CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The narrow spiral staircase to Elder Lina's tower feels endless as I climb, my hand trailing along the cold stone wall for balance.
Each step echoes softly in the confined space, mixing with the sound of my slightly labored breathing.
I've been putting off this visit for days, but the diamond bracelet on my wrist—the one that somehow protected me from Jax's mental assault during the ceremony—deserves proper gratitude.
Plus, I'm curious about her cryptic words. "Make the choice you already know in your heart." What did she mean by that?
The scent of herbs and something else—something that tastes like old magic—grows stronger as I near the top. When I finally reach the heavy wooden door, I pause to catch my breath before knocking.
"Come in, child," Lina's voice calls before my knuckles even touch the wood.
I push open the door and step inside, immediately struck by the overwhelming sensory assault of her chambers.
Crystals of every color catch the afternoon light streaming through narrow windows, while dried herbs hang in bundles from the rafters.
Ancient-looking instruments I can't begin to identify clutter every available surface.
But what stops me cold is the familiar figure standing beside Lina's workbench.
"Knox?" I blink in surprise, taking in his tense posture and the way his green eyes dart between me and Elder Lina. "What are you doing here?"
For a heartbeat, he looks like a man caught in something he shouldn't be doing. His jaw tightens, and I catch the almost imperceptible glance he exchanges with Lina before his expression smooths into careful neutrality.
"Just catching up with Elder Lina," he says, his voice perhaps a shade too casual. "Discussing some... ceremonial protocols for the wedding preparations."
The explanation feels thin, but given my own web of secrets, I'm hardly in a position to press for details. Still, something about his sudden appearance here, combined with that look he shared with Lina, makes my stomach clench with unease.
"I should let you two talk," Knox continues, already moving toward the door with obvious relief. "I'll see you at dinner, Aubrey."
He presses a quick kiss to my temple—warm and familiar—before disappearing down the staircase, leaving me alone with the ancient woman whose dark eyes seem to see far too much.
"Well," Lina says, turning from her workbench with fluid grace, "that was interesting timing."
"Was it?" I ask, though part of me doesn't want to know the answer.
Instead of responding directly, Lina gestures toward a small table set with delicate china. "Tea, child? You look like you could use something to settle your nerves."
The offer is appealing—my hands are shaking slightly, though I'm not sure if it's from the climb or from whatever undercurrent I sensed between Knox and Lina. I settle into one of the carved wooden chairs as she pours steaming liquid from an ornate silver pot.
The tea smells divine—chamomile and lavender with undertones of something I can't identify. I accept the delicate cup gratefully, letting the warmth seep through the porcelain into my palms.
"I came to thank you," I say, lifting my wrist to show the diamond bracelet still encircling it. "For this. It... helped during the ceremony."
Lina's knowing smile makes my skin prickle. "Did it now? In what way?"
The question catches me off guard. How do I explain Jax's mental assault without revealing everything? How do I describe the agony that suddenly stopped without admitting to the larger web of deception I'm trapped in?
"I felt... protected," I say carefully. "Like it shielded me from something harmful."
"Mmm." Lina settles into the chair across from me, her ancient eyes studying my face with uncomfortable intensity. "Tell me, child, have you been experiencing headaches lately? Particularly sharp ones that seem to come from nowhere?"
My cup freezes halfway to my lips. "How did you—"
"And I imagine you find yourself touching your temples frequently," she continues as if I hadn't spoken. "Perhaps unconsciously, as if trying to ease some persistent pressure there."
My free hand drops from where it had been absently rubbing my temple, and Lina's smile becomes sadder.
"There's also the throat tightness, isn't there? A sensation like invisible hands around your neck, especially when you try to speak about certain subjects or people."
The tea cup rattles against its saucer as my hands begin to tremble.
Every symptom she's describing is achingly familiar—the headaches that strike without warning, the way I constantly catch myself massaging my temples, the feeling of suffocation that grips me whenever I try to voice certain truths.
"How could you possibly know all that?" I whisper.
"Because, my dear child," Lina says gently, "those are the classic signs of mental interference. Someone has been manipulating your mind."
The words hit like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. The tea cup slips from my nerveless fingers, shattering against the stone floor in a spray of porcelain and chamomile-scented liquid.
"That's impossible," I breathe, but even as I deny it, pieces begin clicking into place with sickening clarity. The headaches that always coincide with thoughts of defying Jax. The way my throat closes when I try to warn people about him. The gaps in my memory around that night my family died.
"Is it?" Lina asks quietly. "Think about it, Aubrey. When did these symptoms begin? Who was present during your most vulnerable moments? Who had the most to gain from controlling your thoughts and actions?"
My mind immediately goes to Jax, but I recoil from the thought like touching fire. No. He saved me. He's protected me for years. He would never...
But the doubt, once planted, grows like poison ivy through my consciousness.
All those times he appeared exactly when I needed saving.
The way he always seemed to know when I was doubting, when I needed reinforcement of his version of events.
The convenient gaps in my memory that left me dependent on his explanations.
"No," I say aloud, my voice shaking. "You're wrong. Jax would never—"
"I never mentioned any names," Lina points out softly.
The observation hits like ice water. I've revealed more than I intended, and we both know it.
"The mind control is breaking down," Lina continues, rising to clear away the broken porcelain with calm efficiency.
"Your growing feelings for Knox are disrupting the magical hold someone has maintained over you.
Love, you see, is one of the most powerful forces in our world—it has a way of burning through even the strongest mental barriers. "
"This is insane," I say, pushing back from the table so abruptly my chair scrapes against stone. "You're talking about mind control, magical manipulation—that's not real. That's fairy tale nonsense."
"Child," Lina says, her voice heavy with sympathy, "you've seen enough magic in recent weeks to know it's far from fairy tale nonsense. The question is: are you brave enough to learn the truth about what's been done to you?"
I want to run. Want to flee from this tower and these impossible accusations back to the safety of ignorance.
But something about the bracelet pulsing warm against my wrist holds me in place.
The same protective energy that shielded me from Jax's assault during the ceremony whispers that Lina is telling the truth.
"Even if what you're saying is possible," I say slowly, "how could you prove it? How would we know for certain?"
Lina moves to another workbench, returning with a small crystal vial and what looks like a thin silver needle. "A blood sample would show traces of the magic used to bind your mind. The signature is distinctive—like a fingerprint that identifies the caster."
The vial catches the afternoon light, seeming to glow with its own inner fire. Such a small thing to potentially shatter everything I've believed about my life, my purpose, my identity.
"And if you find evidence of this... manipulation?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
"Then we work to break the remaining bindings," Lina says simply. "Though I must warn you—uncovering suppressed memories can be extremely painful. The mind often hides things to protect itself from trauma too severe to process."
She sets the vial and needle on the table between us, along with a second container filled with pale blue liquid that seems to shift and swirl of its own accord.
"This potion will help build your resistance to future mental intrusions," she explains. "But taking it means committing to learning the truth, whatever that truth might be. There's no going back once you start down this path."
I stare at the two vials—one that might prove my entire life has been a lie, another that could protect me from future manipulation. The choice feels impossibly weighted, like standing at the edge of a cliff with no way to see the bottom.
"Take them," Aria whispers urgently in my mind. "Please, Aubrey. We need to know what's real and what's been forced on us."
My wolf's presence feels stronger than it has in months, clearer somehow, as if Lina's words have already begun loosening whatever bindings held her back.
"If I do this," I say slowly, "if we find evidence of manipulation—what then? What happens to the person responsible?"
"That," Lina says with quiet steel in her voice, "depends entirely on what we discover they've done. And how much justice you believe they deserve for stealing years of your authentic life."
I reach for the needle with trembling fingers, knowing that this choice will change everything. But as the silver point pricks my skin and crimson drops fall into the crystal vial, one thought burns brighter than my fear:
I need to know who I really am beneath all these lies.