Page 48 of Heavy is the Crown
“Ciaran could have taken me long ago, and he didn’t,” I remind them. “I don’t think anything changes; they are our allies.”
Drago growls, his dragon rumbling, but Shadow speaks up over it. “I agree with Ava. They didn’t have to tell me Ava was in trouble; they didn’t have to help us. But they did. At the very least, we need to give them a chance to talk with us and explain.”
Jackson squeezes his hands into fists before tapping his fingers across his thigh, an anxious movement he’s had since we were kids. When we were growing up, my mother and father came down hard on him for his anxiety, so he adopted movements to help manage it that they wouldn’t notice. He had gotten it more under control before I left, but seeing him now, he looks fucking tired. Others may not notice, but I can see it in his eyes, the weariness that slips through every now and again. The anxiety that bleeds into his silver eyes when he thinks we aren’t looking.
“What’s going on, Jackson? What aren’t you saying?” I ask.
He cuts me a sharp look, to which I only raise an eyebrow. His face falls. “Hell is not doing well . . . The Knights have left my service. And creatures of old are waking. Someone or something broke the magic keeping them contained to their corner of Hell. Whole towns have been destroyed. People are afraid to go out after nightfall, and with the Knights gone, I have very few resources. Oisin has taken over the palace with the help of the Knights. I’m surviving, barely, with the help of loyal citizens.”
“Fuck.” The word whooshes from me as the seriousness of this situation settles into my gut like a lead ball.
“What are the Knights?” Shadow asks.
I answer first. “The Knights of Hell are demons who serve the ruler of Hell. It means someone of the royal family is helpinghim, and we all know the only one who would do that. Tell me, brother, do you know where our dear mother is?” The anger is hard to keep from my voice. Jackson has always given our mother the benefit of the doubt, but me, I’ve always seen her for exactly what she is: a pit viper waiting to strike.
Jackson grabs the tumbler of whiskey in front of him and shoots it back before screaming, “Fuck!” and throwing the whole glass at the wall. The glass shatters, wet shards glittering as they fall to the ground.
“You need to find out who is loyal to you, Jackson, build your own court now,” Drago says. Under his breath, he grumbles, “And stop fucking up my walls.”
I agree with Drago, but exhaustion pulls at me harder. Like an undercurrent in the river, I can feel it tugging me deeper and deeper.
“While you all argue and scheme, you are ignoring the vital issue of Ava fading fast. Maybe we should get the interrogation over with?” Astrea’s voice filters in through the haze of my exhaustion. Jackson lets out a low growl that Drago echoes.
I watch Jackson look Ciaran over, as if he is attempting to see any resemblance to Oisin. He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “So, start fucking talking.”
Drago
My new mistrust for Astrea and Ciaran wars against a feeling of allegiance to Ciaran for rescuing Shadow when I could not. I know Ava feels an almost blind trust for them. Jackson clearly doesn’t trust them at all, and Shadow is . . . somewhere in the middle.
“You have to understand, my mother had no interest in The Order. Kara went to Hell for information on the Harbinger magic. That’s how they met. She fled my father as soon as she knew she was pregnant. Straight into the arms of Alexi. When my powers started to manifest, my mother knew I needed guidance.”
“She couldn’t do that?” Shadow growls.
It’s Jackson who answers, though. “No. He would have needed someone who understood Hell’s magic to help him.”
Ciaran nods. “She had done her best to hide what I was. A half witch, half vampire was bad enough in her eyes. She had no interest in alerting people to my ties to Hell. But she couldn’t hide me for long. Not from Alexi, anyway. So, she attempted to contact my real father, but he was long dead. Instead, we got Oisin.” A shudder moves through the room, coming from Jackson, but Ciaran ignores him. “I have hated Alexi my whole life, so when Oisin spoke of creating a place where Alexi didn’t exist and we ruled, how could I say no? I wanted power. It felt good to have it coursing through my veins, and I wanted more. I had spent so long being at the mercy of that asshole, I couldn’t say no.”
“How did I never see you?” Jackson interrupts. His face is haunted, and he’s continued the tapping on his leg, a motion I’m not clear he realizes he is doing.
Ciaran cuts his gaze to him. “Oisin is smart. He knew if I came around, the illusion would be shattered. But in the end, it was my mother who ended up cutting him from our lives. She took my memories and locked my magic away. Kept me safe from him.”
“So, what changed?” I ask, finally finding my voice. “You obviously managed to gain you're memories back and not hand over the city.”
He pauses, as if trying to decide how much he should share. “When she died the magic that held back my memories lost its hold.” Astrea nudges him with her foot, encouraging him to keep going. He glances toward Shadow, locking eyes with my mate. He goes to open his mouth but then seems to think better of it. A long sigh echoes out of him, and Astrea wraps her arms around him. Finally, he admits, “And Shadow was why I couldn’t hand over the city. He was the first real connection I had. I realized what true friendship was, what true family was. When I pulled him from the aviary that day, I knew he was my family, not Oisin. He was who I couldn’t live without. It was why I couldn’t take Ava. Once I knew what she was to Shadow, I couldn’t take her from him.”
“But you told him,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “You told him about my sister.”
He grimaces. “Yes. I spoke of her before I understood what I was doing. It was the final act of allegiance to him, and I’ll live the rest of my life regretting it.” There is a pregnant pause in the room, the scent of anger simmering below the surface. It’s hard to say from whom, but it floods the space.
Ava holds her hand up, as if she, too, senses the anger. “So, why not use Jackson? He was fucking him long enough. What changed? Why me?”
“He needs a queen. And The Order may have power, and be gaining more as we speak, but there are still people loyal to the royal family. If he shows Ava at his side, he will crush the last piece of resistance. She’s their missing princess; imagine how it will look should he return with her.”
Ava’s anxiety picks up. The scent of it is overwhelming to my dragon, and he shifts angrily under my skin. I don’t have to look at Shadow to know he feels the same, but Ciaran doesn’t stop. “He knows how to harness your magic, and with the witches,he can create a powerful binding spell. You would be his for eternity.”
The room vibrates as Shadow and I attempt to regain control of our dragons at the idea of this happening. Ava grabs our hands, squeezing tightly to keep us under control. Astrea moves forward, and without thinking, I launch myself between her and my mates, teeth bared, eyes blazing. Astrea rolls her eyes, but Ciaran moves up closer, eyeing me in a way I’ve never seen.
“I like you, Drago, but touch Astrea and I will slit your throat right here,” he says in a low, feral tone. The room is thick with tension as I lock eyes with him. I feel Shadow slowly easing up behind me, the conflict in him evident as he shifts from side to side.
