Chapter 23
Jane
Joy was sound asleep in our room, her soft snores steady as I left.
All I wanted was to pass out in bed, but if I stayed, I wouldn’t sleep again. Between the nonsensical images and the memory of that night, I would rather stay awake. Lately, nothing kept me awake better than moving my body to music.
My bare feet made no sound as I crossed toward the second level ballroom, only for the smooth corridor beneath me to vanish.
Cobbles. Cold and uneven stone pressed into my soles.
I stopped short, blinking as the Hall’s corridor dissolved into a narrow alley.
Buildings loomed close on either side and…
people moved past me without faces. I stepped across the slick ground, the murmur of voices reaching me as if cotton filled my ears.
I could make out the shape of a market, stalls and bodies pressed too close together, yet my vision felt unfocused.
There was no escaping this one, not when I was already awake.
One dark-haired man stood tall far ahead, half concealed by the sea of bodies milling about. It looked like Reagan. I waded through the crowd in his direction, but there was no real resistance, only noise. I deviated from the people anyway, trying to make my way alongside a brick wall.
No. Not brick. Stone, smooth and cold beneath my palms. I spun just as darkness pricked at the edges of my vision. The afternoon light, the wet cobbled street, the murmurs of the crowd all faded away.
It was the Hall’s corridor around me again, empty and dim.
I blinked, waiting to be somewhere else, but I wasn’t. Not asleep. Not in an alley. But in Mountheim Hall, in the corridor outside my chamber, staring at the sconce.
It took a minute or two before I began walking again, feeling the rug prickle beneath my soles.
It was happening, just as Laerune had warned me. The visions were coming to me outside of sleep, the same fractured scenes returning day after day. It was strange to realise my ring had been preventing all of this.
Ahead, the flames along the walls licked at the gloom, guiding the corridor toward the staircase. I kept my steps slow and cautious, skimming every corner like I was bracing for another sight to crowd my eyes.
That street hadn’t been familiar to me. It could have existed anywhere, judging by the buildings. And yet I had to admit, reluctantly, that I hadn’t really looked at it closely. In fact, on all the past nights, I’d done exactly what Laerune had warned me against.
I’d been running. Avoiding.
The ballroom felt colder tonight, lit by soft candlelight along the walls rather than the chandeliers overhead. I crossed to the piano, my fingers brushing the polished lid, and the instrument answered with a faint hum.
A gelid breeze scented faintly of pine drifted through the open balcony doors.
Open?
My gaze followed it to the figure standing at the railing, charcoal robes billowing around his ankles. Reagan watched the sleeping city in silence.
A warning stirred in my mind. This could be another vision. I wiggled my toes against the marble floor, noting its cool, smooth surface, the wind tugging at my own robe.
Real. It was real.
Gods. I would go mad if I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
Shuddering, I looked to the balcony again, wondering why he was here.
As I crossed the threshold of glass and frame, Reagan turned.
His robe caught the wind, revealing a bare, chiselled chest and the angry scar cutting across one side, where his heartstone used to be.
A fine dusting of hair traced down from his navel, his lower muscles tapering into angular lines before disappearing beneath low-slung trousers.
I would never tire of looking at Reagan.
Behind him, the night sky was veiled, the moon swallowed by clouds, leaving only the faint candlelight to wash the balcony in greyish-yellow light.
Then I met his eyes, stormy and tense, and my thoughts scattered all over again, the warmth inside me snuffed out by that single look.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, moving closer to where he stood near the railing.
“I needed to speak with you. Alone.” His voice was taut, his gaze unyieldingly stern.
“You vanished after dinner,” I murmured. “How did you know I’d be here?”
He exhaled slowly. “Because you are not hard for me to predict.”
My lips pressed thin, though it was no surprise that he knew. Reagan gave me space, but it didn’t mean he would stay away.
“What is it?” I asked.
Power rippled through the air around him. His access was so dense now, spilling from him as if it were second nature.
“I’m out of time,” he said, his voice low, rough. “I’ve been avoiding some of the magisters for weeks, and they know it. Quarrel finally had the nerve to summon me after pestering us with letters.”
No. It was too soon. We needed more time.
“What do you have to give him?” I asked.
“I need to confirm who will take on Ladyship in two months,” he said. “If I don’t give him a name, I’ll be forced to invite potential matches to the Hall. And get to know them.”
I breathed in, because that thought… It brought a wave of nausea to my stomach.
Reagan waited, his eyes so hard they pinned me in place.
“I need more time,” I murmured. “My exams haven’t shown anything yet. And I haven’t wielded alone.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I spoke to Hildegard after dinner.”
He knew, then, that I had nothing to show. That the results from my last exam still amounted to a pitiful number.
“I can manage divination if Laerune siphons to me,” I admitted. “And I have seen things when I’m awake now. Visions.”
“But not at will yet?” he asked wearily.
My shoulders lifted in a heavy inhale. I shook my head.
“Jane,” he whispered, his cool hands cupping my shoulders. “It doesn’t change anything for me. I was ready to give them your name, but I knew I should ask you first. Tell me that I should have given it to them already. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing because you would agree to this anyway.”
I wanted to. But trust, in this, would be blind faith, and I had never been fond of relying on blind faith. “What if I agree and never manage to wield?”
“I spoke with Evenwood too. She told me you have blockers because you’re untrained, but it’s nothing you can’t overcome with time. The problem is we’re out of time. I have to give them an answer or invite the other women over.”
Tension gathered at the corners of his mouth as his hands rose to cradle my neck. “I know the demand isn’t fair. I know what I’m asking. But you’ll have time to learn. I just need to give them your name now, but you’ll have time.” He studied my face. “Say yes.”
Say yes.
I did trust him. Yet when I opened my mouth, the lump in my throat thickened, and no sound emerged.
If I failed, Reagan would carry all the responsibilities that I wouldn’t be able to, all the weight of the burden. My insides rioted at the thought.
I stepped back. “Seraphyn told me what is expected of a Lady according to your oath. Protect the realm. Guide the people to prosperity. Wield great power with wisdom. Act for the good of the many.” I sighed. “How can I say yes to that?”
“We’ll start with different responsibilities,” he said swiftly, as if he’d thought about this. “We’ve worked together for months. We’ve managed just fine.”
I shook my head before I even realised it, watching him step closer again.
“Buy us more time,” I asked. “I need more time. They can’t really force you, can they? Mountheim is progressing.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw as Reagan looked out over the city behind us.
“They will only see where I’m failing, not where I’m succeeding.
There’s still unrest in the Highlands. They believe that if I’m bonded, the land will recover faster.
” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of him. He hated this.
“And will it?” I asked. “Do you think it would get better? If I became your…”
I bit the inside of my cheek and cursed myself for the hesitation. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“I don’t care,” he snapped. “If it takes a year or a month for the soil to improve. I don’t have enough in me to care about that. You shouldn’t care either, not about that or whether they like you.”
“I don’t need them to like me.” Though that would make things easier.
“I don’t need them to like me, but I need them to trust me, to trust my competence, don’t I?
Why would anyone welcome me? You told me yourself that you need a credible staff.
Everything I’ve managed so far has been luck.
I can’t offer you anything, so I think that’s rather relevant—”
He gasped a single outraged laugh. My eyes widened in disbelief.
“Sorry. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you underestimate yourself quite so spectacularly,” he said.
The humour faded quickly. “You’re reluctant because of your access.
I understand that. But you’re fixated on this one issue and forgetting why you’ll make a formidable Lady.
You’ll defend the estate the way you defend yourself.
You’re clever, and far more compassionate than I am. You have a great deal to offer.”
Heat flooded my face.
Reagan loosed a breath that seemed to stretch forever.
His tone was cooler as he continued. “I wish I had more time to be with you and practise with you. I wish you had more time to learn in peace like everyone else. I wish you’d never had that cursed ring.
I have enough wishes to fill a bowl, and none of them will change this. ”
The cold air eased the heat from my cheeks. He wasn’t wrong, and I tried to think objectively.
“What do we tell Malory?” I asked.
Reagan’s eyes were thunderous, cutting past me and drifting toward the sky as if searching for the answer there.
We were speaking of bonding ourselves, and to me, it should have looked like a marriage.
My chest swelled at the thought. I’d never thought of anyone as my…
husband before. Yet there was nothing romantic in this.
Whoever he bonded with would probably be weighed and challenged by magisters and mages alike.
Power writhed from him. Reagan wore the same expression he had when he couldn’t find why the wards were faltering. Now, with his access recovered, I could feel that apprehension press against my skin like a dense cloud.
Choosing me had felt like a decisive moment for him. Maybe I had been the right choice then, the last person he got to love before the curse stole that chance from him. But I didn’t have to be now.
A sinking feeling filled me, and it hurt in a way I couldn’t ignore.
He could choose someone else. Someone better. He had an entire damn list of names. People who wouldn’t leave him looking so strained. Women whose bond might give the land a better chance to recover.
“I need a moment to think,” he said finally. “I’ll come up with something to tell her.”
I fought the urge to catch the folds of his robe and tug him closer, to indulge myself.
Just once more.
“You don’t have to,” I murmured.
He peered down at me then, unmoving. I thought he might be waiting for me to offer some creative solution. I could do that.
So I swallowed, forcing myself to say it, draining every trace of emotion from my face.
“I can’t do this. I don’t want to choose you.”