CHAPTER 33
When we returned, only the staff and a handful of guests remained in the Hall.
They told me that a single rose had been left in the courtyard, along with a piece of parchment bearing directions to a vast area on the outskirts of the estate, where they had tracked us.
Cerridwen told us that they had noticed the changes a few moments earlier. The creature-like features disappeared one by one, limbs returned, skin tones shifted.
Briefly, we shared with her and Barracus what had transpired at the cabin. Reagan’s arm stayed tight around my waist the entire time.
I barely had time to react before someone slammed into me. Hands cupped my face with startling speed, and before I could process what was happening, Gwinifer pressed her lips to mine.
I stilled, brows arched.
“Mana help me, Gwinifer,” Reagan said, glaring as she let go of me.
Gwinifer chuckled, the sound seeming almost deliberate, as if meant to annoy her brother. “I’m expressing my heartfelt gratitude to Red for somehow turning an idea out of thin air.”
Reagan held his frown, and I laughed under my breath. Finn shook his head, stepping toward me as if to speak, but Reagan’s arm shot out, barring his path. He fixed a look on his emissary.
Finn lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll just hug her.”
And he did, his kind face softening. But Finn’s expression was pale, as if he were still as uneasy as I was.
More of the Hall’s staff crowded the foyer, voices overlapping in relief and cheer. Outside, the city’s commotion carried to us.
So much relief, so much laughter.
My gaze lowered to my hands, to the red stains I tried to clean against my dress, but they didn’t leave.
Finn had healed my wounds in the cabin. No marks or bruises marred my skin anymore, and a visit to the washroom had allowed me to rid my mouth of the bitter taste of bile. Only the blood beneath my fingernails remained.
Reagan’s eyes met mine, and I knew he saw it, whatever flicker had betrayed me, some phantom twitch I couldn’t hide. A sea of people pressed around him, nodding and murmuring about Zara’s mercy. He met each gesture, clasping every hand extended toward him.
I shook my head subtly.
He shouldn’t leave them; he should be celebrating with his people. This was the culmination of seven years of work. Of course he was happy.
He was free.
Still, Reagan made his way through the crowd and took my hand, saying nothing as the others watched, drinking in the sight of us. After a few brief words with the staff, he drew us out of the foyer and into a nearby room.
In the quiet space, I let myself take in a breath. Slow and deep.
As he stood in front of me, my arms found their way around his neck, and his hands pulled me closer. Gentle fingers warmed my skin.
For a moment, we just stood there, our foreheads pressed together, his warmth seeping into me, the silence between us filled with the sound of shared breaths.
“Jane,” Reagan murmured, bowing his head to the crook of my neck, breathing me in. “Jane.”
My eyes fluttered shut. The tip of his nose traced a path along my jaw, over the curve of my cheek.
Reagan finally asked, “Are you all right?”
I bobbed my head, my inhale catching the faint scent of him. His fingers threaded gently through my hair. When he spoke, his voice was a murmur. Raw. Each word thick with the same fear that lingered inside me.
“I was afraid I was going to lose you. I went to that cabin without a plan, without thinking of anything but getting you out. When I saw them hurting you . . .” A strained breath hissed between his teeth. “I’m sorry. I wish I had killed them all.”
I pulled back just enough to meet his shadowed gaze, wondering if the curse would have broken then, if Reagan had four deaths weighing the scale.
His fingers gently brushed my scalp as he went on, “But I’ll find them, and they’ll suffer for what they did.”
Something inside me stirred with a similar feeling. I tightened my grip on the back of his neck.
“You’re not supposed to fall back to vengeance so quickly.”
He let out a humourless chuckle. “Of course not.”
I recognised the sardonic tone and frowned.
“I know,” Reagan said. “But when I get my hands on Varian . . . there’s no growing past that. Not when you still have that haunted look on your face.”
I inhaled deeply. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken. We’re celebrating, but . . .” The words scraped my throat, hoarse. “I still saw you bleed. I watched that thing drain you.”
The memory flashed in my head. Blood flowing from his mouth. The Wraith taking his power.
My hands trembled faintly, and he caught them, holding them to his chest.
“No one will touch you now. Touch us,” he murmured, his eyes holding mine. “We’re free of the curse. Without it, we’ll be stronger.”
The words sounded like a promise, maybe more than that. I hoped it was true, as those memories would linger, their assault still all too fresh.
I swallowed. “Do you mean you’re stronger now?”
He studied me for a moment. “Yes. I should have full access to my mana now.”
Before we returned to Mountheim Hall, we’d told him everything. That something had stopped his curse from breaking, that Varian didn’t deny his involvement in front of the judge, that I’d agreed to search for any interference that might have caused it, and the person responsible.
He looked stricken after we told him, the shock and guilt taking turns in shaping his handsome features.
“Good. The thought of you trapped like that . . .” I murmured, but didn’t finish.
I didn’t have to. The next moment, Reagan kissed me, deep and loving. There was no rush from either of us. It was just honest, endless. I might have wished to do this for the rest of my life.
We didn’t have that time. We had only until the end of my sentence, and I thought I would beg them to erase my mind by then. Because while Reagan felt like home, these lands would never be.
His mouth parted from mine.
“This might sound too territorial,” he said, licking his bottom lip, as if savouring the last of our kiss. “But let’s make one thing clear: your lips are strictly mine now. Not anyone else’s to taste. And definitely not my sister’s.”
I let out a chuckle and nodded.
Just a few more months.
The words were whispered in my mind, careless of the sting they inflicted. I didn’t want to think that far ahead. I wanted to think of now, with his feelings mirroring my own, of his lips claiming mine until my thoughts ceased.
Then a knock came from outside, breaking our contact.
“It’s Finn,” he said, brushing his nose against mine, still holding me as close as our bodies would allow. “Come in.”
When Finnegan opened the door, his expression had hardened, his eyes like steel as he fixed them on Reagan.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We can’t wait anymore. She’s unhinged,” Finn said. “You need to bring her now.”
Caedmon stilled beside me, his hands gripping my waist tighter.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
Reagan cupped my cheek with his hand, watching me with a frown that made my stomach feel hollow. “We need to show you something, Jan. I will explain everything.”
“What is it?” I demanded, my gaze shifting between the two of them. “Are we in danger?”
He shook his head, letting his hands drop. “It’s not any danger. Come with me.”
So I followed them out of the room and toward a set of stairs. After climbing several floors, we found Gwinifer waiting for us beside an open door that led to one of the towers in the west wing.
“This should be fun,” she murmured, though her tone was dry, the sarcasm clear.
My skin prickled with unease. When I tried asking again, they responded with infuriating silence.
We ascended the stone stairwell that spiralled higher and higher.
With every step, the air grew more gelid, the wind howling outside, the city visible through narrow gaps in the walls.
I was peeking through those gaps when I recalled something Reagan had said in the cabin, something about the west wing.
We arrived at what must have been the highest floor of the tower. The air was bitterly cold, snow drifted through the tall windows, and a thin layer of ice coated the jambs.
Gwinifer cursed. “It wasn’t like this before we left.”
I scanned the space as we made our way across it, following Finn and Gwinifer until we reached a wooden door rimmed with frost at the bottom. Finn unlocked the door and stepped inside, but Reagan stopped me before I could follow.
“I think I should tell you first. A few days ago, there was a disturbance in the Northern Forest, and I had to deal with it. It wasn’t an attack—” Reagan was saying, but he was cut short by a voice coming from the room.
Finn murmured something I couldn’t understand, and Gwinifer stood stiffly, waiting at the doorway.
It came again, though disturbed and louder this time.
It struck me square in the chest, and my gaze snapped to the door.
I walked past Reagan, my legs carrying me through the doorway faster than before.
My heartbeat lurched into a sprint. The stone room was cloaked in ice, its circular walls glittering with frost. There were only a few pieces of furniture.
A bed, a small wooden closet, a square table, a wet fur rug on the stone floor, and another closed door leading to a second room.
Two small windows let in the howling wind.
But what truly held my attention was that the room wasn’t empty.
Finn stood near the door, staring at the sight that made my eyes widen.
On the bed, pressed against the wall, her clothes stained with grass and dirt, was my sister.
“Joy?”
I was unsure of what I was seeing, refusing to make sense of it.
Her eyes bulged at the sight of me. “Jane.”
It was her voice. My sister’s voice.
“What is this?” I hissed, stumbling forward. My knees hit the bedside, and I winced as my hands met the frost-slicked surface. I reached for her, gripping her shoulders. Too cold, too still, like touching stone.
“Jane, they took Father!” Her voice was alarmed, desperate. “You have to find him.”