CHAPTER 28
Minutes stretched into an hour as I waited for Reagan, my mind replaying every word of our conversation.
Whatever awaited with the court mage had led him to prepare himself, and my thoughts turned to the possibility of a trial.
An action great enough to break a curse.
Or perhaps only a discussion, though I doubted it would be something simple.
And then there were those other words, echoing in my mind over and over like a cruel refrain.
My lady.
A picture rose in my mind of Scions snarling, of mages from this estate and beyond whispering that a human had become lady.
The outrage. At a fancy title. It could never be mine.
I had enough clarity of mind to picture the sheer contempt it would provoke and the possible hatred aimed at me from the Order of bastards.
I might manage negotiations with practice, but not all of it.
And yet, that was what it meant to be with him. To become Lady of Mountheim.
And Malory—gods, Malory would never allow me to stay once my sentence was served.
But for all the reasons Mountheim felt impossibly wrong, it would be infinitely more impressive than Ehrfurt, with its moonlit ballrooms waiting to be danced in, auroras streaking the sky in luminous ribbons, and starlit gowns replacing trench coats.
Not all the books in Pember & Quill could compare to what I would witness if I could stay.
I shoved the thought aside. He still needed to finish his sentence, and I should have thought to offer my help.
I’m not in love with just anyone.
Sighing, I pushed myself off the wall and left the alcove. I wove through the crowd, scanning faces, searching for him. The room was bustling. Cerridwen caught my eye in the distance, deep in conversation with a cluster of mages whose faces were drawn with tension.
No one danced. People stood stiffly, their gazes darting around, as if waiting for something.
And then I saw him again. Reagan descended the stairs, muttering something to Gwin as his eyes scanned the crowd, searching. The frown etched into his face softened the moment his gaze found mine. I was already stalking toward him, brushing past muffled conversations and murmured words.
I didn’t stop until my hand curled around his wrist, and I tugged him toward the doors, back out into the cool night air, away from the crowd.
“If you need help tonight speaking to the court mage, tell me,” I said, pausing near a set of stairs. I cast a glance at the others as they nodded towards their lord. “I want to help if I can.”
Reagan’s mouth slackened, his piercing gaze studying mine.
“You’re surprised,” I said, repeating his words. “I should be insulted, considering I’ve helped you before.”
I reached up, threading my fingers through his unruly hair before resting my hand over the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
“Of course you did,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a nervous grin tugging at his lips. “And I can use your help.”
Before I could respond, he kissed me intensely, his tongue parting my lips, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other splayed across my lower back.
When he pulled away, his breath mingling with mine, a wickedly smug smile spread across his lips, and Reagan dragged his tongue slowly along the side of my neck.
I stilled, my gaze flicking to the side as I took in our surroundings. Sure enough, a few lingering eyes watched from the doorway. Heat flooded my cheeks, but Reagan only chuckled, as if their presence was the least of his concerns.
“I’m glad you offered,” he whispered into my ear. “Come. It’s time to get started.”
He took my hand and led me outside. The crisp night air greeted us as we crossed the courtyard.
Battle mages stood sentinel, their watchful eyes scanning the grounds.
A scattering of guests lingered in the open, but no one paid us much attention as we moved toward the line of pines bordering the castle.
I felt my breath shallow, my stomach tightening with anticipation. The trees closed in around us, their dark silhouettes swaying in the wind. Get started. With what?
I tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop beneath the thick canopy of pine needles. “Where are we going?” I asked.
He turned to me, his gaze flicking to the shifting shadows around us. “I just wanted some privacy,” Reagan said, though his voice was guarded. “But here is fine.”
“You said you wanted to show me something,” I reminded him, tilting my head as his arms wrapped around me.
The faint strains of music from the grand hall drifted through the trees. I glanced around, realising how truly alone we were. No guests. No battle mages. Just the two of us, swallowed by the dark embrace of the forest.
“Indeed,” he said. But there was something flickering in his ice-blue eyes that I couldn’t name. “I’ll show you, but you can’t tell anyone until it’s time. I need you to hold on to me.”
I breathed in a crisp, nutty scent, letting the silence settle between us for a moment. I studied him closely, taking in every detail of his face. The arch of his dark brows, the sharp, angular cut of his jaw, the slight curve of his fuller bottom lip.
I nodded. His grip on my waist tightened, and the faintest, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across his lips.
“Hold on,” he murmured.
And in the next heartbeat, the woods, the music, the castle behind us vanished.
◆◆◆
We arrived at a cabin, the scent of aged wood and smoke wrapping around me. The space was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of candles and the faint silver light spilling through a single window. Shadows danced across the stone fireplace and the dark wooden beams lining the ceiling.
A fur rug stretched out beneath a battered sofa draped in a thick blanket, positioned next to a wooden coffee table. The rocking chair creaked with someone sitting in it.
Four figures stood in the room, the weight of their attention falling on us immediately. One of them, a tall man with long, white hair reaching past his chest, rose slowly from the rocking chair.
“That took long enough,” he said, his voice carrying the rasp of annoyance. His pale eyes raked over me, dissecting me. Unimpressed.
I couldn’t make sense of the wariness his presence stirred in me. He didn’t look old despite his silver hair. His frame was tall and powerful, broad beneath the fur-lined cloak he wore.
The other three, equally large and equally silent, watched us with expressions as cold as the room itself.
“Where are we?” I asked, the words barely more than a breath as I turned to Reagan.
He only smirked, a sharp-edged thing that cut through my last bit of calm.
“It was crowded,” Reagan said, his voice casual. Cold. “I had to search for her.”
The white-haired man narrowed his eyes, his lips curving in a slight sneer.
The chill of the room seeped into my bones, an unforgiving cold that had nothing to do with the familiar, comforting one of Mountheim Hall. My dress, thin and impractical, did nothing to shield me. And the others had come prepared, wrapped in furs and sturdy leather.
I glanced out the window. Snow-covered mountains rose in the distance under a sky littered with faint stars. There was no sign of another building, no castle or city. Only endless wilderness.
“Reagan, where are we?” I demanded, louder this time.
He turned, his expression sharper than I’d ever seen it, his lips curling into a cruel sneer that made my stomach knot. “It shouldn’t surprise me,” he said with disdain, “that my cousin allows a human to speak to a Mage Lord that way.”
Cousin. The word rang in my head. My body tensed, every nerve alive with the instinctual understanding that I hadn’t paid enough heed to the warning signs. My eyes darted to him, searching for anything he’d hidden. And there it was—a ring on his hand. A dark band, its stone gleaming faintly.
A ring I had never seen him wear before.
The white-haired one laughed, the sound cold and cruel. “Are you sure he will come for her?” he asked, his gaze flicking between me and the one who resembled Reagan.
“Yes,” Varian said. “I know my cousin well. Help me remove the ward around her.”
“You can’t do it yourself?”
A challenge. An irritation.
Varian cast a cold, hard look at him. “He warded her, and he is still the Mage Lord. Do I need to remind you?”
“Fine,” the white-haired one muttered.
They turned, and I pressed myself against the wall, nails digging into my palms. When their limbs brightened, I felt it—the sharp pull of something being torn from me, like a sheer veil being shredded by invisible knives. I swore at the pressure against my chest. Static crackled. Then silence.
“I’ll work the threads when it’s time,” the white-haired one said. “Dexter, Goyle, and Caius will stay behind. Let me know when it’s done.”
Then he was gone.
My hands remained clenched, my body trembling. I took a slow, deep breath.
“I should have known you weren’t him,” I said.
Varian turned on his heel. The same eyes I had come to love gazed back at me, except it wasn’t him. He gave a hateful snicker.
“Not so ignorant after all, human,” he said. “I guess there’s no reason to keep wearing this.”
He pulled the ring off his finger. In seconds, as if my vision had merely blurred, Varian Ilya appeared, standing in Reagan’s exact clothes.
Varian lifted his hand, the ring catching the faint light as he turned it lazily between his fingers.
“A glamour relic,” he said heedlessly, as though we were discussing the weather.
“Simple to forge, really, if you’ve got blood or hair from the one you want to mimic.
And getting his . . .” He chuckled, low and cold.
“Well, it wasn’t exactly difficult. He came for my throat in your honour at the Rite.
” The grin that spread across his face was cruel and entirely too amused.
“His recklessness and anger will always be his downfall.”