“Really?” Cassidy’s voice was gentle. “Mate bonds were rare even before the War.”

Emmaline’s throat bobbed, unable to confirm with words.

“The Goddess is good.” Cassidy bowed her head.

A hollow sound left Emmaline’s throat. “Seeing them together as a child—it was the most beautiful thing. They loved each other so completely. It was like they existed in their own world, one where nothing could touch them.” She swallowed. “And then they were gone.”

Cassidy squeezed her hand.

“They died in each other’s arms,” Emmaline continued, her voice barely audible now. “They shoved me clear as the building caved in. My father was pinned beneath the wreckage, bleeding out, and my mother… she wouldn’t leave him. Even when she could’ve saved herself.”

The memory burned behind her eyes, just as vivid now as it was that day.

The fire, the screams, the clash of swords, and the explosion of magics.

Amid the devastation, she had found Margo, Cassidy, and Ursula—faces streaked with soot, eyes hard with the kind of understanding no child should have.

But even as the world burned around them, they protected each other. And had been ever since.

“I’m so sorry, Emmaline.” Cassidy’s voice seemed far away.

The War had stolen so much from them. From everyone. It was a miracle they were even alive to speak of it.

Emmaline blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears.

“I just wanted a love like that—what they had. It’s all I’ve ever wanted…

since that day.” She huffed a bitter laugh.

“So when I saw Caelith, and he was all shiny and charming, I thought, this is it. He must be the one.” She shook her head.

“And everything else just blurred into the background. Even Deyric.”

Silence stretched between them as they walked, thick as the smoke that once choked the ruined city of their birth.

It wasn’t long before the gates of Greymane property emerged ahead, sharp-tipped and towering.

Age and weather had gnawed at the metal, rust creeping in at the hinges, but the crest embedded in its arch still gleamed, polished and proud.

“You know.” Cassidy pulled Emmaline to a stop, then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “You already have that kind of love. You’ve had it for a long time. From three equally insane Ellyllon women and a giant Corgi.”

Emmaline let out a shaky laugh, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess I did.”