Layla’s veins ran cold as she held her breath.
“Maganthia,” Drexel answered. “That’s the first order of business. Once we restore relations with them and gain access to the library, we can figure out our next step.”
Quin turned around and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think Layla can sway politics in Maganthia when the Crusaders have failed?”
“Because she’s Willa’s angel. If anyone can help, it’s her. Should the Maganthian Council refuse negotiations and prove corrupt, they’ll need to be overthrown, which won’t be easy.”
“As far as the council knows, Layla’s just another witch, and you have nothing to convince them otherwise.”
“We don’t, but she does.”
“She’s barely had time to get familiar with the magical world. Now you want her to navigate our politics and negotiate treaties?”
“She doesn’t need to know how it works. She just needs to show up and play the role she was sent here to play. We need to rally our allies and intimidate our enemies. We need Maganthia to listen, and when an angel walks in, you shut the hell up and pay attention.”
Quin sighed while pulling his hands from his head and rubbing his face. Then Kemble took his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
Whatever he said made Quin shift gears. “I’ve heard enough for tonight. I need to find Layla.”
Tristan and Emrys jerked their heads up as Bryce spoke. “Find her?”
Quin leapt over the railing of the deck. “She’s probably looking for me.”
“Consider what we discussed,” Drexel shouted, but Quin had already flown away.
Damn. Layla rotated and pressed her back to the side of the house. Then she blocked her mind while frantically searching for a solution that wouldn’t make things worse. Quin’s burdens would only grow heavier if he knew she was aware of them, but she was a miserable liar and barely keeping her spine straight.
She took a few deep breaths while counting the seconds, imagining Quin’s flight path around the other side of the house. He would probably speak to her grandparents and maybe Brietta on the way to the children’s tent, and when he didn’t find her there, he’d panic.
She didn’t want it to get that far, so she straightened from the house and tested the strength of her shaky legs. Following a few uncertain steps, she found her balance. Then she flew to Kemble’s house and landed in his backyard. After making sure she was alone, she revealed herself and dropped her mind shield.
Within seconds, Quin’s mental voice invaded her head. ‘Where are you?’
‘Your parents’ backyard,’ she answered. ‘Where are you?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘You found me.’
‘I’m on my way.’
‘Meet me at the tent,’ she insisted.
She scanned the lawn as she soared over Kemble’s house, and she quickly spotted Quin, who crossed his arms while watching her approach.
“Hey,” she greeted, casually avoiding eye contact.
He rubbed his jaw while searching her aura. “Your mind was blocked.”
“Was it?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm…” She dismissed his curiosity and headed for the tent. “I was looking for you.” She spoke the truth. She just left out the part where she’d found him.
“You didn’t mind search me,” he pointed out.
She peeked inside the tent, finding her kids still asleep, so she pulled her head back out. “Guess I didn’t think about it.”
“I was speaking with Drexel,” he confessed. “Your grandparents were supposed to let me know when you left Cinnia’s.”
“I don’t think they saw me.”
“Apparently.”
His suspicion was justified, but his secrets were bigger than hers, so she straightened her shoulders and met his stare. “Do you plan to tell me what Drexel said?”
“Yes, but not tonight.”
His honesty and consideration magnified his devotion, and her indignation melted, her eyes burning with threatening tears as the weight of their problems smashed her heart.
He noticed her sorrow, but he must have assumed it was a reflection of his own, because he shed his doubt and pulled her into a hug. “How did the dress viewing go?”
“Good. Bri wants me to be in her wedding.”
His lungs expanded as he buried his face in her hair. “Did you agree?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” he whispered, giving her a squeeze. “Let’s get our kids and go home. You’re exhausted.”
“Is it obvious?”
“It is to me.”
Following dozens of heartfelt goodnights, Quin and Layla entered their dark house with their arms full and Arabella in tow.
The triplets were awake and ready to eat, but Benzio stayed asleep on Quin’s shoulder until he forced him to wake up and use the bathroom. His eyes stayed shut as he swayed in front of the toilet, and Quin quietly laughed while preventing a mess. He had to employ magic to get Benzio’s floppy legs into his pajamas. Then he used a wet washcloth to clean the chocolate off his face.
Benzio barely roused through the process, but as Quin tucked him into bed, his blue and purple eyes opened, and his small hand reached out. “Love you, Dad.”
Those three tiny words held everything good in the world, and Quin’s throat swelled as his vision blurred. Earning the child’s love made his heart soar, but knowing he’d soon have to abandon Benzio brought the organ crashing back down. For the past two months, Quin had been building dreams that were bound to crumble, instilling hopes that would soon deflate, and making promises he couldn’t keep. He’d done it to Benzio, and he’d done it to Layla.
He swallowed a lump and wiped his eyes. Then he forced a smile and kissed Benzio’s head. “Love you, too, buddy. Goodnight.”
Benzio was already half-asleep, and Arabella had curled up beside him, so Quin took a deep breath while rising to his feet. They felt like they’d been sunk in cement, and his burning chest was equally heavy.
Layla had started nursing two babies while bouncing the third on her thighs, so Quin tried to downplay his discomfort as he approached the bed. Her gaze stayed glued to her kids, her aura a swollen ocean of love and trepidation, and she didn’t say a word to him as he settled in beside her.
He stayed quiet, as well. Everything he had to say would merely cause them more pain, so the room steeped in silence, just an occasional grunt and gurgle from the triplets as they filled their bellies and fell asleep.
While Layla used the bathroom, Quin lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, his mind racing with problems and possible solutions. The liquor had dulled his train of thought, and his eyelids would only open halfway, but he couldn’t turn off his brain or stop the world from haunting him. You’re failing…They’ll be dead children… You’ll have to risk yours… Love you, Dad.
A sob tried to leap from his throat, and he choked it back while covering his face with a palm. When he heard the bathroom door open, he quickly wiped his eyes and swallowed his pain, but there was nothing he could do about his aura.
He looked down, watching Layla shed a robe as she crossed the room, and the colors swirling around her naked body proved she wasn’t blind to their problems. She met his stare as she climbed into bed. Then she moved into his reaching arms and settled her ear on his heart. His pulse synced with hers, soothing some of his anxiety, and he stroked her hair while kissing the top of her head.
Her silence stretched on, so he figured she was well on her way to dreamland, but then a tear hit his chest as she whispered. “Quin.”
He blindly found her face then dried the rivers running across her nose and temple. “My love.”
She grabbed his hand, pulling it to her lips as she drew a shaky breath. “Despite the hardships we’ve faced, and no matter what the future holds, this past year has been the best year of my life. I love you, Quinlan Farrel, and I’ll never regret the day you walked into my world.”
&
nbsp; He squeezed her shoulders, but he kept his mouth shut. Only her loving warmth kept him from mourning into her curls, and if he tried to talk, his resolve would crumble.
He’d somehow found the strength to get her through the past year. He’d kept her alive, learned how to love her and make her happy. And having risen from the ashes of battle together, they’d started a home and family. Now, as the tides turned with a new year, Quin was left grasping for the strength to give it all up.
Epilogue
Alec jolted awake, huffing and puffing as he squinted at the morning sunlight flooding the tent. His brain sped until it caught up with reality. Then he covered his face and collapsed on the pillows.
Soft fingers drifted across his chest as Ember’s sweet voice floated over his ear. “Bad dreams?”
“Yeah,” he confessed, finding her stare. “Not the best way to start a new year.”
She scooted closer and stretched a thigh across his lap. “It’ll get better.”
Alec was tempted to roll his eyes, but offered a smile instead. “You sound like my sister.”
“I like your sister. What time are you taking her out to eat?”
“I don’t know. I need to call her.” He summoned his phone from his satchel. Then he cursed the low battery. “I need to figure out how to magically charge this thing.”
Ember took the phone and kissed his shoulder, successfully stealing his attention. “Do you still plan on telling her?”
“That I’m leaving? Yeah.”
“Then I haven’t changed your mind.”
He tucked his chin in and found her hazel eyes. “Last night was great, but I have to get out of here for a while, away from people who know about me and my past.”
“I understand.”
He believed her. If anyone could relate to his situation, it was an ex-Unforgivable. “Come with me,” he whispered. “Just the two of us. We can start fresh together.”
The corners of her lips fell as her eyes grew shiny. “I can’t, Alec. The people in this camp are my family now. I care about them, and they care about me. I finally have something resembling a coven. Please don’t ask me to leave it.”
“You’re right. That was selfish of me.”
“No. It was sweet. I’ve never had a guy ask me to run away with him.”
“Maybe someday I’ll come back and ask again.”
She smiled and drifted a hand down his torso. “I look forward to it.”
He grew hard at her roaming touch, but his bladder objected, so he pulled her into a kiss and lifted her off him. “Hold that thought. I need to take a leak and call my sister.” He sat up and donned a pair of shorts. Then he stole another kiss while grabbing his phone. “Wait for me and I’ll make it worth it.”
“You better,” she laughed, pulling him in for one last kiss.
Alec gave her a wink as he summoned his satchel. Then he left the tent, stretching as he scanned the sleepy camp. Nearly everyone had stayed up late to celebrate the new year, so most of them were still in bed. Alec checked his phone as he quietly made his way around tents, and he once again cursed his battery while searching for a signal. Last time he’d called Aradia from the refugee camp, he had to fly miles away to get service, so he sighed and soared into the air.
The forest floor warped as Alistair swayed and blinked, his ears buzzing and his head pounding. The smoky air rushing his lungs reeked of death, and it did nothing to cool his fiery chest.
The previous night’s raid had gone according to plan. While the world was ringing in a new year, Alistair and Zephora led hundreds of recruits into a camp with less than fifty Dark Elite soldiers. A few of them were drunk enough to think they could fight, but they were quickly subdued, and the rest surrendered. Some even claimed to be pleased with the arrangement, saying their respect for the guild was the reason they refused to invade them. But the brown-nosing merely angered Zephora, who backhanded the offenders while telling them the next time they heard about an attack on the guild, they better warn them. Despite her volatile temper, everyone made it out alive, and Alistair dared to hope the next raid would be equally easy.
But this camp had more residents – dozens of children, caregivers and elderly – and the soldiers had more guts, along with a firm sense of morality, so when the Dark Guild dropped into the sleepy camp and demanded their loyalty, they fought back. Now the majority of them lay dead, their lives sacrificed for the weaker denizens, who weren’t immune to the spells and debris that had blasted through the camp. Injured children huddled around dead peers, their faces dirty and tear-streaked, and the adults who’d survived the onslaught had either lost their will or their ability to fight.
Alistair’s stomach churned as he glanced between his palms and the last person they’d killed – a young woman around the same age as his daughter. The two were probably similar in a lot of ways. But his baby girl had never faced horrors like this witch had endured – months, maybe years of abuse and neglect at Agro’s hands, then a small taste of freedom before finding herself back in a do or die situation. Of course she’d fought. Who wouldn’t fight for the light after being in the dark for so long? And Alistair had killed her for it. Her horrible past stained Agro’s hands, but it was Alistair who carried the burden of her untimely death.
Several seconds had gone by since the last spell exploded, and Alistair looked around as his hearing returned. Zephora was alive and barking orders, and the surviving guild members scrambled to obey, putting out fires, securing the perimeters, and binding the defeated refugees.
Alistair made sure no one was looking. Then he knelt next to his young victim, his throat swelling shut as he gently closed her hazel eyes.
Swallowing his guilt, he straightened and started assessing the rest of the damage, counting the dead and living while separating them into groups of soldiers, caregivers, and kids.
Shortly into the task, one of Alistair’s soldiers called to him, and he looked over to see a group of them approaching.
“Caught a couple of them flying in,” a wizard explained, carrying a witch from the cluster. Then two more soldiers lugged a wizard into view.
The male was unconscious, and the female was gagged with a rag, her face swollen and bruised as fat tears leaked from her multi-colored green eyes. The soldiers dropped them both to the ground, and the wizard slumped to his side as the bound witch wiggled toward him.
Alistair knelt next to them, ignoring the woman’s glare as he observed the man. “Is he fatally wounded?”
“No,” a soldier answered. “He fought, so we knocked him out.”
Alistair brushed aside the witch’s blond hair and took her chin, examining her battered face. “What happened here?”
One of the recruits rubbed his jaw. “She fought, too. As sweet as she looks, bitch has some fire in her.”
Alistair tilted his head and scanned the couple from head to toe. Something about them differed from the other refugees… the way they dressed and the colors in their auras.
Reaching around the woman’s head, Alistair untied her gag and emptied her mouth. “What’s your name?”
“Go to hell,” she spat. Then she wiggled closer to her wizard and whispered in his mahogany hair. “Please wake up. Please.”
“He will,” Alistair assured, “but he’ll probably come to swinging, so we’ll keep him sedated through the flight.”
She snapped her gaze up. “Flight? Where?”
“Your new camp.” Alistair rose and motioned for his men to take over. “Put them with the other soldiers. They’re obviously fit for duty.”
The recruits tried to obey, but the female flailed and threw a fit. “No, wait. You’re with the Dark Guild, right?”
Alistair motioned for his men to halt. “What if we are?”
She threw a glance at the other prisoners. “If you’re with the Dark Guild, you don’t need the kids.”
Alistair furrowed his eyebrows while trying to predict where this was going. “The children will be a pain in my
ass, but they won’t be the only kids in our camp.”
“So leave them here,” the witch insisted. “Take the rest of us and leave the kids.”
“You want me to abandon them?”
“Yes, everyone under sixteen. Bind them if you want. Just leave them here. Please. They’re no use to you.”
Alistair thought it over while looking at Zephora, who merely shrugged. “I don’t give a shit what we do with the brats. Kill them, take them, or leave them here to freeze. Whatever the case, let’s get on with it.” She crouched next to the unconscious wizard. Then she tapped his manhood with her riding crop while winking at his witch. “He’s cute. Maybe when he wakes up, the three of us will have a little fun.”
The blonde fumed and flexed against her restraints, and Zephora cackled while whipping her across her bruised face.
Once Zephora was on her feet, she turned to Alistair and raised an eyebrow. “I like these two. She’s feisty, and he’s hot. Let’s do them a favor and leave the kids to a cold and hungry death.”
“Very well,” Alistair agreed. “We’ll bind the little ones and leave them alone.”
The two new captives were dragged to the others, and Alistair continued cleaning up the mess while organizing their departure.
Once the timber was back to normal and the bodies were burned, the crying children were ushered into a large tent, and the rest of the refugees were pulled to their feet.
Alistair walked down the line, reinforcing the shields on their brains and the bindings on their wrists, and just as he opened his mouth to tell his soldiers to take flight, a body and aura appeared a few yards away.
Every guild member spun around, prepared to attack the sneaky newcomer, but the young man had his hands in the air in a gesture of peace.
“On your knees!” Alistair shouted.
The wizard did as he was told, moving slowly so as not to alarm anyone, but Alistair kept a palm extended while moving closer.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”
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