The boy didn’t speak, but he took Reagan’s hand.
“Now go inside. Please,” Reagan asked.
I left the moment he and the child flung away, my gaze flicking over my shoulder at the mostly emptied courtyard.
Something streaked past me.
I spun, my feet tangling in the fabric of my dress, and fell to my knees. Cursing, I looked up, straining to make out the sky. Something had flown too close, but in the dark, I could barely see it.
My vision felt dull, less sharp than before, as I tried to distinguish the blurry shadows. Then, a shape hovered at the edge of the tree line, dimly illuminated by the light from the entrance.
I recognised it.
Even more horrifying in person. Its long, dark hair veiled half of its tattered body, impossibly long limbs stretching unnaturally, and its face...two empty sockets above a gaping, toothless black maw.
My arms prickled. My chest sank.
I knew I couldn’t fight it; only a spell could end the creature that sought to steal what it no longer had. Somehow, those hollow sockets stared right at me.
Wraith.
There was no one else near me. It probably couldn’t tell a mageborn from a human, but I didn’t want to find out if it could still hurt me.
I bolted for the staircase, refusing to glance back. The arched doors burst open, and I leapt.
???
I paced around in my chambers, too agitated to sleep.
From my window, I couldn’t see the courtyard that held the Rite. There was only darkness and the howling wind. No sign of the battle mages, nor the castle staff within the hallways, who were probably still securing all guests in their homes after the attack on Mountheim Hall.
An hour passed before I went to bathe, the need to wash away the chill from the night pulling me toward the tub. But despite the warmth of the water, despite sinking into the soft fabric of my nightgown, as I looked out of my window, I couldn’t quiet the worries in my head. Couldn’t stop searching for a reason behind an attack of this scale.
Eventually, I stretched out on the bed. It was an hour, maybe two, before the faintest knock sounded at the door. Trepidation tightened my muscles as I slipped into my robe and padded toward the door.
“It’s me,” Reagan whispered.
I cursed under my breath, my hand moving mindlessly to my chest before I opened the door. He was there, his hair slightly damp, his clothes different from before. Clean.
He had rid himself of the gruesome stench of Grim.
“You all right?” he asked, a faint tightness to his lips.
I stepped into the doorway, scanning the hallway for anyone else, but found it empty. “Yes...Is the boy all right?”
“Fine. Back with his parents.”
My relief was instant. “Is anyone hurt? Finn? Gwinifer?”
He shook his head, no doubt catching the worry in my tone. Reagan made a move to step forward but hesitated, letting his hands settle on the doorframe instead. “They’re fine. Everyone is back in their homes, and the wards are up.”
But there was no relief in his words, only a sense of caution, a quiet readiness. His eyes lingered on me, as if he were making sure I was fine. Safe.
Maybe he had noticed that my eyes had returned to their normal hue.
Gods. As if that should even matter right now.
“I need to go,” Reagan said. “I need to figure out how to handle the chaos and the fallout from today.”
