Chapter 14
Reagan
When Reagan stepped into his foyer, his staff were filing toward the dining room. Conversation halted immediately as every pair of eyes fixed on him, on the mud staining his clothes, the wild tangle of his hair, and the bruise darkening into a deep violet along his jaw.
Heil had done a fine job convincing the court it had been a fair fight.
Barracus watched in silence, waiting. Reagan gave a curt nod to his Defence Commander, and the man moved on.
“Did it work?” Cerridwen asked with that clipped tone she used when she was irritated. She’d wanted Heil to handle the Scions himself, but when Reagan reminded her of what they’d done, she’d reluctantly agreed.
“What worked?” Gwin asked, one brow lifting.
He was hoping to get to a bath before he had to answer for his whereabouts, but alas, he might as well get this over with.
“Those three Scions were spotted by our patrol,” Reagan said, his gaze sliding to her. “We chased them down and handed them over to Malory.”
Jane hadn’t looked away from his face once. When his words sank in, her eyes widened. The silence stretched too long, and Reagan, uncertain what to make of her hesitation, turned for the stairs.
Jane crossed the space to him, her skirt hugging the curve of her hips and a high-collared pine sweater concealing her elegant throat, much to his regret.
He stopped by the black railing as the others murmured and slipped into the dining room, leaving them alone.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his bruised jaw as she turned his face this way and that, searching for other injuries. It wasn’t necessary, yet he let her. He liked the way she worried, so gentle and earnest, so unlike the rough-edged care he’d grown up with.
But then her mouth twisted, anger stirring from a simmer to a boil.
“What in the gods’ names were you thinking?” she demanded, shoving at his chest.
He stumbled back a step. “Jane—”
“You just got your freedom, you idiot,” she snapped, pushing him again, eyes blazing.
He caught her wrists, pinned them gently to her sides, and pulled her in. She struggled at first, tense and trembling.
“Easy, love,” he murmured against her ear. “It’s all right. Everything’s fine.”
“Did you kill them?” she asked, her body giving in.
“No,” he murmured steadily, willing her to read his tone.
She pulled back, her gaze flicking to his jaw. “But they hurt you.”
“No. That was Heil. I asked him to do it.”
Her brow furrowed, lips pressed thin until they nearly vanished. He had the sudden need to pull them back with his teeth.
“You pretended to be hurt too,” she murmured, beginning to understand.
“They were seized by my patrol,” Reagan said, a humourless smile ghosting across his mouth. “But Heil might’ve left their cell door open, and someone had to fetch them. If that someone was outnumbered, well, he might’ve needed to use some force to bring them back. Perfectly reasonable.”
Jane sighed, closing her eyes, and he knew she understood.
“I’m pretty, but not an idiot.”
Her shoulders trembled, a silent laugh. When she spoke again, her voice was harder. “Where are they now?”
“On their way to Pavilion to rot,” Reagan replied, his tone roughening too. It wasn’t enough, and he wagered nothing would ever be. “If you want to know, I can tell you what I did to them.”
Jane met his gaze, deliberating. Something steady flickered in her eyes. “Tell me.”
So he did, with every detail, and she didn’t interrupt, didn’t even flinch. He withdrew his fingers from her, the same ones sullied with Scion blood, and recounted each bone he’d broken and each patch of flesh blistered.
She wasn’t used to violence like he was, and though she hated those men, Reagan doubted she found any satisfaction in what he’d done. He suspected she listened not to enjoy it, but to steel herself. To shed the fragile girl who’d once belonged to a small human town.
“Thank you,” she said when he finished, and shuffled to the dining room.
He went to wash, famished and eager to join his family and savour a rare moment of peace. Of justice delivered by his hand.
When he finally flung into the dining room, Joy startled, and guilt struck him. He was still carrying it since he triggered her that time, not just for Jane’s sake, but for everyone’s.
Curses, Gwin was right. He had a damn leash.
“What did I miss?” he asked, taking his seat.
“Jane was just telling us about their tutoring today,” Finn said as he worked through his roasted chicken.
Joy toyed with her food, seemingly calm. Reagan kept an eye on her regardless.
From his side on the table, Jane met his gaze. In the chandelier’s bright light, the faint circles beneath her eyes were impossible to miss.
“I was saying that Kellan taught us about familiars,” she said, balancing a potato on her fork. “And the lesson was…surprisingly insightful.”
Reagan’s mouth curved as he watched her cheeks flush. He already guessed where this was going.
“Don’t tell me Kellan managed to reveal your familiars already?” Gwinifer asked. “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised. He identified mine rather early.”
Jane raised her brows, clearly curious. “He was explaining the different types of familiars, how they reflect the person’s nature. He also spoke about water familiars…”
Both Reagan and Gwinifer grinned knowingly.
“Did he now?” Gwin asked.
Jane’s lips quirked. It had been too long since he’d seen her even mildly entertained. “He said water familiars are often bound to those who are fluid and sensual…and sometimes, vicious.”
She didn’t say how they were also secretive, felt too deeply and preferred solitude because of it. Probably trying to be sensitive.
“Are you asking what mine is?” Gwin asked, tilting her head.
Jane shrugged. “I just thought it was interesting.”
The table fell into a soft hush as Gwin regarded her. Reagan knew his sister well enough to recognise her dislike of exposing personal things. Unless her trust warranted it.
“It’s a shark,” Gwin said at last, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of wine.
Jane’s head cocked to the side, as if she was considering the revelation.
“That reminds me so much of my teaching years,” Cerridwen mused, her gaze settling on the sisters. “There’s something profoundly meaningful in watching people come to know themselves. Kellan probably mentioned it, but one’s familiar only reveals itself fully right before the twenties are reached.”
Reagan listened, the conversation carrying him back to those evenings when Cerridwen’s lectures were constant during their meals. She rarely taught now, but with the Darlings so attentive, he could tell his Second was quietly relishing the opportunity.
“But the question is,” Reagan cut in, “why was the lesson insightful for you?”
Jane glanced at her sister, waiting to see if she’d speak. Joy slowly turned her head in her direction, seeming to realise that every gaze at the table had turned her way.
“I like cats,” Joy said.
“Cats?” Finn echoed, likely already constructing his theories, eager as ever to read people.
“Yes, cats,” Joy confirmed. “The tutor said they represented this notion of… individual power.”
Cerridwen hummed. “It’s not quite the same as being fond of the creature. I have no particular affection for my deer, yet it comes to me when I wield. Barracus feels the same about his owl.”
He gave a small nod, his attention fixed on his plate. Reagan remembered that Elaith had been here today, as he rarely was, and suspected his Third was only still here for the staff meeting.
Cerridwen went on, “But if they serve two roles for you, that’s a good thing. Knowing it will help you gain control faster.”
“It seems so,” Joy replied, lifting a forkful of chicken to her lips. She seemed, to Reagan’s muted approval, a touch more at ease tonight.
If Joy’s familiar was an earth one, like his, Cerridwen’s and his mother’s, she was a natural protector too.
Resolute and forthright in word and actions.
Some claimed their access to mana came more readily because they were grounded in their own element at all times, which explained why they were often stronger wielders.
It was a partial truth at best, one that didn’t account for how this girl could wield eight times her weight, but it was something.
“Did he help you the same?” Reagan asked Jane, and the table stilled.
Her fingers tightened around her fork. “Nothing conclusive,” she said, apparently not wanting to expand.
Silence lingered until Finn cleared his throat. “Since we’ll have a guest for the staff meeting after dinner, I should share some news now.”
Gwin exhaled loudly.
“We must decide what to disclose in the meeting,” Barracus said.
None of them wanted to speak with Varian there, and none pretended otherwise.
“The paper announced an interesting piece of news today,” Finn continued. “The Scion Order’s petition isn’t moving forward. It had enough signatures for debate, but was rejected by magisters at court.”
“How sad,” Gwinifer murmured, twirling her dagger idly over the table.
“A reliable friend told me there’ve been small uprisings in Ashenagth,” Finn added, “though nothing official has reached the news.”
“Ravenna wouldn’t stomach the spectacle,” Reagan said, thinking of the Lady of Ashenagth. “She’d cover any scandal that might damage the Order’s image.”
“Does Ashenagth support the Order?” Jane asked, likely recalling what she’d heard.
“Openly,” Reagan replied. “Madden’s family used to have the means to fund their agenda before they were left penniless. Now he has the estate’s funding.”
“And that much influence over its Lord and Lady?” she pressed.
He inclined his head in a quiet nod.
“Gwin thinks Madden is Ravenna’s lover,” Finn added with a crooked grin.
Jane huffed a laugh.
“I know they are. I saw them together once,” Gwin said. “Her union with Balthazar was purely political. Madden might as well be the real Lord of Ashenagth.”
“Perhaps Atkus could return to the relevant part of this report,” Barracus interjected.