Life has been unfair, but I’m not alone. I have a found family. I have Flyn.
A wide, stupid grin spreads across my face. Just as I’m trying to fight it, I hear soft footsteps on the stairs. I’m pretty sure it’s Flyn, tiptoeing down to see if I’m awake.
I sit up a little straighter, smoothing the blanket across my lap like I haven’t just been grinning at the memory of his smile. No use letting him know he has that effect on me. He’s smug enough already.
The old lock clicks, and the door creaks open just enough to let in a sliver of golden light. I blink, eyes adjusting from the dim lighting of the dungeon. And then there he is, Flyn, all tousled hair and sunshine, balancing a tray with two mugs and something that smells suspiciously like ginger biscuits.
He catches me looking and flashes a grin. “Knew you were faking.”
“I wasn’t faking,” I say, sitting back against the headboard. “I was simply… meditating.”
“Sure.” He shuts the door behind him with a gentle thud and pads across the room, his trainers silent on the rug. “Because nothing says ‘deep spiritual practice’ like fake snoring for ten minutes and then sighing like you’re in a Jane Austen adaptation.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch. “You’re very mouthy for someone who wants to be let into my magical panic bunker.”
He places the tray on the side table and hands me one of the mugs. Earl Grey Tea. Of course it is. He’s gone full British countryside already.
“You’re lucky I didn’t bring you kale.”
“I’d hex it.”
He gives me a mock-wounded look and settles at the foot of the bed, legs folded beneath him. For a moment, it’s quiet between us. Warm. Comfortable. I sip the tea and watch him from under my lashes. He’s trying not to fuss, but I can see the tension around his eyes. I can see it in the way he keeps sneaking glances at the glowing runes that pulse faintly along the far wall. I don’t think he can see them, but some part of him clearly senses something.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I am. Better, actually. The wards are working. I feel... clearer.”
It’s true. There’s a heaviness that’s lifted. A heaviness I didn’t even realize was there until it was gone. Now I don’t feel that creeping static under my skin, or the whispering at the edges of my thoughts. The dungeon’s enchantments are doing their job. Keeping me grounded, present. Keepingthemout.
Flyn lets out a soft breath, as if he’s been holding it for hours. Maybe he has. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along my wrist, light and careful. “I hate that you have to be down here.”
“I don’t,” I say quietly. “I’d rather be safe than risk hurting any of you.”
“You wouldn’t hurt us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I knowyou.” His voice is steady, and it hits me in the chest harder than I expect. “Jade, whatever’s happening, whatever magic’s inside you, it’syours.Not theirs. Not the people who usedyou. Not the ones who want to use you now. You don’t belong to anyone.”
The words are warm. Kind. They make something inside me ache. Because I want to believe him. I really do.
“I’m trying,” I whisper.
“I know.”
He leans forward, brushing his forehead against mine for a heartbeat. The contact is grounding, real, human. Not magic. Just us.
“I brought Paddington,” he says after a moment, reaching into the tote bag I hadn’t noticed slung over his shoulder. “Thought it might soothe your savage inner beast.”
“Paddington?”
“Look, don’t knock it. That bear has emotionally wrecked harder men than you and me,” he says as he proudly holds the DVD aloft.
I chuckle, and he beams like he’s just won something.
