Page 145 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

“I do.”

“With the turmoil, his magic isn’t having much effect,” Huxley said, pushing up his glasses. “He’s butthurt because of that. What matters is that you know why you told everyone.”

“Why was that again?” I joked.

“Because you grew tired of living a lie.”

His words were spoken from experience.

“Ah, yes. I remember.” I looked around the holding cell that was close to where Wild first tested my affinity magic. A similar room had contained Corey’s magic draining setup. The cells likely hadn’t been used to hold actual prisoners in some time. Until me.

Even then, Huxley was right. There wasn’t much holding going on by the cell. I was choosing to respect that the coven had put me here to await their verdict. I’d left Varden and the others in quite the pickle. “Is everyone else safe?” I hadn’t known if the quad and Rooke—even Varden—may end up in cells beside mine.

“Safe enough. Some are asking us questions. Some have been angry—we obviously knew most of what you knew for as long. I also think our presence is doing them good. We’re not bothered by what you are. We’ve eaten and laughed with you over the last few months.”

“And also spurned me,” I said drily.

“That was because Wild had dick issues.”

True.

“You’ve existed amongst them for months, and you have a track record of doing the right thing—of being brilliant and of putting your life on the line for them against demonkind. That’s making those who want to believe you’re a traitor or dangerous pause for a second. Instead, they’re wondering why we don’t have an issue with your nature. They’re wondering instead of reacting to their instinctual fear. That’s something.”

I set the tray on the table beside my bed. I didn’t want Huxley to eat more, and he’d been looking at the chocolate-chip biscuit on there.

“Been up to much?” he asked.

I pursed my lips. “It’s a busy place. I was actually thinking I could use the time to figure out all the differences concerning me and my demon and Wild. Is it weird that it took being locked in here to find the time to do that?”

“No. You’ve been working yourself to the bone for the last few weeks.”

Is that why I felt so tired? Maybe. “How are you and Spyne?”

Huxley pulled a face. “You’re worried about us when you’re locked in here?”

“I seek escapism. It’s been four hours.” Two were occupied by Wild being here until I convinced him that he needed to be seen by the coven. That would help most of all.

Huxley reached over and tried to snag my cookie. I slapped the back of his hand.

“Don’t touch my prison food.”

He glared at me, rubbing his hand. “Asshole. Me and Spyne are… I don’t know. What you did sat right with him. It doesn’t sit right with me that you doing that sat right with him.”

I squinted as I tried to follow. “You’re annoyed because he wanted me to tell the truth, even though that ended up with me here?”

“Why couldn’t he see it was your choice? Why didn’t he trust that I wouldn’t put him in danger?” Huxley wrinkled his nose. “Seems over. He wants to leave, and part of me wants him to go, too, now. Perhaps he’s right, and we’re not meant for each other right now.”

For maybe the first time ever, I saw the full picture of their relationship. I wondered if Spyne was aware of how little he’d given of himself in their relationship. Not that Huxley’s issues were Spyne’s fault, but they’d become the focus of what they shared, when it was clear Spyne had his own too. As both sides in a relationship always did. Spyne wanted to leave, for instance, and he had displayed a few times that his urge to control others’ choices sometimes got the better of him.

“Maybe the best thing to do would be to part ways and learn and grow in whatever ways you’re meant to,” I said softly. “Perhaps there’s something more for you guys down the track.”

Huxley swallowed. “I love him, Tempest. The last few weeks have been messy, but they’ve been a dream. I don’t want to let go, and I know it’s right at the same time.”

I took his hand and squeezed. “I can’t believe you’re making this all about you when I’m the one in a dungeon.”

The grimoire laughed, and when he’d wiped away a few tears from under the rim of his glasses, he squeezed my hand in return. “If you needed help to bust out, then I’d offer.”

“Tell Sven none of this is his fault. Tell Corey to stop wearing linen.”

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