Page 101 of Werewolves and Witches AU

“Sarah taught me that our time holds value because it’s finite. It’s meant to be that way. We get this tiny pocket of time to exist in, and so we fight to make it the best it can be, and at the end is death. We can’t change that, and sometimes that feels so horribly unfair…” I sniff as more tears fall.

“But what’s more unfair, is that you can. We’re all out there every day fighting to make our short lives the best they can be, but because you’re scared to help us do that, hundreds of people—their lives and those of their families and loved ones—have been altered forever. And the one person who could help them is where? Singing Celine Dion in Mexico.

“It’s not the passage of time that’s cruel, Señora. It’s not the fact that it’s finite, or even that we have to fight for the little bit of it we do have. It’s that you’ve given up on us. And that’s a fate worse than death.”

My heart patters hard in my chest, and my hands are splayed out wide on the tablecloth. Everyone around us is silent, even the piano player has ceased her soft jazz. But I needed to say that on behalf of everyone who lost their voice because of Janus, someone who Time installed to a position of power and then declined to take responsibility for. I had to take the opportunity to speak up, or I’d have regretted it for the rest of my life.

But I’m also a little embarrassed, and heat floods my cheeks.

Rowan withdraws his hand from my leg, and instantly I feel unmoored. Panic builds. Until big strong arms wrap around me and drag me into his lap, where I’m pressed against an overly warm chest.

Into my hair, he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ proud of ye, Milo.”

From across the table, Señora Tiempo carefully dabs at her eyes with a napkin and adds, “Sí, Rowan. Quite remarkable.”

Her gaze locks onto mine. “You remind me of her—very much.”

From within my muscular nest of Scottish brawn, I straighten the best I can. “Remind you of who?”

Lady Time smiles, “Rosa Fidelis, your ancestor.”

She raises her hand in the air, and with a flick of her fingers, everyone resumes their business.

“The Fidelis Family Line, Milo, is one of the oldest in existence, and they always stood for faith, trust, and loyalty. You are their perfect ambassador.” Her dark eyes drift to Rowan. “Your wolf chose well. I hope you realise the value of what you hold.”

Not really understanding that comment, but very much enjoying the tightening of Rowan’s embrace all the same, I ask, “Rosa is who crafted the Luna del Lupo?”

Lady Time nods in the affirmative and blows out a long breath. “She was beautiful, and fiercely loyal. Savage with it, even. And she crafted that enchantment after we had an argument.”

Curious, I pull forward from Rowan’s arms, but leave my hands in his larger palms. “What about?”

“I… wasn’t in a good place. I’d told her that after the inauguration of the Office of Time, I planned to take a long vacation. She was afraid—rightly so, it transpires—that once I left, I wouldn’t come back. That those I’d appointed weren’t capable of holding the responsibility that would fall to them. She feared the worst, and cast the enchantment to protect her loved ones from the effects of an altered timeline.”

My sharp inhale is audible, and Señora Tiempo produces a self-deprecating chuckle.

“She was absolutely right. And of course she would rub that in my face if I could tell her.”

All I can do is nod my agreement, because yes.

“She’d fallen in love with a werewolf who had grand aspirations for an empire of his own—I believe you’re acquainted?”

Rowan’s grumbling growl precedes a tight nod.

“You should know that your Romulus promised to choose Rosa… then, when he had the benefit of her skills, he chose differently. A love like theirs would make him weak, he told her, and an Emperor couldn’t afford any weakness.”

Something important passes between the two, but I’m not following.

“So, she took back her enchantment and used it to protect her own.”

Absently, my fingers drift to where the Luna del Lupo is on my left hip. Rowan laces his fingers over the top.

“Of course, thanks to Milo—and the Dogs of War—Janus and Romulus’s corruption has been exposed and will now be dealt with.”

“What will happen to him now?” Rowan asks.

Scottish brogue and margaritas are a potentially dangerous combination.

Señora Tiempo shrugs. “Maybe a stay in one of his own little folds in the fabric of time will give him some space to reflect on what he’s done.”