Chapter 65
Jane
As I entered the padded room again, I made no move to withdraw my arm from Reagan’s waist, and he didn’t loosen his hold around my shoulders.
Part of me wanted to stay behind and not return to the mansion. Another part wanted to see this through. To be certain the captives were freed. To see Madden fall the way I had watched Cahir bleed.
I had bled him, not Reagan. I had known it would happen, just not by my hand.
Easy as boiling water, Reagan had described.
Cahir should have listened when I’d told him to run.
There was too much fire in my veins to remember everything clearly. I had only one thought then. I only wanted that sick bastard off me and burning. And when his face blurred together with Caius’ and those awful eyes looked down at me, I had wanted to end him. To end all of them.
We were back in the corridor, but this time it was lined with battle mages. Explosions thundered from above, the sound rolling down the stairs as the squads marched through it.
The crack of splintering wood echoed where it seemed like a few Scions were already engaged with battle mages.
As we reached the ground floor, Reagan gestured once to Heil, who caught the signal.
The Scions in our way scurried out of sight. Reagan took one glanced around the mansion’s corridor, and his power expanded outward. Doors and windows slammed shut, the ward sealing all exits and trapping the Scions inside.
Battle mages poured from everywhere. Furniture lay overturned, a chandelier swayed overhead, and dust hung thick in the air, stinging my throat.
Few Scions attempted to flee, others were already bound, pinned in place by translucent bindings that gleamed faintly as they strained against them. The ground floor unfolded like a slow-moving battlefield.
We made way for the captives emerging from the rooms, frightened bodies and gaunt faces guided by battle mages toward the waiting portal underground.
We were barely needed. All the squads moved in complete organization.
It was oddly satisfying to see so few of the Scions attempt to fight back, and those who did fell swiftly, the prolonged exposure to the bloodbane likely the cause.
My focus narrowed on the staircase and we pressed forward.
On the next floor, I led us through the widest corridor of the mansion, searching for Madden as Reagan held back the men in our path. Predictably, his rooms were in the most lavishly adorned space.
The man Reagan identified as Madden’s shield stood at the doorway, barring our advance.
“Madden might already be trying to shuffle threads,” I warned Reagan as the Scion glanced between us.
“Can you find him?” Reagan urged low. “I’ll deal with this one.”
“I’ll try.”
I pivoted behind him, staying within Reagan’s ward. He taunted the Scion who was broader than he was. My eyes closed, and I let the eagle go, finding that dreadful silver thread from the Order’s head, along with the ones tangled close by.
Accessing the Sight was as naturally as breathing now. It had become instinct to reach for the threads, especially Madden’s.
Static and loud grunts crackled through the corridor where we stood, yet I kept searching for a disturbance in the threads, for a single strand of time disturbed.
Tracing Madden’s thread backwards, I saw him bark orders, saw him jolt awake at the explosion, saw him moments before, asleep.
Further along the thread, the sheets shifted. Someone had been beneath him, someone I hadn’t seen leave. In the gloom of the Sight, another thread quivered near me, warming suddenly.
“Reagan, we need to enter the room now,” I warned.
There was a rough grunt in his general direction. “Just a second.”
But we had no more time. The other thread was warmer, brighter, and I knew Giddeon was walking in it. Tempering with it. He would have to find the exact moment the ambush started.
He would have to find my thread.
The sound of a door shattering from its hinges ripped me from the Sight and back into the mansion.
Giddeon sat on the edge of his bed, clad only in loose trousers, a faint sheen brightening the veins beneath his skin. He barely had time to react before Reagan pounced, forcing him to his knees and pinning him there.
I could see Madden’s arms wrenched behind his back, his skin shifting from power-lit to an angry blood-red, blistering beneath Reagan’s grip. The man grunted, and a muffled welp echoed from the corner of the room.
I strode inside the chamber, passing the shield Scion who lay sprawled at the entrance.
“Leave,” Reagan told the woman who edged away from the far side of the bed.
She hesitated, then fled without a word.
“Did he alter it?” Reagan asked, keeping Madden pinned on his knees.
“No,” I said. “We caught him in time.”
Madden’s blistered face twisted into a sneer.
Reagan’s power flooded the room until my own swam in it, as if he were siphoning straight into me as well. He looked smug and slightly dishevelled as he smoothed his hair and sauntered to my side.
My pulse roared in my ears as I stared at Giddeon Madden before us, straining against Reagan’s hold, veins standing stark along his neck.
My chosen grinned beside me.
“I hope you enjoy Pavilion,” Reagan said coolly.
“You will have plenty of time to reflect on your failure.” He met Madden’s glare.
“You know, you had me wondering why you wouldn’t negotiate for her release.
Then you told me you knew she could divine.
She is likely the greatest threat to a time weaver who has been messing with Fate, isn’t she?
Which is why she was worth more to you than anything I could offer. ”
Though I followed his logic, there was too much anger burning inside me to absorb it fully.
“You’re done, Giddeon,” he said.
“You think this ends me?” Madden rasped, forcing a laugh.
“The Order doesn’t end with me. It is ingrained in our people, and it will prevail.
There are many in this country who will fight to their last breath before they allow your filth to rule it.
” He smiled then. Truly unhinged. “In my rest, I will be waiting for the next who rises to free us all.”
“We will make sure you wait for a very long time,” I said, savouring the resentment flaring in his eyes. “And I will be watching every move from now on.”
The sight of him rendered helpless made my blood sing, even if his words unsettled me.
I stepped forward and looked down at him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I drove my knee into his middle.
It was indulgent and petty, but I didn’t care.
He grunted, trying to fold, but he was trapped upright, forced to feel every pulse of pain. Not nearly enough pain. Not compared to what he had inflicted.
“This is for every innocent you ever abused,” I said, driving my knee into him once more. “And this is for myself. I hope you drown in Pavilion.”
Giddeon could not turn away, his jaw clenched tight.
I stepped back, winding an arm around Reagan’s waist. He turned us toward the door, leaving the former leader bound on the floor. He paused only long enough to add, “Send our regards to the associates you left rotting below.”