CHAPTER 25
Someone was coming, judging by the deliberate, noisy steps echoing through the hallway.
I could tell by the sound and pace of his firm walk over the stone floor.
Not upset, not entirely at ease either. A bit eager.
Reagan smiled as he took me in, took in all the tomes I’d piled over the table, perusing the titles that now spoke of magecraft rather than romance novels.
“Here you are,” he said, his hair still wet from a recent bath, his button-down shirt white and fresh.
“How was Eldritch?” I asked, spinning in the chair to fully face him, scanning him as I’d done every time he returned from patrols.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s wait one minute, so I only have to tell this once more,” he replied, then dropped to his knees in front of my chair.
Reagan stretched his arms next to my thighs, leaning forward to place a kiss on each one. Not seductively, but with tenderness.
“What are you doing?” he asked, nodding toward the book open on the table.
“Reading about runes and what else I could do with them, besides protection,” I explained with a casual shrug.
“So very curious, Miss Darling,” Reagan said, flashing a satisfied smile as he looked at me. “So very dedicated to your studies. You know, you can always ask me too.”
A grin slipped from my lips. “I know, but I like to read. I remembered seeing this book before and needed something specific.” I parted my knees slightly, allowing him to slide between them.
I hadn’t told Reagan about the scar I’d been carving into my own skin, and so far, he hadn’t noticed. “I know runes fuel the relics we use, but I don’t know how you make them.”
“It’s not every mage who is familiar with carving runes into relics. We have runesmiths for that. For what would you want another rune?”
“For something like a portal, so I could visit other towns and estates more easily without you or Finn. Or at least have a way to return to Mountheim.”
Reagan made an impressed hum. “I like the way your mind works,” he murmured, his face inches from mine. “I could help you test the runes.”
My eyes narrowed at that handsome face. “Will I have to give you something in return?”
He looked amused, his voice low. “Only if you want to.”
This felt good, a new intimacy I was quickly growing into.
Too quickly. Part of me stirred with guilt because of it, for enjoying myself while I had left Joy and Father alone with all they had to tend to regarding his sickness.
All because my high-paying job in the Capital allowed me to send a good share of my wages to them.
Still, I wasn’t there. But maybe I could have this. Maybe Zara and Godric—the watchful forces over magekin—thought I deserved it.
His arms pulled me closer, his lips brushing mine. Reagan smelled of soap and cedarwood, his hands warmer than usual, as if touched by some sort of power.
“Are you making him beg already?” Gwinifer asked, looking diverted, leaning against the doorframe.
She and Finn stared at us before they made their way inside the study.
Gwinifer went for the couch while the emissary walked towards the wall next to the window and leaned back, eating a pear he had brought with him.
They wore casual clothes, just plain shirts and soft sweaters in place of the usual tailored suits or leather.
“I don’t think you want to know what your brother and I were doing,” I answered her.
Reagan faced me with a delighted and unsubtle look.
“We definitely don’t,” Finn chimed in, taking a bite of his fruit.
“Fine,” she said, then looked back at her brother. “How was it at Eldritch?”
Reagan lowered himself, taking a seat on the floor between my knees. “Silas was right. There was a hole in the ward. It left an opening, just enough for Grims to sneak through from the border. Maybe it was that breach that drew so many of them to the city.”
“But Eldritch is so far from here,” Finn said, his olive eyes shifting between us. “It would have taken them more than a day to get here. How long was the ward down for?”
“And for that many to travel together and arrive on the day of the Rite? It doesn’t sound natural,” Gwin added, her mid-length locks shining so black they were almost blue.
“I thought the same, which meant if they came from Eldritch, they were led here.” Reagan paused, and I could only assume he was sharing a look with the staff members. “And I searched the area around it. I couldn’t find residue of any spells or anything that broke the ward.”
“No smells?” Finn asked, furrowing his blond brows.
“Plenty of smells in a swamp,” Reagan said.
“If there was anything else, the water did a fine job of hiding it.” He shook his head.
“I’ve already spoken with Barracus. We’ll send a few more patrollers there; maybe they’ll find something I missed.
Because if we don’t figure out what broke that ward, we risk it happening again. ”
After a few seconds of silence, I asked, “Have you found anything on Varian?”
“Nothing. He was seen at the Rite the entire evening,” Finn answered, sounding disappointed. “But we haven’t been able to find him since. Not sure where he is.”
A sinister smile spread across Gwinifer’s face as she spoke. “I wish I’d seen his face when the Court told him he was banned from Mountheim. He deserved worse.”
“What if someone else was doing it for him?” I suggested.
“A Scion?” Reagan asked, his head falling back on my thighs.
“Or maybe a Wraith,” I said. “I saw one at the Rite.”
His eyes widened, his body twisting to face me as Gwin and Finn stilled. I had forgotten to tell them until now; the memory still felt like a nightmare from a hundred days ago. The relief of escaping the creature had long since vanished, replaced by everything that had unfolded afterward.
“What do you mean you saw a Wraith?” Reagan asked, his voice edged with disbelief and something darker he didn’t bother to hide.
“After you left with the boy, something appeared in the courtyard. It was only there for a minute, but I think it was a Wraith, based on what I could see.”
Reagan’s features had hardened, his hands on my ankles gentle but firm. “Did it get close to you? Did you feel anything?”
“No, I ran. But do you think a Wraith could have broken the wards?” I asked, glancing between them. “They can obey orders, right?”
“They can, but they can’t break wards,” Finn explained. “Maybe this one made it through Eldritch, too. We don’t know how long the ward was down.”
“If it was just one,” Gwinifer said, propping her elbows on her knees, “we could have missed it from last time. Or it did come from Eldritch, which means we still have nothing. No clues to confirm if it was Varian or anyone else. But every sign suggests that the creatures were invited to the Rite.”
“Maybe I’ll go there,” Finnegan offered. “Tell me where exactly you found the hole, and I’ll try to track anything.”
Reagan nodded. “I’ll bring you. When we’re there, I want you to try something for me,” he said and sighed. “I want you to try to break the ward. I want to see if it will happen again.”
We stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
“There’s a chance my access has weakened, and it didn’t take more than three people to tear through the ward. Which means I’m no longer enough to hold it on my own.”
I couldn’t see his face, but the grim weight in his tone was unmistakable. “If this is the case, we’ll need another lord.”
◆◆◆
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I asked Reagan as he led us through the cobblestone streets of the city.
The wind gusted against our cloaks, gelid despite the azure sky.
“Yes, Darling, we’re here,” he said, grinning as he stopped just before a stone building with wrought-iron gates.
“Since you were responsible for the relics deal with Erisea, I thought I should introduce you to Niamh. She oversees all silver circulation in the estate, and today, we’re here to get her assessment on the status of the first order.
It’s only fair that you stay informed about the progress. ”
“Oh,” was all I could muster, glancing up at the three-story building that loomed over the smaller constructions lining the street. “And what is this place?”
“This is the forge, where some of our best runesmiths work. We can ta—”
The iron gates swung open, as did the metal door beyond them. A young woman stepped out, her dark green curls loosely tied back. She wore a white blouse under a worn leather apron. A monocle-like magnifier covered one of her eyes.
“Are you planning to loiter there all day, Reagan?” she asked, her tone deadpan. “I’m afraid I’m quite busy today, so let’s get on with it.”
My brows arched, but Reagan’s grin remained, as though he had expected the dry welcome.
“Hi, Niamh. Always a pleasure,” he said with casual ease.
Niamh huffed and stepped aside so we could enter.
Inside, we were met with stone walls and a long, narrow corridor devoid of windows, with only more heavy metal doors lining the passage.
“Follow me,” she said, leading us deeper into the forge without wasting a moment.
Perhaps we really were disrupting her day.
“How have you been?” Reagan asked as we fell into step behind her.
Niamh glanced over her shoulder, keen eyes taking him in. She didn’t bother with any formalities.
“Busy. Some of our smiths have been sick, so the rest of us have our hands full.”
As we walked past open doorways, Reagan acknowledged several people, some offering brief nods, others too engrossed in their craft to notice us. The rhythmic clang of hammers and a buzzing noise filled the space, the temperature rising the deeper we ventured inside.
We shed our cloaks just as we stepped into a vast workshop cluttered with tools. Shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles and wooden boxes. A broad workbench stood at the centre, piled with scrolls and scattered accessories. Relics.
“Jane, as you heard, despite her less-than-gentle introduction, this is Niamh, the leading runesmith in the city,” Reagan said.