CHAPTER 29 #3
My pleas fell on deaf ears. Varian’s expression remained cold, detached, as though he was merely observing a tactic unfold rather than orchestrating torment.
Around us, the staff thrashed against their bindings, staring in horror as Reagan collapsed onto his side, his breath ragged, his body sagging as if he was about to lose consciousness.
I stared at him, my chest tightening. No air. There was no air.
“You’ll kill him,” Finnegan snarled, struggling on the floor.
The seconds dragged on, an eternity of helplessness and screams, before Varian gave the order. The Wraith withdrew, its smoky tendrils dissipating into the air. Reagan barely moved, his chest rising with shallow breaths.
“Reagan?” I called.
A hacking cough wracked his body, a sound that made me hold my breath. But then he shifted, his voice raspy, faint. “Fine.”
“You think you can get away with this?” Gwinifer spat, glowering at Varian. “You’re stupider than I thought.”
Varian said nothing, and his disregard for the risk set my teeth on edge.
The night had deepened, and the storm outside had quieted to a steady drizzle, the kind that felt like nature itself had grown exhausted. Frost crept along the edges of the door, and my breath billowed in the frigid air.
I shivered. My arms hurt so much, still suspended in the harsh stillness. But my focus was on him, lying on his side, a faint bright light shining in his chest, quickly and fleeting.
Varian flicked his hand lazily toward the Wraith, muttering words I couldn’t hear, couldn’t care to hear. Only the faintest movement told me the creature flew through the other room, then the grey shape crossed the window outside.
Reagan was trying to push himself up on his elbow, but it was a battle just to get upright. Drained. Hurt. The sight threatened to send me to my knees.
Varian, crouching beside him now, savoured his struggle.
“I don’t like seeing you like this, cousin. Truly, I don’t. And I take no pleasure in what’s about to happen to you now. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
My pulse quickened. I hadn’t thought it possible to feel more dread, yet the way his words lingered told me otherwise.
“I want to talk to her,” Reagan rasped, his voice weak. His lips moved again, but the words that followed were indistinguishable.
Varian seemed to consider, and with a slow, deliberate nod to Caius, he granted the request.
The ward around us drifted to the ground, the bindings on my wrists vanishing. Though fire laced through my limbs, I surged forward and dropped to my knees, gathering his cold, ashen face in my hands and settling his head in my lap.
“Are you all right?” I asked. Stupid. Stupid question.
It was my fault. He was here because of me, even though he tried to teach me to recognise the presence of mana.
I was careless. My fingers traced his skin, hoping I could warm him, bring some life back into the hollow cheeks. “Of course not. I . . . What can I do?”
“What do you mean?” He coughed, his voice a rasping sound only for my ears. “Don’t I look good?”
I gave him a grim smile, and the twitch on his lips lasted but a second.
“Jan, I’m so sorry. I am sorry for everything.” His gaze seemed to dart to my bruises as he spoke. “When you leave here, you need to go back to Mountheim Hall. Go to the third tower in the west wing. Then Finnegan will get you to the station. Go home.”
I shook my head, feeling the tremor of confusion and fear running through me. “My sentence—”
“Your sentence is bound to me,” he cut in, his voice firm despite the strain in it. “It says, ‘Under the protection of the Mage Lord, Caedmon Reagan.’ If I cannot protect you, it’s void. It’s already settled.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stay with you,” I whispered, brushing his brow. “We can fight for Mountheim. And even if we lose, I want to be with you.”
His breath hitched, a sharp exhale. I pressed my fingertips to his neck, feeling the slow pulse, and kissed his forehead.
“He needs a healer,” I said, turning to Varian. “We should go back to the Hall and wait for the official there.”
“A healer?” Varian crooned, making my skin crawl. His eyes flicked toward Reagan. “Right. You couldn’t tell her. I suppose if that were my fate, I wouldn’t even want to tell.”
A hollow feeling spread through me. “Tell me what?” I asked, shifting my gaze between them.
A pang of regret flickered across Reagan’s face, and I felt myself sinking into that emptiness. He looked so resigned, as if the fight had drained from him. Nothing like the hope, the resolve I witnessed in Mountheim Hall.
“What do you think will happen if your lord doesn’t break his curse? I told you before, the power granted to a Mage Lord is far greater than most because of his responsibilities. But such power always comes at a cost.”
My heart pounded against my ribcage. The torture Caius had inflicted on me felt insignificant now.
“What’s the cost?” I rasped, desperation clawing at my voice. “What did you sacrifice to claim Mountheim?”
I waited for his answer, refusing to look away.
“If the curse isn’t broken,” Reagan murmured, “my citizens will bear their features still, and I will remain trapped in my other form. Cursed forever.”