Prudence didn’t knowwhy she said it. She had never thought that she’d share her dreams or her visions—they seemed like hallucinations more than anything else. She kept wondering if they were even real. Giving them voice felt surreal. And a touch like a betrayal.
The night of the fire changed everything.
The second she crossed the threshold of the burning building, she knew she wasn’t at Crow & Cat anymore. It was thesame brick, the same floor, but it was a different time. And she had been a different person. A different Fowler. Ophelia. And in the locked cell, choking on soot and smoke, was a different Crowhart. Elizabeth. Gwendolyn’s daughter.
Pru knew how everything worked now. The visions. The dreams. And the dying. It just made sense.
She watched Ophelia hit the cellar door, using all her power, the one she held dormant, the one she kept secret from her abuser, the one who left bruises and cuts on her body. The power that would’ve condemned her to the noose would save the one she loved most. Pru saw her almost drag the now prone Elizabeth out, pushing her up towards the stairs… The life they never got to live together, the tender moments, the children they never got to raise played in her mind’s eye and then…as the longing and panic mingled in Elizabeth’s eyes, Ophelia never saw the ceiling collapse on her. She never felt her own death.
All she saw, all she could feel, was love, the overwhelming, outpouring warmth and tenderness of those green eyes. In the moment before her life was over, Ophelia Fowler knew love, a love that was stronger than death. A love that would live again. A love that now lived in Prudence.
She wanted to take that vision to her grave. There was no need to burden Rhiannon with more sorrow. Goddess knew she carried too many. Rhiannon had been helpless and half-dead, and actually mostly dead, since Ceridwen couldn’t sense magic in her and… As Pru watched those beloved eyes widen at the revelation, shock overtaking those beautiful, tired features, she couldn’t take it anymore. Why oh why did she even bring up Ophelia?
She gave Rhiannon a quick kiss on the forehead and left the room. Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she walked into her own rain, and she was helpless to stop them.
Rhiannon never promised her anything, so why did those two words—I knew—hurt so much? So what if Rhiannon had always known that Prudence was Wind just like her? So what if everything indicated that they were fated? Even their ancestors and their tragic love that never saw the light of day out of shackles.
It changed nothing. Nothing at all. A few months from now, even if her father challenged Belcourt’s will as her rightful surviving husband, Rhiannon would be gone. Back to LA or New York or, really, anywhere else. It was a big world, and it would all be at her feet. She’d revive her auction house, and Pru?
Well, Pru had her bookshop and her possum and now her wind. And the thought of leaving Dragons and Crow’s Nest felt like a punch in the solar plexus, rendering her panicky and short of breath.
A sound across the street from her made her whirl around and come face-to-face with her father. Drenched and even paler than usual, he looked sad and old. All alone, just him and his cane, staring at her, eyes full of a plea she couldn’t decipher. She counted till ten and gave him a chance to speak, then when the seconds were up, she turned back to Ceridwen’s house.
She half expected him to leave, but once she was inside, the knock behind her told her that he’d probably found his courage.
Ceridwen and Victoria were the ones to answer to the door, with Deryn and Seren flanking Pru by the fireplace.
“I want to say some things. I’m not here for trouble.” His voice was weak. Pru took no pleasure in it.
“You’ve already caused all the trouble, bub. And Rhiannon is indisposed if it’s her you are looking to say those things to.” Victoria cut him exactly zero slack. Prudence couldn’t blame her.
“I don’t know if I have the courage to do that. Maybe you and Ceridwen could…” He trailed off, motioning upward toward the second floor with his trembling hands.
“Jesus wept, just like a man. We have to do your dirty work. You’re here to apologize, and we have to actually deliver the message?” Victoria threw her arms in the air but stepped aside. Pru assumed her nosy side was winning the argument against her cautious one.
Ceridwen said nothing, simply opened the door wider.
“Prudence…” He took a few steps into the room and then stopped, his eyes drinking her in, unblinking. “Are you all right?”
She wanted to give him nothing. To leave an climb into bed with Rhiannon and sleep. It didn’t matter that their relationship would end soon enough; at least she was living the truth there. She had always known exactly where she stood with Rhiannon. With her father? Twenty-eight years and she didn’t have an idea. Who was he? All she seemed to know about him was that he wasted his life on hate and fear and now his chickens had all come home to roost. When she didn’t respond, he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and lowered his eyes. Then he spoke.
“I am withdrawing from the mayoral race. The support group will elect someone else to stand for me, but I cannot in good conscience run again?—”
“Good conscience? Do you even have one at all, not to mention good?” Deryn let her words fly and made a move to come closer to him. Seren reached and drew her back by one of the belt loops on her skinny ripped-up jeans.
He didn’t answer, just nodded and kept his gaze down.
“I am stepping aside because I would like to not bring pain and discomfort to Prudence.”
“You mean more? More pain and discomfort?”
Victoria leaned back against the cushions of the luscious couch and gave him the stinkiest of eyes.
“Yes, more.” He didn’t argue, and his tone didn’t change. He just let the slaps come and kept talking. Pru wanted to say she was impressed, but she sensed an ulterior motive.
“You see, if my marital situation is to come to light, it would embarrass and hurt to everyone involved.”
Pru rolled her eyes. Of course. Consequences. Victoria scoffed. Deryn’s face was a picture of disgust.
