Xavier’s eyes flashed with a sharp intensity as he took in my words. I then proceeded to tell him all that had happened, and Xavier listened intently. He pulled the amulet out of his pocket and stared at it. “I'll have Julian run another work up on you to make sure what she gave you wasn’t something more than what she said.”
I narrowed my eyes at him again in anger. “Release Jaxon. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal,” I spat, and Xavier fixed me with an incredulous stare.
“He ripped my soul, opened a realm, released a monster, and you sit there and tell me he isn’t a criminal?” Xavier growled, his voice low and dangerous.
When he put it that way, it sounded horrible. “It's not as simple as that, and you know it.”
Xavier huffed, and I stared at him as he stood pocketing the amulet again.
“Gunnar had to return to Niverrian, but we will travel there once you are healed. Without their talismans, they can’t access our magic, but it is still twisted with theirs. Gunnar is working on a way to untwist and release our souls from the bargain tied to the objects.”
My heart sank at his words—she still had it, part of my soul. My mother… no, not my mother. Her words crashed back into my mind, suffocating me as the truth settled deep into my bones. She wasn’t my mother. Relief washed over me at the thought that the witch wasn’t my blood, but the realization still chilled me, tightening around my chest like a vice.
How much of my life had been a lie? How much of what I thought was love had been manipulation?
“I’ll have Julian send up some food for you. You must be starving,” Xavier added, turning toward the door.
At the mention of food, my stomach growled in pain. “How long have I been asleep?” I asked, and Xavier seemed to wince, turning back to face me.
“A week,” he admitted, his voice tight.
“A week?!” I shouted. I had been asleep for a week?!
Xavier nodded. “We had to ensure you healed properly and gave you a sedative. We didn’t want you waking up in a panic like you did the last time and having to start over again.”
“So, you drugged me?” I said, astonished by his admission. They drugged me!?
“No,” he said simply. “Julian did.” Xavier flashed me a grin and walked out of the room. As he shut the door behind him with a soft click, I stared after him incredulously.
I rubbed my face, and a flash of silver caught my eye. Glancing down at my wrist, I discovered it was bound with a charm once more. Panic surged through me, but the idea of returning home to that witch was even more terrifying than the charm's pain. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax back into the bed.
Nothing good awaited me back home—that was if I even had a home at all anymore.
Chapter 22
Xavier
The stone corridor loomed before me, damp and dark, the faint drip of water echoing off the walls as I descended the winding stairway to the dungeons. The cold air clung to my skin, heavy with the smell of mildew.
Much to Aria’s annoyance, I hadn’t been down to see him all week. She's been itching to talk to him, but I wouldn’t let anyone near him until I'd spoken to him first.
The truth was, my fury had been too raw, too unstable to face my brother. I needed time—to make sure Zara was alright, to hear her side of what happened before I confronted him.
The memory of that night haunted me. Julian and Gunnar had still been in my room when Jaxon appeared, clutching Zara’s limp form. Blood had soaked her shoulder, pouring through his fingers like sand. I had ripped her away from him in a blind panic, and Julian and Gunnar had taken her swiftly, working to heal her while I stood by, never leaving her side.
Jaxon had been injured also, though nowhere near as gravely. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, and when he finally spoke, hisvoice had been barely more than a whisper. “Morgana,” he had said, his expression one of defeat, like a bird too wounded to fly.
But even then, my rage wouldn’t allow me to feel pity for him. I hadn’t wanted to see the remorse… the regret in his eyes, and I had shadowed him down here without thought.
Julian had looked in on him and his injury, gathering the information we needed on what had happened, but the thought of losing Zara—of losing Jaxon—toher, twisted something deep inside me. I had already lost enough loved ones because ofher.
Reckless. The word echoed through my mind as I descended deeper, my boots clicking against the damp stone floor.
The air was thick with silence, save for the rhythmic sound of my steps, until I reached a heavy wooden door. Its hinges protested with a shrill creak, and the bottom scraped against the stone floor. We hadn’t had prisoners down here since the war, but memories of us playing down here as kids tugged at the edges of my mind.
I passed rows of barred cells, each one more shadowed and foreboding than the last until I finally reached his cell.
“Brother,” Jaxon’s voice echoed from the dark recess of the cell. His figure was barely visible, hidden among the shadows, until he stepped forward, his golden eyes meeting mine.
