"It worked." My voice sounds wrong to my ears.
Brigid's face floats before me, her stupid gray eyes, her shadow magic. The chosen one. Special. Important.
"She thinks she's untouchable." I say to no one. "But I'm going to show Brigid what real power looks like." The name tastes like poison on my tongue. "Her death has been postponed long enough."
In my mind, I already see her bleeding out beneath me, her precious shadow magic extinguished. I see myself absorbing what makes her special, becoming the only one who matters.
I step over Nester's body, my new power surging with each heartbeat.
This ends tonight.
Chapter Forty Two
Brigid
The cardboard box sinks under the weight of my sweaters as I place another folded garment on top. Around me, my room sits half-dismantled—clothes in piles, books in stacks. Moving in with my mates. The thought still doesn't feel real.
My fingers linger on the soft fabric of my favorite yellow cardigan. It reminds me of my old life, before. Even though I’m just moving to a different room in the building, this feels like crossing from one life into another.
"You're being melodramatic," I mutter to myself, shoving the sweater into the box with more force than necessary.
After everything that's happened since I arrived at the academy—discovering my shadow magic, learning about the prophecy, nearly dying during the Harrowing—moving in with a bunch of men bound to me by fate feels like the least crazy part.
I think of my old self. Would she understand any of this? The fated mate bond that ties me to Lochan, Callen, Rory, Marius, and Tiernan? The shadow magic that pulses beneath my skin? The destiny in my blood?
"She'd probably tell me to pack faster," I say to the empty room.
The excitement bubbles up again, warring with the knot of anxiety in my stomach. I want this. I want them. But there's that voice in the back of my head—the one that sounds suspiciously like my aunt—whispering about how I'll mess this up, how I always do.
My hands stop mid-fold over a stack of t-shirts. What if moving in with them changes things? What if they see all my flaws up close and realize I'm not worth the trouble? I leave my underwear lying on the floor. Sometimes I have two or three empty tea cups on my nightstand. I’m grumpy if I don’t get enough sleep. They’re going to have to live with me and all of my shortcomings. I might be a queen now, but I still snore. What if they change their minds, fate be damned?
Three sharp knocks on my door cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I freeze, fingers still clutching the shirt. The knocks come again, more insistent this time.
Something's wrong. I can feel it. My magic stirs in response.
"Just a second," I call.
I move toward the door, and with each step, the feeling of wrongness intensifies. By the time I reach the door, my heart hammers against my ribs.
I pause, hand hovering over the doorknob. The magic inside me whispers warnings. Whatever waits on the other side of this door, it's not good news.
"Who is it?" I ask. It’s not one of the boys; they have a distinct inability to understand the principle behind knocking and waiting to be invited inside.
No answer comes.
The silence stretches. I could ignore it. Go back to packing. Call one of my mates.
Instead, I grasp the doorknob and pull it open. Whatever awaits on the other side is unavoidable. I know that instinctively.
Eira stands in my doorway.
"What do you want?" I keep my voice flat, cold. The memory of her betrayal is still painful. Her revealing the location of the ritual chamber, setting everything in motion that nearly got me, and the men I loved, killed.
"Brigid, please." Her voice comes out breathless, rushed. "I need to talk to you."
I cross my arms tightly over my chest. "I think we've talked enough."
