CHAPTER 31
He was massive, his four paws stretched wide.
I draped myself over the beast on the floor, not pulling away. Couldn’t. My head rested on the side of his stomach, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breaths. Each inhale, each exhale—it was him. It was still him.
My fingers slipped through the coarse fur, searching, soothing, reminding myself over and over that this was Caedmon. That beneath the lupine frame, the elongated snout, the closed eyelids, lay the man who had stirred my whole life.
The others moved around, their voices edged and urgent, but I wasn’t listening.
Alive. He is alive. And when those eyes opened again, when I saw that piercing blue staring back at me, I’d know for certain.
Just wait.
I wouldn’t leave him. Not now, not after. Even if he couldn’t speak, even if it wouldn’t ever be the same.
The voices of the others finally sliced through my haze, pulling me back to the dim, tension-filled room.
“. . . for this,” Gwinifer snarled. “When I tell her what you did, you’ll never take his place.”
“Malory will see reason,” Varian replied. “She knows Mountheim needs me, and I am the best choice to resolve this.”
“Anything would be better than you,” Finnegan growled, disgust dripping from every word. “You’re nothing but a power-hungry parasite. How the fuck did you know what the end of the curse was?”
I lifted my head from Caedmon’s chest. My voice cut through their bickering, steadier than I expected. “I want to speak to her.”
Varian laughed. “You humans are so pathetically useless. Do you think she will grant your wishes for you?”
Gwinifer didn’t hesitate. She lunged, her fist slamming into his jaw with enough force to snap his head back. He stumbled, glaring at her as the other two Scions stepped between them.
Varian sneered. “I’ll make sure you’re dragged back to whatever pit you crawled out of, Wicklow.” He spat on the floor, turning to face his lackeys. “Alert Judge Nova Malory.”
“Thank the Grimoire that I can’t kill you right now,” Gwinifer hissed, her nose curling.
He dusted himself off. “My father’s estate in the hands of barbarians. But lucky for you, I am more merciful than my cousin. I’ll grant him one final gift. I’ll ask Malory to send the human back to her land. It’s what he wanted, after all.”
Icy rage poured into me. I turned just enough to glare over my shoulder. “He doesn’t need anything from you. And we’ll see Mountheim rebel if someone as weak as you rules over it.”
His mouth pressed into a displeased line, and I took some satisfaction from it. It didn’t last long.
I pushed myself up from the floor, wiping the dampness from my face. “Do you know what could break his curse?” I asked Finn and Gwin.
The emissary shook his head. Gwinifer said, “We don’t know. He was the only one who knew, and he couldn’t tell anyone. He said we needed to wait, that he wouldn’t commit the same mistakes, and that things would fall into place. But . . .”
I stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “But what?”
Gwinifer sighed, glancing between the beast and me. “But he didn’t sound sure. Reagan always speaks with conviction, like he couldn’t be wrong. But about this . . . He didn’t seem sure of what would happen.”
“He was overconfident, as always,” Varian said.
“Or you are the reason things are not developing as they should,” Finnegan seethed, launching himself at Varian. Gwin held him this time. “Because you interfered.”
“The only thing I did was bring her here, because it was the only way to talk to him. But as I expected, it is hard to have a civil conversation with Reagan. He was prepared to bring down the cabin,” Varian said, gesturing to the mess of ceramic and splintered wood on the floor.
“Do you want to be ruled by someone so unhinged?”
“You tortured her, scum,” Gwinifer hissed. “You had a Wraith drain him.”
Varian blinked, unfazed. “A necessary precaution.”
I chose to ignore him. “So only Malory would know what would break his curse?”
“Maybe,” Finn replied, “or the official who should be here any minute now.”
“Here?” I asked.
Gwinifer nodded. “When a curse reaches its end, they come for the person and bring them before the magister.”
So, we waited.
My mind was reeling. I glanced down at the creature sprawled near my feet, unconscious but still breathing. Trapped in this form—a form meant to terrify, with the towering size of a bear, the horns of a bison, and the massive head of a wolf.
A sharp crackle, like the hum of electricity, filled the air. Then she was there.
Judge Malory.
Every person in the room seemed to hold their breath, afraid to breathe. All eyes locked on the judge.
She was here. Not any official. The judge.
With an impassive face, she surveyed the room, each person, finally landing on the figure on the floor. Her stare was heavy, devoid of emotion, and emanating so much power that my spine almost pulled me into a bow so I wouldn’t look her in the eye.
She had an aura around her, wrapped like the dark green cloak falling over her shoulders. It whispered of respect, of an authority that shouldn’t be confronted.
“Judge Malory,” Varian said, his voice entirely different. Rigid.
She still watched Reagan, her expression as cold as frostbite.
My instincts screamed to shield him, to hide him from her calculating gaze.
She had done this to him. Placed the curse that twisted his fate.
I did not care if she hadn’t chosen the fate.
He’d been in pain, and she had chosen to punish him further.
My eyes narrowed on her, and she met my gaze for the briefest of moments before speaking, her voice even.
“It seems the Mage Lord’s sentence has reached its conclusion.”
“As we unfortunately expected,” Varian replied. “Hardly a joyful conclusion, I’m afraid. I believe he was plotting something to escape it. Not noble, but understandable.”
“Reagan would never,” I said, my words steady. “That’s why you kidnapped someone under his protection today.”
The judge’s eye stayed with me, surveying the wounds on my skin, before turning to Varian. “Kidnapped?” she asked curtly.
Varian’s smile was odious. “An exaggeration by a human.”
“You have witnesses, scum.” Gwinifer whirled on him. “Did you think of that before interfering with the curse?”
Half a minute passed in unbearable silence before she finally spoke.
“The curse couldn’t be interfered with. None could do that, not even I.
But Reagan would have known if he was able to break the curse or not.
And if there was a crime committed here today by Mr Ilya, that one will be brought to Court. ”
Varian kept his neutral expression. “I am fully prepared to endure any judgement you have for me. But surely, there’s a more pressing matter at hand. What becomes of him? What becomes of the estate?”
Finn’s snarl was instant, but there was something more important than Varian.
I lifted my chin, defiance etched into every part of me. “How do you know that he didn’t break the curse? If he is like this”—I extended an arm toward the beast—“and cannot speak for himself? How can you tell that he didn’t do it?”
“Because he wouldn’t be in this form. And the Mage Lord would have come to me immediately. If he isn’t, if he didn’t, it’s because he failed.”
“He didn’t fail,” I snapped, my voice higher.
Her expression remained the same.
Finnegan jumped in. “He has years of service to his estate and enough time to have paid for his offence. Maybe if you speak with his staff, you’ll find that . . .”
“That is not how the curse would end, Mr Finnegan. I shouldn’t need to speak to the estate.
It brings me no joy to see his curse unbroken.
My intention was to offer him an opportunity to demonstrate that he understood the weight of his responsibility, or to abdicate it entirely.
He chose to rule, and this was the sentence that Fate decided for him.
” Her hands folded neatly in front of her, precise and calm. “This was Lord Reagan’s curse.”
With the barest flick of her finger, light stirred—coiling, writhing—until the air itself shimmered with pale smoke. From the haze, something took shape. A sphere, pulsing and weightless, twisted over itself in a slow, hypnotic circle.
The world hushed. Even my breath felt stolen, swallowed by the power thickening the air. From within that trembling glow, a voice emerged—soft, sinuous, chanting eerie words into the silence.
The Curse Chantress.
“Oh, hello, young heir . . . bearer of fury and vengeance. You, who have chosen this destiny, seek to fulfil the legacy of your kin . . . The Fates have spoken for you.”
The voice wavered, only so that another one, a familiar, angry voice, could take over.
“I don’t need this, Malory!” Reagan yelled.
My face slackened.
The judge’s voice followed. “I ask again, do you choose to rule, Lord Reagan?”
The soft voice, which became more ominous, continued.
“Henceforth and for the span of seven winters, you shall face the crucible of a ruler, to evolve beyond traits of egoism and negligence, and prove yourself a bearer of compassion and responsibility for the lands and lives you serve, those who shall embody the reflection of your penance. For the old, the new, the sorrowful ones, and the born anew.”
A deafening silence fell over the cabin. No one dared to breathe, to move.
Then Reagan’s voice broke through, hoarse and desperate. “You can’t do this.”
The judge answered him dryly, “It is not up to me.”
The curse continued.
“Hurt, wrath . . . I see you, ruinous heir. You shall face the crucible of fortitude and restraint, shall learn to endure the tragedies of your past and temper your proclivity for anger. Or wear its wretched mask when it is all you possess. Receive now the tether for your curse, and what binds you shall yet free you, for the effort is yours alone to make.”
His next words were not words, but a scream. Loud and painful. Gwinifer threw her arms behind her head. The agony in his scream, it was nothing like my sentence.