Page 22 of Awakened Destiny (The Dark Ascendant #3)

Brigid

Later, I walk into the dining hall flanked by Lochan, Callen, Rory, and Tiernan. My heart hammers in my chest. A bird trapped in a cage of ribs. The nerves gnaw at my stomach.

The second we cross the threshold, the clatter of cutlery and chatter dies down. It's as if someone's hit mute on a remote control. Eyes swivel toward us and the stares are knives, sharp and eager to cut. I feel them all, each one an accusation, a whisper of fear. I fight to keep my face as impassive as possible.

And yet, part of me wants to roar back, to unleash the darkness within that simmers just beneath the surface. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, the Morrigan lingers, her presence there, and not there. But I shove that urge deep down; I won't give in to that impulse. I won ’ t become her.

With every step, I can sense Lochan's solid presence beside me. I know he's still grappling with our new relationship, but I don ’ t doubt him anymore. There's comfort in knowing he's here, his loyalty a shield that extends to me now.

Lochan moves closer, subtly, a silent message that he's got my back. His actions are a promise. He ’ s making good on exactly what he ’ d said he ’ d be. And in this moment, I draw strength from that, the knowledge that I'm not alone. I will never be alone again.

We find our way to a table, the scrape of chairs deafening in the sudden quiet. Rory, of course, can ’ t leave the silence alone. It ’ s not in his nature. He slumps into the chair beside me with a dramatic sigh and stretches his arms out as if he ’ s just run a marathon.

“ Well,” he says, loud enough for half the hall to hear, “ that was the most painful walk of my life. Thought I ’ d have to start signing autographs or dodging tomatoes at one point."

The corners of my mouth twitch despite myself. It ’ s such a Rory thing to say—stupid and over-the-top but weirdly effective. A ripple of laughter comes from somewhere behind us; maybe someone actually found it funny. Or maybe they ’ re laughing at him. Either way, it takes a sliver of pressure off my chest.

"Careful," I murmur, leaning just close enough that only he hears, "someone might take you up on that tomato idea."

"I do love tomatoes," he snorts back, grinning widely now.

"You can ’ t help yourself, can you?" Lochan mutters as he slides into the seat across from us. His tone is dry, but there ’ s something softer under it, like even he can ’ t help being amused.

Callen and Tiernan flank the table next, their movements precise and deliberate, like two guards taking position. Callen ’ s eyes scan the room briefly before settling on me, his nod subtle but reassuring. Tiernan doesn ’ t bother with reassurances—he simply sits close enough that our shoulders almost touch, his presence grounding in its own silent way.

Callen ’ s gaze lingers on me, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before I can stop it. It ’ s not just a blush—it ’ s a wildfire, spreading from my face down my neck, moving low in my stomach. His pale blue eyes are sharp, unwavering, and they seem to see straight through me, like he knows exactly what I ’ m thinking. And maybe he does.

My mind flashes back to earlier, to the way his hands had felt on my skin, the way his lips had traced a path down my throat, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I ’ m sure he notices because one corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly charming smile of his.

I look away quickly, pretending to focus on the glass of water that has just been filled in front of me, but it ’ s no use. The warmth doesn ’ t fade; if anything, it intensifies. There ’ s something about Callen that makes it impossible to stay unaffected. And now that we ’ ve gotten even closer, now that I ’ ve felt him in ways I never thought possible, it ’ s like my body has a mind of its own. Every glance, every brush of his fingers against mine, sends sparks skittering across my skin. I take a sip of water, hoping it will cool the heat, but it ’ s no use.

I glance around the table, noticing how they ’ ve instinctively positioned themselves—Lochan opposite me, Rory at my side, Callen and Tiernan on either end. It ’ s not accidental, this formation. It ’ s protective, whether they realize it or not. And strangely, it works. The knot in my stomach loosens just a little.

"Brigid," Tiernan says quietly, his voice low and smooth, pulling me out of my thoughts. Under the table, his hand makes contact with mine. "You okay?"

I nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah."

He doesn ’ t press, but his eyes linger on me for a moment longer, as if he ’ s trying to read between the lines. Tiernan ’ s like that—observant, patient, knowing when to push and when to let things be. It ’ s one of the things I appreciate most about him.

Across the table, Lochan ’ s gaze shifts between us, his expression unreadable. There ’ s a tension in him, something that hasn ’ t quite settled since we all started navigating this new dynamic. But he doesn ’ t say anything, just leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest like he ’ s guarding himself as much as he ’ s guarding me.

The sound of another chair pulls my attention, and I don ’ t need to look up to know who it is. Marius. His presence shifts the surrounding energy before he even speaks. There ’ s a heaviness to him now, and it settles over the group as he takes the empty seat next to me.

"Cozy little gathering," he says, voice edged with sarcasm. He leans back, one arm slung over the back of his chair, but his dark eyes flicker briefly to mine. It ’ s quick, that glance, but loaded.

"Didn ’ t think you ’ d join us," Rory says, tone light, but there ’ s an undercurrent, tensed and wary beneath the casual facade.

"Why wouldn ’ t I?" Marius ’ s lips twitch into a smirk, sharp and knowing. "I ’ m part of this merry little unit now, aren ’ t I?"

"Something like that," Callen mutters, not looking at him, occupying himself with tearing a piece of bread.

Marius chuckles quietly and I feel the weight of his gaze again, though this time he doesn ’ t look directly at me. The tension is buzzing just under the surface of their interactions, but no one pushes it further. Not here, not now.

I let out a slow breath, trying to focus on the fact that they ’ re all here, together. All five of my mates. That despite whatever unspoken resentments or unease might linger, they ’ ve made space for him—for me. It ’ s more than I ever thought possible, considering everything that ’ s happened. And yet, I can ’ t shake the feeling that this fragile peace could shatter at any moment.

My eyes drift across the room. The noise, the conversations, the clinking of silverware against plates—it all blurs into the background as my gaze lands on the far corner of the hall. Eira.

She ’ s sitting with Laria, heads close together, speaking in hushed tones. Laria ’ s pale blonde hair catches the light, her expression one of calculated charm. Eira, though... Eira looks different. Tired. Worn. Her laugh comes a second too late when Laria says something, and it doesn ’ t reach her eyes.

A pang hits me square in the chest, sharp and unexpected. Eira. My friend—or she was. Once. Before everything fell apart. I thought I hated her for what she did, but seeing her now, I don ’ t feel hate. Just... loss.

I look away quickly, my throat tightening. There ’ s no point dwelling on something I can ’ t fix, not now. Not when everything else is already so precarious.

"Brigid." Marius ’ s voice pulls me back. I glance at him, startled, and find his dark eyes fixed on me. For a moment, I wonder if he knows—if he saw how I looked at her, if he can sense the twisting inside my guts. But he doesn ’ t say anything else, just gives me that look, like he ’ s waiting for me to say something first.

"Yeah?" My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to, almost unsure.

"Nothing," he says after a pause, leaning back again. "Just making sure you ’ re still with us."

"Still here," I murmur, though it feels like a lie. Because part of me is still watching Eira.

"Shadow Queen, you going to sit there brooding all day or actually eat something?" Rory ’ s voice breaks through the noise. My head snaps in his direction, and he ’ s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, lips smiling.

"Shadow Queen?" I echo, raising an eyebrow. "That what we ’ re going with now?"

"Well, it suits you, doesn ’ t it? All dark and moody," he says, tossing a handful of berries into his mouth. "If the crown fits, wear it."

"You're an idiot." But I can ’ t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching upward just slightly. Rory has a way of doing that—dragging me out of my head whether I want him to or not.

"An idiot who got you to smile," he shoots back, grinning like he ’ s won something. "So really, I ’ m a genius. You ’ re welcome."

"Don ’ t let it go to your head," Callen chimes in, rolling his eyes as he takes a swig from his drink. "It ’ s big enough already."

"Jealousy doesn ’ t look good on you, prince," Rory retorts. It ’ s all banter, their usual rhythm, and for once, it feels easier to slip into it, to let myself be pulled along by their familiarity.

Tiernan leans forward, his elbows on the table, watching the exchange with quiet amusement before turning to me. "Ignore them. They ’ ve been at this all day. It ’ s exhausting."

"Exhausting to be around," Lochan mutters, barely looking up from his plate. His deep voice rumbles low enough that I almost miss it, but the dry humor isn ’ t lost on me.

"Honestly, how do you all put up with each other?" I ask, shaking my head. The warmth I ’ m feeling now softens the edges of my earlier tension. The knot in my chest loosens, just a little.

"Sheer endurance, I ’ d imagine" Marius says suddenly. He ’ s been quiet until now, sitting at the edge of the table with that sharp expression he always wears, but there ’ s a something lighter in his tone this time. "Or maybe masochism. Haven ’ t decided yet."

Rory snorts, leaning back in his chair.

For some reason, that small hint of humor from him makes the whole group laugh louder than anything Rory or Callen said. It ’ s unexpected, like seeing cracks form in armor you thought was impenetrable. I find myself laughing too—actual laughter, not the polite kind I force sometimes to smooth over awkward moments.

"Didn ’ t think you had it in you," Tiernan says, shaking his head at Marius.

"Neither did I," I add, glancing at Marius. His eyes meet mine briefly, and for a minute, they don ’ t feel so heavy.

The moment passes quickly as Lochan mutters something about needing earplugs for future meals. It ’ s easy to get swept up in their energy, their ridiculousness. For a while, I let myself. I let the noise drown out everything else, the tension, the stares from across the room, the hollowness that Eira and Laria left behind.

But only for a while.