Page 48 of A Reign of Malice
“Drink.” Clara’s voice is soft but firm, and when I open my eyes, she’s standing beside the bed, a steaming cup of tea in her hands.
I sit up slowly, wincing as the movement sends fresh pain through my head. “I hate you.”
“I told you there would be regrets.” She presses the cup into my hands. “This is my special hangover blend. Trust me.”
The first sip is bitter enough to make me gag, but I force it down and then several more until the drink is gone.Within moments, the pounding in my head eases, the fog lifting from my mind. “You’re a witch.”
“Just always prepared as you’ve employed me to be,” she says with a smirk, handing me water next.
As I take the much-needed hydration, my thoughts become clear and the full weight of everything Dasha said settles within me. The gravity of what we’re walking into. The truth that last night, with all its laughter and drunken bravery, can’t happen again.
“We need to be ready,” I say softly. “Did you get the message out for Estee? Aurora might be our only hope.”
Clara sits on the edge of the bed, her expression serious as she nods. “We’ll know soon enough.”
“And if the goddess can’t—or won’t—help?” I ask, but the question is more for myself. My mate’s life is on the line, and I’m running out of time. There’s no more hoping things will work out. Action is needed, and it has to be today.
I refuse to mate with Aeson tomorrow, and I can’t let him banish me from the castle before I’ve freed Julian.
“You always figure things out. Now won’t be any different,” Clara says with more faith than I currently feel.
“Not always. We still lost our land,” I remind her with disgust for myself.
She shakes her head at me. “You were meant to end up right where you are. If you’d solved the problems in Alcaris on your own, you would’ve never learned about Julian. Would you prefer that?”
“Of course not.” I sit up in bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. “I can’t regret coming here, but our people, Clara.” My frown deepens. “I’ve put them at risk. If this comes to a war… I can’t let them die for me. I’m supposed to do that for them.”
Her fingers tighten around my shoulder as she levels herpowerful gaze on me. “I know you had a long night, but today’s going to be even longer. I need you to believe we’re going to work this out. You don’t need all the answers now. For the time being, we wait, we prepare, and we do our best.”
I exhale slowly, setting the empty glass aside. “You’re right.”
Aeson won’t beat me. He won’t keep my mate from me. I need to grasp onto the confidence I feel when I’m standing up to him and never forget who I am.
I just hope the price won’t be more than I’m willing to pay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JULIAN
I’ve been staring into the darkness ever since Sloane left, solely focused on a singular spot. One that I’m certain is real and can no longer deny that something has changed.
When Sloane first found the runes, when I first sensed her close, there was a change in the air. I’d attributed it to my hope of finally being free and nothing more, but with this third visit, there’s no denying that all is not as it has been for the last couple centuries.
The crack is so faint, I nearly think I’ve imagined it, but combined with the fact that the once-suffocating magic wrapped around this prison seems to be loosening, like a hand unclenching after years of gripping too tightly… I can’t deny what’s right in front of me.
My wolf stirs. His presence is fragile, far too weak for what he once was, but no longer fading either.
The crack is real. And however it formed, it’s changed everything.
Sloane doesn’t have to be the one to save me. She doesn’t have to risk herself for me.
The runes carved into the cave walls pulse—a slow, flickering glow that falters every so often. Something I might not notice if I tore my gaze away for even a second. They’ve been unwavering since the day I awoke in this darkness, humming with the sinister magic that’s kept me caged, siphoning my strength drop by agonizing drop. But now they stutter, as though whatever holds them together is struggling to breathe.
It has to be Sloane’s presence, her ability to bring her astral form to me. The memory of her drunken smile makes my chest ache, but the fact that even in that state, she called herself mine keeps me standing.
My mate is doing what no one else has been able to do in centuries.
She’s cracking the spell from the outside.
