Page 105 of Drawn in Blood
His chest already felt lighter as he walked through the front door, the smell of Eira’s scones floating through the foyer.
“What on earth,” Eira gasped, as she walked out of the kitchen, her brow furrowed as she cupped Killian’s face. She clicked her tongue as she shook her head. “You children will be the death of me. Come in the kitchen. I’ve got an ointment that should take away the sting.”
“I’m fine, Mum, really,” Killian said, as he shook his head.
Eira cocked her brow, both hands on her hips as she stared at him. Killian swallowed dryly as he followed her into the kitchen. She was not a woman to argue with. Eira rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out vials and tins as she mumbled to herself.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked, as she began applying the tincture to his brow.
He winced as the wound pulsed and shook his head. “It was nothing,” he replied, “just a stupid mistake.” Not even Eira, withall her fire and strong will, could save him from his family, from who he was at his core.
She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t push any further. “Have you heard from Ember lately?”
Killian sucked in a breath. He couldn’t tell Eira and Otto where she was—couldn’t drag them into whatever mess was going on over there when they had enough to worry about. And if they found out what they were planning, she would lock them away until they were eighteen years old.
“Not lately,” he mumbled in reply.
Eira hummed something as she dabbed the last of the ointment on his face and closed the lid to the jar. “We all miss her,” she replied, as she patted his cheek, “both of them. You are not alone in your grief. Don’t shut out the ones that love you.”
Killian didn’t have the energy to argue.
“You made it!” Fen grinned as he walked into the kitchen, but his face fell when he saw his best friend’s face. The shock quickly turned to anger as he pursed his lips. Fen knew exactly where the bruises had come from.
“Can we eat upstairs?” he asked, as he turned to Eira. “We have some work to finish.”
Eira narrowed her eyes, then bobbed her head as she nodded toward the trays on the counter. “Don’t leave your plates upstairs. I don’t want bugs,” she said, as she put away her tonics and salves. “I’m down here if you need anything.” She smiled as she made her way through the back door, no doubt to round up Osiris and Otto before the shepherd’s pie grew cold. Killian stood in the kitchen for a beat, her words ringing in his ears.
I’m here.
If only she knew how much weight those words carried.
They boys made their way to Fen’s room where Fen proceeded to sit back at his desk and resumed scratching away at his notebook while he took bites of his supper.
“Did you ever get it to work?” Killian asked, as he settled himself on the bed. He knew the answer before he asked it, but he tried anyway. Fen shook his head, and they left it at that.
“I played with the code a little,” he said, as he picked up another bite of his food, “to see if maybe I could get the message to reach past the wards, but it didn’t work.”
Killian nodded—he’d expected as much. Whatever magic Helvig was wielding, it was strong. They wouldn’t get through it easily.
Just as they were finishing their supper, not even twenty minutes later, Fen’s phone screen flickered on the desk. Just a little. Both boys whipped their heads around, and it flickered again. This time for a little longer.
A connection.
“She’s by the wards,” Fen mumbled, eyes wide, shoving his plate to the side. His eyes met Killian’s and they both nodded—this was their chance. Fen clicked the button to record, and Killian knew he only had a few seconds before she was gone again.
“We’re coming, Starshine,” he said more clearly than he ever thought he could speak. “Don’t give up on me now. We’re coming.”
He could’ve sworn he felt the bond at his chest thrum in reply.
Chapter 34
The Same Star-Soaked Cloth
Ember stormed through the doors of the chateau later that afternoon, mind still reeling from her conversation with Rowan. She had told her to fake it, to pretend she was on board with all of Helvig and her mother’s sick plans. She had to play the part of a perfect princess, and it made her want to shove each and every one of them off a damn cliff.
She stomped through the house, a righteous anger burning deep in her belly, and found herself in front of her mother’s study. She didn’t know why, but she reached for the doorknob and pushed her way into the room. Gaelen had already started the fire for the night, making sure the room was warm and comfortable when Aoife came in for the evening. Amber light flickered across the rug, dancing against the setting sun beaming through the window. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away as anger built—rage replacing the grief of the life she imagined when her mother walked through the Kitts’ door.
She stalked across the room, ripping a pristine looking book from its home on the shelf, and started tearing it apart. One by one, she flung them across the room—tearing at the covers,shredding the prologues, tearing at the words that might’ve once brought her comfort.
