Chapter 51
Reagan
Laughter cracked through the post’s cramped chamber until Reagan found himself giving in to it.
“He kept going on about finding a woman in the human lands, said he wanted to train her,” Freddy slurred in Reagan’s direction, ale shining on the rim of his cup. “I told him it would take a miracle for any good-looking redhead to give him the time of day.”
Reagan’s teeth scraped together, but the subtle reaction was buried beneath the dim magelights. Freddy was far too deep into his cups to notice, but Heil did. The Captain’s eyes closed for a moment.
“I’d guard those remarks if I were you.” Heil’s tone carried the sort of patience reserved for men who ought to know better.
He should, yet Reagan’s mood was far too good to let Freddy’s drunken rambling sour it. Even sober he decided to tolerate it.
“Well, it wasn’t actually my saying,” Freddy said with a somewhat apologetic look.
Finn, who had been lounging on another chair, leaning his temples on his fingers, frowned. “Yes, it was.”
The group laughed again. They had dragged Reagan to the Hall’s post to boast about the win of the day: escorting his cousin off the premises.
Heil offered him a glass of ember-dark liquor.
Reagan shook his head. “Not for me.”
At this time of day, he would have welcomed ale, especially given the dryness scraping the back of his throat. But he’d kept away from it for days now, more than occupied in the company of the one person who had become precisely what he needed.
“Women are miracles indeed,” Heil mused, raising his cup. “Shall we toast our future Lady for this one?”
“You probably should,” Reagan said with the same smirk that had stayed with him these past few days.
“To the Mage Lady,” Freddy called, raising his glass. “May Zara bless her and keep her from knowing that Reagan cannot grow a full beard.”
Some of them barked a laugh. Chairs scraped. Someone nearly dropped a bowl of peanuts.
“Wasted dimwit,” Heil muttered, rubbing his brow.
“To you, Freddy,” Reagan said, lifting a random cup, “and may Zara grant you something worth boasting about besides your meagre beard.”
The pack of drunks roared. The loyal defenders of his city enjoyed the end of their shifts sprawled across their chairs, leaning against walls, shovelling peanuts into their mouths.
“At least ask for a stronger resistance to ale,” Finn added, smirking at Freddy. “Skies, this is embarrassing.”
Freddy snorted, going on about something Reagan didn’t care to pay attention to.
He let the outpost’s noise wash over him. He didn’t remember the last time everything had gone so well. But he had already lingered longer than intended.
Reagan stood, giving Freddy a strong tap on the back. “I’ll leave before you say something you’ll regret.”
A few drunken chuckles followed him as he passed through the clusters of leaning bodies near the rails. He nodded at those who noticed him, then vanished from their sight.
Reagan flung to the Hall and strode toward the training room. He found it empty, and so he angled toward the study, pausing when he spotted Gwin in a nearby room.
“Have you seen Jane?” he asked.
His sister spun at the sound of him, Astrid beside her giving a small head bow. They were playing cards.
“I saw her with Joy, some time ago.” Gwin smirked. “Maybe she regretted her decision and ran.”
“Thank you, sister,” he deadpanned, feeling a sharp ache settled between his eyes. “If you see her, tell her I’m in our chamber.”
He pressed on. The study was empty as well. If Jane had finished her practice, she would be bathing or reading. Perhaps she was in his room already, where they’d been sleeping since her sister was in hers. If he had it his way, she would’ve moved in permanently by now.
Reagan flung again, muscles weary with fatigue. But when he arrived at his chamber, it wasn’t the person he expected waiting inside.
Joy was there, perched at the corner table in the antechamber, eyes locking onto him. She rose, her posture rigid. Not unusual for her.
“I was looking for you. Fennel couldn’t find you where I told him to go,” she said.
Reagan frowned. “Who is Fennel?”
“My cat.”
“Your cat?” His mouth twitched. “Your familiar?”
She nodded, and he found it amusing that she named it. It was not a pet or sentient.
“I’m here. What is it?” He strode to his bedchamber to remove the gold chain he wore at his wrist and set it on the dresser.
“Jane needs your help,” she said.
Alarm pricked at him.
“Where is she?” he asked, a tad more demanding. Reagan scanned the next chamber, his washroom, but there was no one there. “Joy, where is she?”
She fidgeted with her hands, breath quickening.
Where was her relic? “After the Audience, she asked me to tell you she had to go with a man and help him. She wanted my necklace for flinging, because she cannot wield enough alone. I offered to go with her, but she said I had to stay and tell you, but you weren’t here, and I think I should have… ”
“Did she tell you where she was going?” he asked, trying not to assume the worst.
Her mouth closed, and she shook her head. Tension gathered in his body. “She didn’t say where she went. Only that she had to leave. She told me you could use the flask you made together.”
A panicked spiral coiled in his chest. His hands clenched into fists, and he spun, bracing himself against the wall, chest rising with each heated breath.
He should have anticipated this after announcing her, should have prepared for someone to come right away.
“Fuck,” he cursed, dispatching his familiar to fetch his staff.
He tore through his bedroom, flinging drawers open, rifling through the scattered clothing.
“Do you know where she is?” Joy called from the doorway.
A low growl filled his head. “I’m going to find out.”
“What?” Gwin asked, sauntering inside the chamber. “Did you find her?”
“She’s gone,” he said.
“Jane?” Cerridwen entered next, followed by Finn and Barracus.
“She had to leave with a man and asked me to warn Reagan,” Joy answered. “I couldn’t find any of you. It’s been exactly thirty-six minutes since she left.”
“I was away from the Hall,” Cerridwen murmured under her breath.
Reagan’s ears rang, his pulse loud in his head. He shouldn’t have gone to the post. She should have had a new patroller guarding her already. And now…he couldn’t find the bloody flask.
“Reagan, what is the plan?” Barracus’s measured voice cut through his thoughts.
He froze a fraction, eyes scanning the disorder of his drawers. The thing had to be...
Then he commanded the summoning charm, and a slender, red flask floated into his hand, smaller than the span of his middle finger.
“I can track her,” Reagan replied. “A few nights ago, I asked to draw her blood so I could have this while we aren’t bonded. This is fresh.”
Once they were bonded, the forehead sigil would allow them to find one another at any moment, but only once the ritual was complete. She had lost her location relic to the siren, and since they would count on the sigil, he hadn’t given her another one.
“Did she say why she left?” Finn asked, leaning toward Joy.
“She said she needed to help the man,” Joy answered, fidgeting with her hands.
Reagan sucked in a sharp breath. This could not be happening again. But of course it was.
Distantly, he noticed Finnegan stepping closer to Joy, eyeing her tapping fingers and putting himself between her and Reagan.
He grounded himself, knowing his access was pressing against everyone, digging his familiar claws into the dirt in his mind, forcing a cool head to rise above the raw fear prowling him.
“What I need,” he rasped firmly, “are patrollers already searching the city. The estate. Warn every outpost, especially the ones that border Ashenagth.” His gaze swept over Gwin and Barracus before turning to his Second. “Cerridwen, get me a map, hot water, and a location draught.”
Cerridwen hurried out while Gwin and Barracus flung to the outposts to send orders. Finn cleared the antechamber table, pushing aside the remnants of an abandoned banquet.
The flask seemed to warm in Reagan’s hand. Her blood. He remembered Hildegard filling the glass just a few nights ago and Jane watching him with a small smile on her face.
“You can track her,” Finn said, moving closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Whoever took her doesn’t know that. We’ll get her back.”
Reagan nodded, staring at the blood, but his mind refused to settle. Over half an hour had passed. Thirty-six minutes, and it took one single second to—
Clodagh Foley, the hybrid redhead, hanging on his gate flashed into his mind.
His power gathered, urging him. Reagan forced himself to breathe through the flux.
“Where’s the draught?” he barked, spotting Cerridwen approaching, hands full.
She stretched the map across the table while he poured Jane’s blood into the bowl of hot water, letting the liquid meld with the red streaks.
It had been too long since he had used blood this way. The method was vile, but sometimes leaving a trace behind was safer than carrying a relic that could be stolen or removed.
“Will it show you where she is?” Joy asked, her voice strained.
“Yes,” Finn replied steadily. “It will mark the last location of the owner at the time of casting.”
Reagan swirled the water with his finger while uncorking the vial with his teeth, and let it spill into the bowl. Steam curled upward, tangling with the scent of iron.
It had to be enough.
“All outposts are being warned,” Gwin said, moving around the table as he spilled liquid across the corners of the paper. “Barracus will send instructions to locate the Lady. Heil will report back once they do. Do you have the most likely location?”
She wasn’t Lady yet. If she were already the Lady of Mountheim, he would be able to pinpoint her instantly.
He pressed the soaked map flat, hands bracing on either side while the paper bled red from corner to centre, drying immediately where she wasn’t, narrowing their options, until a single wet dot appeared over one town. Yeary, a sparsely populated town in Ashenagth.
Reagan remembered the name. It was one of the marked locations by the Elven Lords.
“It seems your uncle was right,” Gwin muttered to Finn.
Reagan looked at her. “Send two squads there. I’m going ahead.”
His eyes met Finn’s as he tapped the location on the map, and Finnegan’s confirmation was wordless.
They flung and landed in a clearing with tall grass, surrounded by trees. It was already night-time. The wind carried the scent of sweet greenery and rusted metal.
They ran hard between untended vegetation, looking urgently for any sign of her. His rapid breathing filled his ears.
She had to be close.
Before long they caught sight of a solitary stone building beyond some inactive train tracks, weathered and large, like an abandoned forge.
Reagan slowed just enough to catch any sound, his every sense straining for the faint glow of lights deep on the second floor.
Battle mages surged one by one behind them, moving silently through the field in their direction. But when they crossed the threshold and swept every floor, the building was empty.