Chapter 32
Reagan
Reagan’s breath sawed through his chest as his feet struck the sand, the open wound in his arm stinging from the salt.
He and Finnegan dragged themselves from the surf, their damp trousers clinging to their legs.
They could barely breathe, still rattled by the keening calls that had followed them to the shore.
Iqbal’s laughter rolled across the sand. “We almost thought a few water beasts had defeated the Mage Lord.”
Reagan sucked in a breath, his voice steeped in bitterness. “I don’t remember ever having to fight my way to a dinner before, least of all against sirens.” He let every ounce of menace drip from his words. “It almost makes me feel…unwelcome.”
Eldar stepped forward, taking position beside his bonded as if recognizing a threat. “Water beasts obey poorly, Reagan. You cannot blame us for that.”
Reagan lowered his chin, a slow hum vibrating through him, the growl of a familiar ringing in his ears. “I could have sworn I saw them avoiding you and coming straight for us.”
Eldar’s pale-blue complexion leeched nearly white beneath the dusk light. “Are you implying we tried to harm you?”
Reagan held the Elven Lord’s glare, close to saying fuck this alliance and getting Finn and—
His gaze swept over the shore. Behind the Elven Lords stood Anife and Maith, faces wary as they watched him. Arun hovered farther away, scanning the waters. And no one else.
“Even the spiders. There were far too many of them,” Finn added.
“Where is Jane?” Reagan cut in.
“Your emissary hasn’t arrived,” Arun said promptly. “She is still in the water.”
Fear numbed Reagan’s body. He spun toward the sea. The surface lay smooth, deceptively calm. No sign of anyone still swimming.
He dashed back to the shallows, water splashing around his shins. Power gathered in his fingers and arms until his hands balled into fists.
Finn reached him, his eyes frantic as they scanned the water.
“You left her,” Reagan muttered, his gaze searching.
Finnegan didn’t respond. Reagan had relied on him, and he’d left her. He would have to jump in again. The water was filled with sirens, and she could be—
“Reagan.” Arun’s voice carried behind them.
He turned to find the elf pointing toward the darkened shaped of jagged rocks jutting above the water.
Reagan’s eyes narrowed, and his body nearly gave under its own weight.
Jane clung to the stone, circling it, slipping against the rough surface. When she lifted her head and found them on the island, he thought he saw her mouth open.
She was not far. He stepped back, studying the slab of rock to plan his fling.
But Finn reached him first. “Wait. She’s coming.”
He was right. Jane had already lowered herself from the rock, scanning the sea around her, and slid into the water again. Reagan searched for anything moving.
Distantly, as he forced himself to wait for her to come to shore, he realised that this was what he was asking of her. To willingly put herself in danger just to remain at his side.
She swam, arm after arm, her movements sluggish, carving a tired path to him. She reached the shallows at last, her feet finding sand, and waded through the waves.
Jane’s eyes met his for a moment. He thought he saw her inhale deeply, cheeks flushed and bright.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breathless and cool. “I had to dodge a siren.”
Reagan’s blood iced again. He very nearly struck Iqbal and Eldar outright with the lightning that would have been effortless to summon.
“You looked so delicate stepping off that rock,” Anife observed with delight. “Adorable.”
“Was she hiding?” Iqbal murmured behind them.
Jane reached him, and he could only meet her eyes. His hand dropped instinctively to the small of her back, a silent attempt to steady her, though it didn’t seem she needed it. She rested her hands on her hips before facing Anife.
“I wish I had been more delicate,” she said with a rueful laugh, lifting her bloody calf, “but that siren got the better of me.”
She’d gotten better at lying, albeit not to him. Still, his lips curled as he looked down at her.
“Not bad for the first time,” he murmured.
“Not bad,” Anife echoed.
“Was it your first siren?” Arun asked, and she nodded. “Welcome to Banfgaard.”
They moved further from the shore, closer to the elven gathering.
Jane was still panting softly but uninjured.
Her gaze slid to the shallow cuts on Reagan’s arm where claws had raked his skin.
Finn bore a similar mark along his side.
None were deep, though they bled enough to stain their wet clothes.
“Are you all right?” Reagan murmured.
She nodded without meeting his eyes.
Iqbal’s voice intruded once more, airy and self-satisfied. “There is only one rule for our challenges: make it to the end.”
“Don’t you think your games are becoming reckless, Uncle?” Finn asked, features tight. “Our court doesn’t blend in water.”
“Our court,” Eldar repeated, the words rolling with disdain. “Your mother will love to hear that.”
The sudden stillness in Finn betrayed his unease. Reagan doubted his mother would even be here. And, at the moment, he couldn’t care less.
“I hear most men piss themselves in front of a siren,” Jane said, casual and crude.
Reagan blinked at her, unused to hearing that word from her mouth. She folded her arms over her chest, as if aware of her soaked dress clinging to her body.
Eldar chuckled, and the tension broke. Anife and Arun’s laughter followed.
Reagan had promised to try not to intervene on Finn’s behalf. She hadn’t.
Anife leaned into her brother, her drenched dress plastered to her shape. “The ocean is filled with male piss,” she observed, flicking a strand of wet hair behind her shoulder. “I would rather not dry off completely if we have a second swim.”
“We should continue then,” Eldar said.
It took Reagan a moment to register the words. He followed Eldar’s gaze to the far side of the island. The wall of trees revealed no structure, no place for dinner. Only shadowed wilderness.
“So your dinner is not here?” Reagan asked, eyeing the rocky path leading toward the forest.
“I told you it was about a fifty-minute swim,” Iqbal said. “Or it should be, if you weren’t so slow.”
Reagan realised then that they had swum only half the distance.
Beside him, Jane attempted to quiet her panting while taking in their surroundings. They stood on a small island between the mainland and the final destination. Vassar Island was still a blurred shape on the horizon.
His lungs still burned from the endless pull and kick.
“You overestimate how much I enjoy a challenge,” Reagan said.
“And given that I was nearly pissing myself in front of a siren, I’m not eager to jump back in.
” He decided to play along with Jane’s approach, peering down at her over his shoulder.
“What do you think, Darling? They say we just need to make it to the end.”
His favourite smile spread through her heavy breathing. “I think we have tricks too.”
Power receded from his limbs. Reagan looked to Finn, who offered a quick nod. He wouldn’t come. Of course he wouldn’t.
Reagan jerked his chin toward the opposite shore, and they began trudging there, passing the elves. “We’ll see you there.”
“Resistance is hard to build,” Eldar remarked, as if taunting him.
“Iqbal said there’s only one rule to your challenge,” Reagan reminded him. “Make it to the end.”
The moment he placed his hand on Jane’s lower back, eyes fixed on a landing point on the distant island, Reagan flung them.
Vassar Island was so dark he could barely see her, at least near the water. He loosened a sphere of magelight above them, illuminating the empty stretch of beach. Farther up the sand, a blur of lights and the low sound of chatter marked their destination.
“Thank you,” she breathed, water dripping from them both.
And then Jane’s face fell, eyes lowering toward his grip on the back of her dress. The thought of releasing her now was unthinkable, so he didn’t. Especially when her breathing quickened, and she began panting through her mouth.
“What is it?” he murmured, brushing hair from her face, looking for an injury.
She shook her head, clutching his arms and drawing in a deep breath.
Understanding struck him then. She had forced the panic down, held herself together until she felt safe, and only now allowed the calm to slip.
“Breathe, love.” He kept his voice soft, steady. She obeyed. “You did well.”
A sharp inhale shuddered through her. “I thought…”
When she didn’t finish, he cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Her eyes were too bright.
His hands slid into her damp curls, coaxing warmth back into her skin. A whisper of his mana skimmed her neck, and he felt her pulse begin to slow.
He dried her, his power warming her inch by inch as it swept down her body.
Reagan didn’t remember lowering himself, but suddenly he was kneeling, examining her calf. Bruises marred her ankle, like the imprint of fingers.
She’d been caught.
He touched the marks, massaging around them until the charm dulled the ache and soreness.
“How did you do it?” he asked, looking up at her.
Her hand rose to her chest. There was nothing at her neck now, but she held the truth-telling hairpin in her fist. “My necklace. It distracted her. And then I struck her gills with this.”
No pride in her words, even though she should have felt some. He just kept staring at her, letting himself admire her and trying to—
Fuck trying.
Gently, he lifted her ankle and pressed his mouth to the bruise, feeling the hot skin, pressing another kiss to her calf, to the inside of her knee.
Jane exhaled, steadying herself on his shoulders. He mastered himself before letting his mouth move higher up her leg and was rewarded with the steady pace of her pulse.
“Why didn’t you rub the necklace?” he asked quietly. The location relic would have pinpointed her location to him.
“There was no time.”
Swearing under his breath, Reagan set her bare feet back onto the sand and made quick work of drying himself, summoning his shirt with a flick of his fingers.
The salty wind offered him clarity he wished he didn’t need.
“We haven’t even started talking yet,” she murmured, tucking the hairpin away, under her skirt.
“No, we haven’t.” He nodded toward the dark ocean. “But now we can. I want to find out what would be worth trading for those spies.” He couldn’t help but take her in again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. I’m warm and dry.” She gestured to his forearm, still streaked with crimson. “You’re the one still bleeding.”
He began sealing the wound as she spoke. “Do we wait here?”
“No. Let’s go,” he said, casting one last look at the water, as though he might spot Finn from here. “And hope to Godric that Iqbal drowns before they reach the shore.”