“What do we do about Varian, brother?” Gwinifer asked, amusement lacing her tone.
Reagan smiled at me knowingly, tilting his head with a satisfied look.
Someone cleared their throat. Finn. I kept my eyes on the Mage Lord as he turned my hand over and brought my palm to his mouth.
Oh, gods.
I forced back the ghost of a smile. They were all staring, waiting for his answer, including me, stunned by the blatant display. A distraction, perhaps. Reagan dragged my thumb lazily across his lips, then pressed all the others, grazing his teeth along my forefinger. My toes curled at the near bite.
Cerridwen’s chin dropped slightly, her arms crossed against her maroon blouse, but I could have sworn I saw a hint of a twitch in the corner of her lip.
Reagan said at last, “We may or may not uncover proof of his hand in the attack, but I won’t wait to be sure before addressing what he did at the Rite.”
His gaze swept over the faces gathered at the table, his grip still firm around mine. “He spoke deliberate slander against an emissary of this estate. Against a member of the staff of Mountheim Hall. We don’t tolerate that. A decree will be issued forbidding Varian Ilya from setting foot in Mountheim. Fromthis moment forward, he is an enemy of the estate, and should he dare cross our borders, he will be treated as a threat and dealt with accordingly.”
Across the table, Gwin’s smile was a baleful show of teeth.
???
I’d been scouring my mind, trying to remember the name of the symbols adorning people’s robes at the Aurora Rite. They were runes.
The book I found described them as remnants of an ancient language. Symbols imbued with power when written on a surface. Impressive, really. That explained why they were embroidered on the clothes. Each rune had a singular purpose.
I sank into the chair in the study, a sheet of parchment before me, along with a vial of ink and a waiting quill. My gaze flicked between the book and the empty page, centring on my intent.
The Algiz rune was a guardian. Not against something as monstrous as a Grim, but against spells, influence, harm. A shield. And if it could be drawn, then perhaps its power could be harnessed. Perhaps even by a human.
Dipping the quill into ink, I traced the symbol with deliberate precision, each stroke measured. When I finished, I lifted the parchment and carried it to the mantel, feeding it to the spell-bound fire, the one never kindled, never extinguished, because its flames were sustained by an enduring charm. Exactly the kind of threat I needed.
Minutes passed. Then, with the long iron poker, I searched between the flames, squinting through the brightness. As soon as I saw it, a smile spread across my face.
The paper lay intact. Unscathed. Untouched by the flames.
I took a deep breath. It was protection, and now I could claim a fraction of that safety. At all times.
I gathered the books, setting them aside before retreating to my chamber. My throat worked as I swallowed, my mind fixed on the task ahead.
With the door closed, I stepped into the washroom, eased out of my trousers, and sank onto the floor.
My thoughts latched onto the smallest dagger resting before me, its sharp edge glinting like a terrible idea.
It had to be precise, just like the parchment.
If I could manage it a few times, I would get a perfect, clear scar in an area easily concealed with clothing, where very few blood vessels ran. A warding scar.
With a steady breath, my fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt, and I pressed the blade to my upper thigh.
???
A few days later, Reagan sat alone in the dining room, a sheet of parchment spread out before him. He was focused on the letter.
There was an idea brewing in my mind, a foolish one that I wasn’t sure would work. Still, my growing need to know was outweighing my doubts quickly.
We hadn’t had much time to see each other in the past few days. Reagan had been consumed with security meetings and rushing off to the borders to test the wards that had failed. I was either training with Gwin or reading anything that might help me defend myself. What happened in Erisea still haunted me.
The staff knew that our relationship had developed, but if they had any questions, they kept them to themselves.
Yesterday, he’d returned, and we spent another night together, indulging a need that made my blood heat, my mind blanking each time Reagan drove into me. I could still feel hischest pressed to my back, his teeth grazing my shoulder, my neck.
