Page 26

Ketill, Agnarr’s ancient brother, is known for two things: ruthlessness and grandeur. And his coven is her primary client. With her natural talent and their fathomless pockets, she doesn’t need the Institute. I’d been wondering how my uncle overpowered Hale, and it seems I’ve found my answer.

Her long, orange hair is twisted tightly into some sort of hairstyle I’m sure Margot knows the name of, and her dated clothing makes me wonder just how old she is. She looks the same age as when I met her almost twenty years ago. She might look like a 1950s housewife with a starched white collar dress, but she is not meek or mild-mannered in any way. Her lightly freckled skin nearly glows as she rolls up the sleeves of her dark peacoat. Muttering an incantation, her attention is drawn back to her work.

“I’m telling you the fucking truth,” Hale says. “There is no goddamn spell.”

My uncle won’t listen to him, merely shaking his head as he gives me a ‘can you believe this?’ smile. The man thinks far more highly of me than he should.

Every choice I’d made had been of my own volition. Every ounce of destruction is because of my stupid fucking decisions.

“Un cercle magique, Roman. Pour te guérir.”To heal you.

“Il n’y a pas de remède,” I murmur under my breath.There is no cure.

My uncle doesn’t hear me over Hale’s thrashing and grunting against him. His hand circles the sorcerer’s throat, and he begins to squeeze. If I rush at Emile, he’ll kill Gwyn’s friend before I make it halfway across the yard. The best I can do is convince him to let him go—for Remy.

“Where ismyleverage, Tonton?” I ask, hoping to distract my uncle. He smiles at me when he lets Hale go.

“The little worm would not heed my commands,” he says, and with a sudden movement, he throws his knife past my ear toward my garage door. A startled cry echoes within, and I’m grateful to know she’s still alive. “So I broke her leg, and made Nico bind her wrists. You know, I don’t think he actually has any sailing experience. His knots are tragic.”

He continues on about Nico’s skills while I contemplate going to check on Sasha. I can’t do anything, but if she’s injured more than he’s let on, Gwyn will unleash hell.

“Where’s Nico?” I ask.

My uncle has already pulled out another knife, and he notches it beneath his captive’s jaw bone. The sound of the sharpened blade rubbing over Hale’s stubble gives me goosebumps. It’s too close for comfort.

“He’s inside, looking for sage. She needs it.” He nods in Caitriona’s direction. “She’ll do anything—for a price,” Emile says. “Buthemust be the one to lift your curse.” He traces his weapon across Hale’s jugular.

“There is no curse,” I say, but my uncle only rolls his eyes. “And I don’t appreciate you breaking my hostage’s leg.”

“What’s mine is yours, is it not? Besides, the fact you didn’t feel my command tells me enough. You turned the bitch, so she cannot command you. This is the only explanation.”

I don’t tell him Gwyn’s blood is why I was able to ignore his command. There’s no point. If he knew that just an hour ago she was sitting in my lap and I was drinking her blood, he’d kill me. I’d probably deserve it too. But everything I do now is for Remy. I need Emile to let Hale go, and bringing up Gwyn’s blood would not help this situation.

“Remy is alive. Maybe you didn’t hear me on the phone?”

Emile’s blue eyes are ice-cold and piercing as he stares right at me. “I heard you.”

I’m not surprised by his answer, but I am infuriated. He’s risking my brother’s life to free me from something I’m not entrapped by.

“Then why the fuck?—”

“Your mind being freed from her spell is more important. Whatever she’s done that has rendered your blood oath useless must be undone. Remy is the whole reason this happened, is he not? He allowed himself to be caught, and now, there are consequences.” He shrugs, as if it isn’t all my fault. As if Remy doesn’t matter. The wind blows sparkling snowflakes into my face. Blinking them away, all I do is glare at him. “I’ve always liked you more than him, Roman. If he dies, he dies.”

“If he dies, I will kill you,” I say, surprising myself, and my uncle goes still. Even Hale freezes in place, reacting to the tension. For a moment, I think it’s my words that have caused Emile’s reaction—but then I breathe deep.

Gwyn’s scent is faint, just a hint on the inopportune breeze, and I consider telling my uncle what he smells isn’t fresh. That it’s me who reeks of her rich apple cider scent, not the womancurrently scaling the fucking roof in my periphery. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing, but I don’t dare draw his attention to her. Thankfully, the wind blows in the opposite direction and the smell is gone.

“I know you are not threatening me, mon grand,” my uncle says, and I relax a fraction. My words are what gave him pause—nothing else. “Your impudence is ceaseless, Roman.”

Slowly, I exhale, allowing my taut body to slacken. With his back to my house, he must not have caught Gwyn’s scent. He stands, hauling Hale up with him. The man is much taller than my uncle, and he holds his body close—almost like a shield. Slowly, I walk toward him, trying to cut the distance between us.

“Not a threat at all,” I say, but he doesn’t catch on to my promised fury.

“Are you almost done?” Emile asks Caitriona, and I believe she’s ignoring him. She’s sprinkling what appears to be salt around the perimeter of the circle while walking around it counter-clockwise. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but I don’t ask any questions. If she turns, she might catch a glimpse of Gwyn as I had, and she won’t be likely to keep it quiet.

I don’t allow my gaze to wander toward Gwyn. I’d only noticed her dark hair for a second on the breeze as she’d picked her way over my roof. I have no idea what she’s planning or how to prepare for it, but at this point I don’t think it matters. I need her family to stay alive, at whatever cost.

Remy makes this worth it. My little brother, whole and healthy, is worth all of this. If the cost is my uncle’s life and whatever humanity I have left after her, I don’t fucking care.