Chapter 29 Dorian
DORIAN
Dorian spent the morning fighting every instinct he possessed.
His panther paced restlessly, demanding he check on Ivy, protect her, do something besides sit on his hands while she dealt with Sebastian's threat alone.
But her text had been clear, and respecting her boundaries was the first step toward proving to her that he knew the difference.
That resolve lasted until he saw Moira leaving Freya's apothecary with an expression of deep concern.
"Moira." He intercepted her near the fountain, noting the way her hands shook slightly as she clutched a small vial of what looked like healing potion. "Everything alright?"
"Dorian." Her voice was carefully neutral. "I thought you were giving Ivy space."
"I am. But you look like someone who's just witnessed something dangerous, and if it involves her..."
Moira studied his face for a long moment, seeming to weigh her words. "She tested the free-song today."
"The what?"
"Counter-magic to break Sebastian's bindings. She's planning to use it to sever the contracts entirely." Moira's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "The test worked, but barely. The magical backlash nearly knocked her unconscious."
Dorian's vision went red around the edges. "She's planning to attempt advanced dissolution magic alone?"
"Not alone. We'll be there to support her."
"Support." The word came out harsher than intended. "What happens when the backlash is stronger during the actual performance? What happens if Sebastian tries to counter her magic while she's casting?"
"We'll handle it."
"With what? Good intentions and herbal tea?"
Moira's expression hardened. "With protective wards, healing potions, and enough magical knowledge to keep her alive while she frees herself. Which is more than you offered when you decided to handle Sebastian secretly."
The accusation hit home, but Dorian forced himself to focus on the immediate problem. "Where is she planning to perform the free-song?"
"I shouldn't tell you that."
"I'm not asking so I can interfere. I'm asking because if she's determined to do this, we need to make sure she survives it."
"We?"
"I know more about sigil-work and protective magic than anyone else in this town except maybe Lucien. If Ivy's going to risk her life breaking Sebastian's bindings, the least I can do is make sure the stage is properly warded."
Moira was quiet for a long moment, clearly torn between protecting Ivy's privacy and accepting help that might save her life. "She's planning to use the festival stage. In front of the whole town, so Sebastian can't claim she did it in secret or under duress."
"Public dissolution. Smart from a legal standpoint, suicidal from a magical one."
"Can you help without trying to control how she does it?"
The question was fair and cut straight to the heart of his problem. "I can map protective sigils around the performance area. Reinforce the existing wards, add layers that will absorb magical backlash without interfering with her casting."
"And you won't try to talk her out of it? Won't try to convince her to wait for the Council's legal approach?"
"It's her choice." The words tasted like glass, but they were true. "I don't have to like her decision to respect it."
Moira nodded slowly. "Meet me at the Book Nook in an hour. Bring whatever supplies you need for advanced ward-work."
An hour later, Dorian found himself crouched beside the festival stage with Moira, sketching protective patterns in the wooden planking while she consulted a grimoire on dissolution magic theory.
"The free-song targets binding threads specifically," she explained as he carved sigils into the stage supports. "But the magical energy has to go somewhere when the contracts break. Without proper channeling, it could discharge through Ivy herself."
"These absorption runes will redirect excess energy into the ground," Dorian said, adding silver inlay to strengthen the spell matrix. "And these amplification sigils will boost her natural magic without interfering with her casting."
"What about Sebastian? If he tries to counter her magic during the performance?"
"Deflection wards here and here." Dorian pointed to strategic positions around the stage perimeter. "Any hostile magic aimed at the performance area will be redirected back at its source. Or should be."
They worked in focused silence for two hours, layering protective magic into every surface that might come into contact with Ivy's casting.
The result was a complex web of interconnected wards that would shield her from backlash, amplify her natural abilities, and defend against external interference.
"This should work," Moira said, stepping back to survey their handiwork. "The magical protections are comprehensive."
"Should being the operative word. Dissolution magic is unpredictable, especially when it involves contracts as complex as Sebastian's."
"She knows the risks."
"Does she? Or does she just know she'd rather risk death than live under his control?"
Moira's expression softened slightly. "Both, I think. Which is why what you did here matters. You're helping her make her own choice safely instead of trying to make the choice for her."
After Moira left, Dorian remained at the stage, double-checking every sigil and ward-line. The work was precise, technical, and completely inadequate for the storm of guilt and fear raging in his chest.
Ivy was planning to risk everything, and there was nothing he could do to protect her beyond the magical safeguards he'd already put in place. No way to guarantee her safety, no backup plan if things went wrong.
He went over the The Hollow Mercantile and asked Edgar for a piece of paper and pen.
The warlock looked at him skeptically but handed it over before returning to his tasks.
Ivy, I know you need space, and I'm trying to respect that. But I also know you're planning something dangerous tomorrow night, and I can't stay silent about my part in driving you to this choice.
He crumpled up the message and started again on a fresh piece:
I knew Sebastian was in town. I knew he was dangerous, and I kept that information from you because I thought I could handle the situation better than you could. I was wrong about everything, and I'm sorry.
Toss.
I should have told you the truth from the beginning. Should have trusted you to make your own decisions about your safety, your life, your future. Instead, I made the same mistakes Sebastian made, just with better intentions.
Another garbage basket.
He tried a dozen different approaches, a dozen ways to explain the depth of his regret and the magnitude of his respect for her courage. But every attempt felt inadequate, selfish, or manipulative.
Finally, he wrote:
I knew Sebastian was in town when we were together that night.
I knew you were in danger, and I didn't tell you because I thought I could protect you better than you could protect yourself.
I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry for taking away your choice, sorry for betraying your trust, and sorry that my arrogance drove you to risk your life to prove your independence.
You deserve better than what I gave you.
I hope someday you can forgive me, but I understand if you can't.
I love you. That's not an excuse for what I did, just the reason why losing your trust hurts so much.
Be safe tomorrow night. The stage is warded against backlash and hostile magic. You won't face Sebastian's power alone.
-D
He read the message three times, but instead of throwing it away, he tucked it into his pants.
Some apologies were too little, too late. Some truths could only make things worse.
He walked home through the quiet streets, carrying the weight of words he'd never send and promises he'd never get the chance to make.