He shrugs, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Effective, though."
"True enough." I scan the room, noting the mix of fear and fascination on the surrounding faces. Good. Let them be afraid.
I get the sense that every word Marius spoke was no empty threat, either. There’s nothing about him that makes me think he wouldn’t be capable of everything he described.
As we walk away, the whispers start up again. But this time, they're not about Brigid. They're about us. Let them remember who they're fucking with.
Outside the dining hall, I lean against the wall and exhale. "Thanks."
Marius grunts. "Wasn't for you. It was for her."
I nod.
"How is she?"
I tell him what Tiernan and Rory told me. "I think she’s struggling. The Morrigan’s still there, but she’s keeping her controlled, so far."
"Fuck." He runs a hand through his hair. "And the Council?"
"They're scared of her now. Of what she could become."
"They should be."
I nod, studying Marius. There's an edge to him now, even more of a disturbing darkness that wasn't there before. The Raven King may be gone, but he's left his mark. "We need to figure out our next move. The Council won't stay quiet for long."
Marius's eyes darken. "Let them come. I'll tear them apart."
"It's not that simple," I say, though part of me wishes it was. "We need a plan. Something to keep Brigid safe and deal with the Council at the same time."
He scoffs. "Plans. Politics. That's your game, princeling. I prefer more direct methods."
I bite back a snide remark. Now's not the time. "Your 'direct methods' have their place. But we need strategy, too."
Marius falls silent, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nods. "Fine. What did you have in mind?"
I glance around, making sure we're alone. "First, we need to consolidate our position. The throne can't sit empty for long."
Understanding dawns in his eyes. "You're going to claim it."
"I don't have a choice," I say, the words tasting bitter.“If I don't, the Council will.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brigid
I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping and eating in my room, and I need some air, need to walk and get some exercise. Rory and Tiernan want to come with me, but told them it was fine, they don’t need to babysit me. Callen and Lochan stopped by earlier, and while I understand and feel grateful for their concern, it’s all getting to be a bit suffocating. Lochan and I have a lot to talk about—eventually we will need some time alone. Later. For now, I just want to stretch my legs and feel normal again, even if just for a few minutes.
It feels so weird to be back at the academy, walking around as if nothing’s changed. As if I don’t have the goddess of chaos, fate, and death trapped inside me. I can feel her, she’s there, and she’s angry. She’d crack open the world if I were to let her out.
But for now, the Morrigan is a faint presence, like a vague memory, or déjà vu. It’s there, but I can’t quite focus on it, can’t quite grasp it.
A first-year druid girl freezes ahead, books clutched to her chest like pearls. Her eyes dart to mine before she pivots sharply into an alcove. Behind me, whispers shred the silence. People talking about the Council and stolen dark magic. I keep my shoulders rigid, chin up, but my nails bite crescents into my palms.
Let them gawk. Let them flinch. I’m still here. Still me.
A shadow peels from the wall ahead, lean and familiar, and Marius falls into step beside me without a word. This is the first time I’ve seen him since we’ve been back—he’s the only one who hasn’t hovered. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been worried, but I don’t think that’s it. I think he was handling me how he would want to be handled—left alone, to heal. His shoulder brushes mine, and the Raven King’s power inside me hums, recognizing its old master. The tattoos sleeving his arms are blurred now, edges dissolving like smoke, and fainter. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t have to. The bond between us is there, taut as a bowstring.
Neither of us has spoken a single word as we turn into a disused staircase, the air stale with mildew. As we reach the third door on the left, Marius opens it, revealing a storage room choked with too many desks and moth-eaten drapes, and gestures with one arm for me to go ahead of him. Dust motes swirl in the weak light coming in through a grimy window. He closes the door and leans against the frame, arms crossed.“They’re scared of you.”
