I stood in the silence, staring at nothing.
When I headed to find Nibble, I caught myself smiling.
Daphne
Sugar, secrets, and a sassy fruit bat
The wards’ hum deep in the manor’s roots grew louder after Emrys left. As if my presence had awakened something in the bones of the old building, and its awareness of me was growing stronger by the minute. My fingers drifted over the piano keys, playing a soft melody Mother loved, but my mind wasn’t calm. Not even close.
If I somehow brought the wards down, he’d be free. A force with wings and power unlike anything I’d ever seen. The world beyond these walls had no idea what slumbered here, cloaked in sarcasm and half-buttoned shirts.
Unleash the lion, let him tear down the circus. Then vanish in the smoke. Chills ran down my spine when I remembered the pictures of kings bowing to him.
“Think, Daphne, think!” I murmured, rubbing my temples. This was my only shot at freedom—away from Arthur, away from Vexley’s hell. If I bring down these wards, then the eyes—and claws—of everyone and everything lurking around this place would be on him. The Hollowborn, Vexley’s men, even the Renegade—everyone would be busy chasing him.
And while they tore each other apart?
I’d run. I’d make myself small, invisible, like I’d learned under Arthur’s watchful eye. Slip out the back while the gods and monsters screamed. And Emrys? I frowned. Why did I even care about him? Everyone painted him a monster, but he’d shown me only kindness since we met.
And yet… the Renegade had marked me. I took a deep breath, assessing every part of my body. I felt great. My bruises were fading, my belly was full. There was no sign of some lingering threat inside me.
It was all a trick, a manipulation, I tried to convince myself. There was no scar or any other proof this had happened. I was beaten, sedated, and tired. Probably, I imagined that horror. But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let that stop me.
I would figure it out from a sunny porch somewhere in Italy.
The more I considered the plan, the more I liked it. But something important was missing: power. Emrys, for all his strength, hadn’t broken the wards. So how could I?
“Because the wards were made for him, silly girl. They are not just stone and spell—they are personal. Forged with something intimate. Blood, names, pain. Whoever cast them knew him inside out,” the Unbidden whispered. “I could help… at a price,” its voice unrolled like silk sails in the sea breeze.
“Do you know him, too?” I asked.
It cackled. “Oh yes, I knew him once. And I know the magic that wove the wards. It was not meant for my kind. I can see the faults in the spell.”
I stood in the silence for a moment, my fingers resting on the keys.
Of course.
The ally I needed had been with me all along.
I rose from the piano chair, every limb buzzing. The meal and the wine had dulled nothing. If anything, they’d sharpened my determination.
Milan was closer than ever.
For the first time in weeks, hope rose in my heart, beautiful like the first sun rays after a long winter night.
“Tomorrow night,” I whispered to myself and made for my room.
An hour later, I tossed and turned on the bed, trying to find the right spot on the soft mattress.
“Branwyn…”
The name haunted me. The way he looked at me—like I’d become someone else, someone he remembered.
I pulled the blanket over my face, breathing in the lavender scent clinging to the linens. Maybe sleep would make sense of this. Maybe—
A soft clink interrupted my thoughts.
I jumped.
