Brie
I pull the stool out from under my vanity, sinking down and facing Blake. I’m older than him by a few months. We’ve always been close, even when we were younger, and he tended to want to play rowdy boy games with Aris. He always sat quietly and played tea-party with me, though, without fail.
He’s also the pariah of the family and knows it. His powers rival Ryatt’s, which is a terrifying thought. In fact, I often question who’s more powerful–him or Maeve?
But that’s not a fair question at the moment, given that Maeve’s powers aren’t even fully developed yet. Blake, however… he exudes energy that makes my skin tingle as he sits in my desk chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You found us, didn’t you?”
He nods, a flash of guilt darkening his irises. “I admit I didn’t even look until Maeve cornered me. She felt you, she said. Sensed your arrival back in our waters.”
I wonder how much Logan told the family. Probably everything, I’m sure. That man can talk, and I love that about him, which means I don’t have to fill in any gaps.
It’s a relief, to say the least.
“You know we were in KiloKilo, then?”
He knits his fingers together and rests his chin on his knuckles with another nod. Blake barely blinks. I can see why people are so unnerved by him. He just… gazes into peoples’ souls, against their will and his, I think. It’s just who–and what–he is.
“The media has no idea you’re home and safe, and the family is going to keep it that way for now. My dad is in Moonrise today preparing a joint statement with Ella and Ryatt about your return, but the details of what happened are going to remain private.” He takes a breath before continuing, “So is the news about the first of our generation finding their mates.”
“Well, I would hope so. That’s not the public’s business–”
“It is, and will be, especially when a wedding is announced.”
“You sound like your father right now.”
“I’m telling you what I know, what’s been discussed in your absence.”
“What else did I miss?”
He untangles his fingers and smooths his hands over his thighs. “The men who attacked you on the yacht were Hannibal Arachnis’s men. Do you remember any of their details?”
“You should ask Logan. He was the one who fought them off.” I clear my throat as the memory spins through my mind. “I remember one, but the others… I never met them.”
“What did he look like?”
“Like a rat,” I murmur, swallowing hard. “Short, spindly. He barely had any hair.” I notice an odd emotion sweep across Blake’s face, something akin to relief. That’s probably not what I’m exactly seeing, though, knowing Blake as well as I do. He’s always been impossible to read.
“When you were dead,” he says, “or, at least, presumed to be floating at the bottom of the ocean–” I frown, but Blake continues without skipping a beat, “the Allied Kings moved their forces into Eastonia to try to locate anyone even remotely suspected to be aligned with the Spider in an effort to locate him, to make him pay for this.”
“Are you saying he’s been caught.”
“No, he hasn’t. Nothing the Ghosts, or the spies and warriors my line of the family has in their arsenal, have come up with any leads. We hit dead ends at every turn.”
“Can you just… find him?”
Blake’s expression goes completely blank, void of emotion whatsoever. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“You found me.”
“You’re family. We’re connected,” he says. “I couldn’t locate you in KiloKilo because of the magic veiling that kingdom and its waters, but otherwise, I could slip into the stars and find you pretty much immediately.”
“But not Hannibal? Doesn’t the family have piles of evidence against him and his cronies by now? He’s been terrorizing the packlands for the past decade!”
“He’s… different. Some kind of magical being. It’s rumored he has witch blood somehow–whether a direct descendant of a witch, or something else, but he has the ability to shield himself, or his lair is somewhere my powers–the family’s powers–can’t reach.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears, taking a deep, restorative breath. “I don’t care about the Spider–”
“You should, because everything he’s doing right now is to undermine the royal family of Eastonia–your line, Brie–in an attempt to split the kingdom as Maeve comes into power.”
“And you know that for a fact?”
“Yes. The assassination attempt on you was the nail in his coffin.”
“Why are we talking about this right now?” I ask, rising and smoothing the wrinkles in my pajamas. “We just got back–”
“It’s highly likely Logan will be deployed with the Ghosts into Tarsian.”
“No, he’s on leave for the rest of the summer,” I reply, but unease prickles over my skin, causing it to pebble. “He isn’t active again until after the harvest festival in the Deadlands–it’s always been that way for him–”
“Things have changed–”
“How?”
“We’ll find out when our dads return from Moonrise,” he says under his breath. His tone is ragged with guilt that sends warning bells skirting from one side of my skull to the other.
He rises, his arms crossed over his chest as he paces to the window overlooking my bed and stops, his eyes on the city below.
“Where’s Maeve?” I ask, watching the fabric of his shirt flex as his broad shoulders tense.
“Downstairs, I assume, with the rest of the family. They’re waiting for you to feel well enough to handle being bombarded with attention–”
“Thank you for finding us. For helping her do it. I know how–I know the two of you have a hard time getting along.”
He chuckles low and dark, shaking his head, his dark hair rippling as he turns his head to look at me over his shoulder. His lips part like he’s about to say something cutting, but I stop him, raising my hand to silence him.
“She’s a teenager, Blake. She’s young. She’ll grow up eventually.”
“She’ll be younger than us when she takes over Eastonia. She’s not ready. She won’t be ready.”
“I know, but she has to be. It’s not our fight, you know that.”
“You made it your fight. Your whole life’s purpose. What changed?” There’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like–it’s sharp, meant to ruffle my feathers.
I don’t fall for the bait. “You know what changed. He’s downstairs, right now, fetching his mate something to eat.”
Blake stares at me, scanning my face. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me–at any of us. I wonder if he can, truly, see our futures. That’s what he’s rumored to be able to do. Sarah explained it to me once, that is like seeing an option in the future. A single deviation from the timeline could change everything–from taking a different street to the coffee shop to deciding to wear jeans instead of a skirt.
It’s why the Mystics can only prophesize, I suppose, and everything they say is taken with a grain of salt.
But Blake is different. He sees more, feels more, and gets lost more in his powers, in the stars that constantly call him home.
I edge toward him, resting on the edge of my bed. “Have you talked to Marianna recently?”
He abruptly looks away from me, turning his eyes to the window. “No. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“What? Why not? She’s your best friend–”
“I’m not sure what gave you that impression,” he murmurs as he moves in the direction of my bedroom door.
I shake my head, imagining the dark-haired, musically gifted beauty in my mind. I only met her once when I’d gone to Crescent Falls for a visit with my parents. She spent maybe ten minutes at the castle talking to Blake in the driveway. I’d been curious about her, seeing as Blake didn’t stop talking about her the entire trip, but whenever I asked him about her, he clammed up, unable to tell me exactly what the two of them did, what they were up to when they hung out, which seemed to be pretty often.
That was… years ago. It was after he’d gone through his training in Moonrise, and unless he was talking about Marianna, he was just… broken.
He opens the door, trying to make his way out like he’s running from this line of conversation, but I say, “I heard she’s a violinist now.”
His shoulders tighten as he grips the doorknob.
“She’s brilliant,” I press. “I’ve never heard her play in person but–”
“She is,” he cuts in, glancing at me over his shoulder. “She is brilliant.”
“You should reach out to her. I don’t understand why you haven’t spoken to her in years. Blake, that’s so weird to me. She was your only friend.” I bite my lip, internally cursing myself for saying that last part to him, but now I can’t stop myself as I add, “I kinda thought the two of you might have been mates–”
He steps through the doorway, shutting the door behind him.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling, cursing myself for being so insensitive, but honestly, this is just Blake. He has a habit of just disappearing when he tires of a conversation or activity he doesn’t like.
Wrapped in silence, I change my clothes, choosing a comfortable sundress to try to escape the growing heat of the day. I pull my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head and take in my surroundings, remembering that at one point, I didn’t think I’d ever see this room again.
The castle’s magic rushes around my bare feet, urging me in the direction of the door. Logan hasn’t returned yet, which doesn’t surprise me. If the entire family is here, gathered below, he’s likely trapped in conversation with someone–likely Sarah or Misty, who can talk just as much as he can.
I slip my feet into a pair of sneakers and head downstairs, careful on the steps. My legs still feel a little wobbly as Maeve and Misty’s powers continue to roll through my body, fighting for dominance, but that feeling is fading with every passing second.
Voices drift from the informal dining room on the third floor, which is where my family normally takes meals. Logan laughs, backing out of an archway with a plate of food balanced on one hand while he tries to free himself from a conversation with Sarah, just like I thought.
He turns, sensing my presence, and smiles faintly, his shoulders slumping in relief.
But Logan doesn’t have a chance to say anything to me. Sarah beams, poking her head around the archway, and then a thundering of footsteps across the stone floors blares in warning that I’m about to be trampled.
My view of my mate is blocked by bodies as Sarah, Misty, and Lexa rush out of the dining room. My mom follows at a slower pace, rounding the corner and tripping over her own feet. Conversation erupts around me, everyone peppering me with questions I can’t possibly answer all at once, but through the fray I catch a glimpse of Maeve moving into view, standing beside Logan, who says something to her before picking up the sandwich on the plate meant for me and biting into it, walking back into the dining room.
I watch Maeve, watch her face pale and shift as tangled emotions drift behind her eyes. She finally meets my eyes, and I smile at her, my heart squeezing.
But she looks… so sad, so lost. A jolt of panic rises in my chest when she quickly looks away and turns, walking down the hallway and turning out of sight.
“Can I eat something now, please?” I ask over the barrage of questions being hurled at me from every direction. “Please? I’m starving.”