Chapter 4
Jane
Joy was still sluggish when I brought her to the infirmary, wanting to be left alone and unwind after what had just happened. Hildegard would keep a careful watch.
She wasn’t injured, aside from the bite on her arm. It wasn’t the first. But the frost clinging to her hand was new.
Gwin led us into Barracus’ office. The walk there was a blur, my thoughts reeling and still rooted in the infirmary.
Inside the room, a heavy mahogany desk dominated the centre. It was my first time there, since the dining room was a mess.
Sap-green couches lined one wall, and an immense bookshelf towered to my right.
I leaned against the opposite wooden panels while Gwin sank into the sofa.
Cerridwen and Finn had taken the seats across from Barracus, who sat in a dark leather chair worn with deep creases.
Reagan lingered near the window where the evening light traced his silhouette, his expression shaded with something I chose not to read.
But the faint distortion in the air around him drew my attention. His power was dense, more present. I could feel it from across the room.
“How is she?” he asked.
“She’s fine,” I murmured. “Just a bit shaken.”
Silence pooled for a moment until Cerridwen spoke.
“That is why we have to discuss this, starting with Malory.” Her gaze moved between Reagan and me. “Both of you will need to speak with her at Jane’s next appointment. Come forward about the family situation and why you waited so long.”
Reagan jerked his chin. “Finn needs to come as well. He can share our theories about the investigation she opened. Jane is not part of that discussion yet.”
“And Joy?” I asked. “My father obviously cannot be present, but won’t Malory want to see her?”
“It would be better if the Lord and Lady presented the situation,” Cerridwen replied. “Finn with you would be fine, but your sister might be too volatile. We can tell Malory she is recovering from the attack, and with Hildegard’s report she should be satisfied."
I blinked. My head felt far too heavy, and for a moment I wondered if I had misheard.
But Reagan’s stillness told me I hadn’t.
“The girl needs to go with them,” Barracus said in Cerridwen's direction. “Otherwise, Malory won’t be satisfied. She will simply summon her.”
“Lady?” I asked, staring at Reagan. “Did I miss something?”
He licked his lower lip, burying his hands in his pockets. Finally he gave his Second a dry smile. “Jane and I haven’t discussed that sensitive topic yet. But thank you for introducing it so carefully into the conversation.”
Realisation swept across Cerridwen’s face like a rising tide.
“I assumed there was nothing to discuss. My mistake clearly. But do inform us. We will need time to prepare. A bonding ceremony changes our timeline, especially before we summon a Druid Matron to perform the rite. The sooner we know, the better.”
I exhaled, smothering my disbelief. What they had been discussing these past days, or what assumptions had been planted, I had no idea.
“Can we focus on Joy?” I asked, turning fully toward him. “The girl you baited into an extreme reaction to prove a point. Right?”
He dipped his chin, studying me as though gauging my mood. “It was a way to show you both the truth,” he said evenly. “But I didn’t know it would disturb—”
“There must have been other ways than telling her she nearly killed our father. You could have talked to her, could have explained.” A bitter sound left me, too weary to be a laugh.
“But why would I expect that? I know perfectly well there is no compass in your nature. You do as you want and everyone else just adapts.”
His expression didn’t shift. It might as well have been carved from stone. The silence around us reminded me we were not alone, and that my temper was only worsening the moment.
“You saw it yourself,” Reagan said at last. “She can manipulate mana like any of us, and without even trying, which makes it dangerous. How do you think Malory will treat a girl who was raised as a human and cannot control her access to mana? Do you think she will not see your sister as a risk to others?”
“What could Malory do?” I asked, worrying at my nails.
“She could order your sister confined to a Healer’s Hall until she gains control,” Finnegan said grimly. “Or forbid us from seeing her altogether if she thinks Joy can be…a wild card.”
My entire body went rigid. “That is not happening,” I said, steadying my tone with effort, “under any circumstance. What do we need to do?”
“We must be forthcoming about your relics,” Cerridwen answered, calmly. “And how we just recently discovered that your access has been nullified.”
“It’ll be best if Hildegard completes her examination before we show anything to Malory,” Reagan said. “We also need a clearer understanding of your access before we go.”
I knew Malory’s methods well enough to agree. I wanted her judgements far from my family. We couldn’t let her decide Joy’s fate. Or mine.
I inclined my head in muted agreement.
“That is why we need to assure her we have control over this,” Reagan warned. “She will have questions.”
“What about their father?” Gwin asked, glancing at Finnegan, her elbows planted on her knees. “Could he have a relic as well?”
Finn shook his head. “None that we could find. And we lost the chance to confirm his access once he lost consciousness.”
“I don’t think their father is hybrid-born at all,” Gwinifer went on. “Jane was able to get out at the train station in Mountheim. He did not.”
The others nodded as if realising something.
Gwin turned to me. “Only the mageborn or a hybrid-born can see that stop. Humans don’t notice it when the train stops there.
When you arrived, I told them you’d probably gotten off the train because you saw me getting off, which was either my mistake or a problem with the human passageway.
But now it makes sense. It was your first time travelling to the human Capital, the first time you passed through Mountheim’s station, and you thought it was the right one.
But the station you wanted was the next human station.
Your father travelled the other times and never saw it, except when he was with your sister. He must be fully human.”
Nodding, I pressed my fingertips into my temples as a sharp ache pulsed behind my eyes. Probably from lack of sleep. “So should we test now?”
“You should rest before the examination,” Reagan answered me, his gaze catching on something in my expression.
Fine. Better.
“I will stay with her tonight in my room,” I murmured. “Is this all you need from me?”
“Yes,” Reagan replied. “In the morning, as soon as you are ready, we will test.”
I dipped my head again before turning towards the door and slipping out of the room. There was nothing in me capable of caring for the rest of the staff meeting tonight.
Reagan fell into step beside me. “Your sister can have her own room. Cerridwen arranged the one next to yours.”
“I would rather she stays with me tonight.”
He caught my elbow, stopping me mid-step. “You need to be careful, Jan. Tell her to sleep with her ring. If her emotions are unstable, she might lose control again. In the next room, you would still be…”
“She will be fine with me,” I cut him off. “And far away from you.”
His grip loosened. “You didn’t know what she was capable of until tonight. If there is risk, I will tell you, even if you are cross with me. You know why I did it.”
I wrenched my arm free, my resentment bubbling inside me in a rush, threading every word.
“I know why you did it. And I still wish it hadn’t been you who treated my family like that.
So poorly. You lied. You kept from me that they were here, that they were hurt.
You can call it protection if you like, but it was selfish, Caedmon.
You decided you knew what was best for me.
You don’t. You don’t get to make those choices. ”
He frowned, an expression closer to regret than confusion.
No, he understood. Reagan’s ordeals had been bound to his nature.
Anyone could look at him and think he was perfect, the kind of person that intimidated and commanded by sheer presence alone.
Everything a ruler was meant to look like.
But the curse had never been about authority or appearances. It had been about virtue.
He wasn’t cruel, but he could be. Perhaps this response was exactly what had been taught to him, being raised to protect and fulfil his duty. I found myself wondering if kindness had been second to those things. It wouldn’t have surprised me.
Still, he wasn’t cruel to me anymore. Since we were together, he had become gentle and steady and devoted. And he knew me. He had to have known how absurd his actions were, how needlessly cruel they had been to the people I loved.
My gaze dropped to where the heartstone would have rested, if it were still there.
“You’re right,” he said. “And I have explained myself. I apologised. If it had been anyone else, I would not regret it. But I do. I am sorry your father was hurt. I regret your sister today.”
His hands twitched at his sides, though the rest of him remained impossibly still.
I sighed, recognising the expression on his face, the one he wore when he wanted me to give in.
Once, we had an expiration date. Now everything felt unmoored.
The brush of something phantom reached for me, not touching, just there.
“Fight me if you need,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need.”
What I needed could not be given.
I needed my father to wake.
I needed Joy to be safe.
I needed answers about what was happening to her. About what would come next.
And for myself—
“Time,” I said. “I need time.”
◆◆◆
When I picked up Joy from the infirmary, I was surprised she didn’t protest. It made me wonder just how drained she was, how little sleep she’d had since leaving Ehrfurt nearly eight nights ago.
So I guided her up the main staircase that wound from the communal halls to the second floor, where our room waited.
Only after we’d bathed and stretched across the bed did I ask, “Do you know how you did that in the dining room today?”
She lay beside me beneath the cream plush blanket, her head on grey pillows, wearing one of the nightgowns from my wardrobe.
“I don’t even know what that was.” Her voice was quiet.
“I was angry at what he said, then I felt hot and suffocated, and I just needed to… I don’t know. Scream? It felt like screaming.”
I watched her while she stared up at the ceiling, hands resting on her stomach, fingers worrying at her nails. “Do you think you could do it again, if you tried?”
Her head turned toward me, eyes narrowing. “Why would I want to?”
“To learn control,” I said softly. “That’s what we’ll have to do tomorrow, to understand what this is before we speak to the judge.”
She shook her head, the motion stiff. “I have no idea how.” Her voice faltered. “I think your boyfriend’s right about it being dangerous. I might have hurt Father.”
I placed my hand over hers, stopping her restless fingers. “He’ll wake up, Joy. We just have to wait.” My chest tightened. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have found a way to warn you both.”
I had abandoned them. They could have died in those woods because I let myself be distracted. I’d been too quick to give up trying to return to them.
She closed my hand between hers. “Don’t do that. One of us has to keep it together, and I’m the mess, remember?”
A breath of laughter escaped me. “Poor dove,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Such an outcast.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” she asked.
“Yes,” I admitted, sniffing, exhaustion blurring the edges of my vision.
“I don’t like it,” she muttered. “You sound like those people.”
“Those people you met at dinner,” I said, “they grow on you. They’ll start trusting you too.”
Her eyes widened. “So you’re alright with never going back home?”
I pressed my lips together, searching for words to explain that I didn’t miss the place she called home, that it had stopped feeling like mine.
“My home is where the people I love are,” I said instead. “Where you are, Joy.”
At that, she squeezed my hand. “I want you to come back with me, Jan. I know you’ve been here a while, and maybe you’re used to them, but they locked you here. That isn’t right.”
The words made me flinch. I thought for a moment before replying. “Do you remember two years ago, when Sera started visiting Pember & Quill? She came to our house for dinner so often you said she was staying too much?”
Joy frowned at the random mention of my colleague from Ehrfurt. “Yes. I said she was a bit of a snob.”
I smiled faintly at the memory. “Yes, you were very judgemental. But after a few dinners, you realised she wasn’t a snob. You even liked having her around.”
She glanced up at the ceiling again. “It’s not the same here.”
“It is the same,” I said softly. “I know they seem disdainful, grating, even. But if you give them a chance, they can be kind.”
“I’m not staying,” she whispered. “I don’t want to. I’ll leave as soon as Father wakes.”
I exhaled slowly, my heart sinking. Maybe things would change once she’d settled, once she saw what this place truly was.