Page 126 of Brutal Birthright

But all of that could wait.

Rowan made fast work of arriving back at the academy. First, to Ruby’s study, where it was likely they’d all still be gathered, but the place was empty. Frowning to himself, Rowan went straight to Oriana’s rooms in Trelithia, but upon landing inside her private space, it almost seemed like it wasn’t even lived in. Rowan’s scowl grew darker with each passing second. There was something weighing on his chest the longer he went without finding any trace of her.

He even checked the catacombs but couldn’t find sight nor sound of anyone. How had they all vanished since returning through the portal?

It was only moments ago they’d all been right here, covered in the grime of battle.

Fuck, of course. His mind was struggling to catch up with his physical form. They’d all have gathered at the place he should have checked first.

He portaled to the training arena, half expecting the place to be crawling with dust and noise and bodies after what they’d all just been through. But as his boots hit the ground, only a cavernous silence greeted him. In the faded light, he swept a look around. All the while, the tension inside his chest was reaching breaking point.

The arena was deserted. Only a small light could be seen glowing from inside the armoury, and as he stalked across the space, Finnic appeared in the doorway.

The blond idiot looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Must have been more of a shock suffering that attack from Fiadh than he’d been expecting.

He also looked fresh and tidied up. Rowan’s gaze narrowed on the formal attire he wore, but his mind was running a million miles an hour and didn’t have time to figure out what the fuck that was all about.

“Where is she?” He demanded.

Finnic stood there with his mouth hanging open.

This wasn’t the time to test his patience. Rowan was on him in an instant, shoving him roughly up against the wall with a snarl.

“I said, where the fuck is she?”

It was like she’d vanished completely. There was an ugly curling sensation in his gut, his vision hazing slightly as his magic felt drained—it was almost like he’d just used all his power and strength and needed time to recover.

Which was fucking laughable.

Finnic was grabbing hold of his shoulders, babbling some incoherent nonsense. Trying to talk to him, but Rowan wasn’t listening to any of it.

Because he didn’t fucking care what he had to say.

If it wasn’t about Oriana, he wasn’t interested.

“Don’t piss around. Tell me where she is.” He was about one second away from shoving his blade down the prick’s throat.

“The ballroom, that’s where they all will be.”

Well, of course, he didn’t think to look for her there. That was a fucking weird place for her to be, but whatever. He didn’t give a shit.

“But wait, she’s…”

Not bloody likely. Being gone even that short amount of time while he was in whatever dream he’d been in with Brigid and while his body healed had been torture enough.

Ignoring Finnic’s pathetic whinging and protests, he portaled straight to the ballroom, the exact spot where he’d stood that night of the summer solstice and watched his little faerie, and as he landed on the polished marble, he realised now how much he’d already been halfway to loving her back then.

She might have infuriated him, but there was no denying that she had meant something to him, even if he’d been too much of a thick-skulled fool to realise it for himself.

Materialising just inside the heavy gilded doors, he stopped short.

The ballroom was packed on all sides.

But this time, it wasn’t with revellers or dancing. Nor was there the sea of battle-weary bodies he’d been expecting to encounter.

This appeared to be the middle of a ceremony of some kind.

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