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Chapter 27

All Together Now

~DOLLY~

I stand in Jeb’s trust-fund apartment, surrounded by all four Reilhander brothers. Jeb himself looking inhospitable; Velis holding me like he, too, thought I was dead; Beckham in chains; and Arrik turned away from it all.

Velis calls sternly to the last of them, “What happened, Arrik?”

He says it like Arrik royally fucked up. Which immediately sets Arrik off.

“Yeah, no . Don’t even try that tone with me, little brother. Where the FUCK have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour! And you brought Beckham with you? You have no idea what you—” Flaring with emotion that’s particularly hot for Arrik’s style, he cuts off whatever he was about to say. “Not in front of Master.”

“ Yes , in front of Master,” I retort, partially in defense of Velis because I don’t like the insinuation that he somehow abandoned me. I know he would have gotten here sooner if he could have. It’s clear he was doing something with Beckham this whole time, and he even managed to get him in chains? Not sure why the monster’s not just magicking his way out of them. But let’s just give a little bit of credit before we start making wild accusations, yes?

“Tch. Unbelievable,” scoffs Arrik as he reads my thoughts, arms folded and appearing firm in his saltiness. “What kind of chains are those? Will they hold him?”

“Normal chains,” says Vel. “But they’ll hold. He has no magic. I sealed his account, like Father did after he threatened Dolly during the contest.”

Both Jeb and Arrik take a moment, like neither of them ever remotely thought of that as an option.

“Are you serious?” Jeb sneers. “Father gave you rights to the treasury?”

“Father gave me nothing. I’m laird of the manor. I have inherent rights to it, Jeb. Got a problem with that?”

Jeb narrows his eyes. From down the hallway, Beckham cackles. “Kill him, Jeb. And then let me out.”

The youngest triplet shoots back, “Father will exterminate anyone who touches his heir. Are you insane?”

The answer to that question is yes.

“He has something I need, stashed away in his corner of the void. I couldn’t leave him. But I castrated him first.”

The revelation of Vel’s cleverness does nothing to subdue Arrik’s irritation. “Who cares how you did it. Are you absolutely certain he has no access to magic?”

“Do you think I’d have brought him if I wasn’t?”

It isn’t enough for Arrik. He shoves past us, approaches the chair where Beckham’s being held, and picks up one of his fingers.

I flinch as Arrik snaps Beckham’s finger at the knuckle without a second thought—a reminder of the underlying cruelty they’ve all been trained to possess.

Beckham’s eyes flare with that dragon-red fury as he tries to ram his head into his brother’s, but the glow quickly fades. No magical escape, no retaliation.

“Hm,” Arrik mutters, glancing at his oldest brother before turning to Velis. “Heal him if you want. I don’t have the magic for it.”

Velis doesn’t move.

I know how hard this must be for him.

I hate Beckham too—for everything he’s done to Velis, to Arrik, to all of us. But I can’t help but pity him. He grew up brutalized by his own family, likely enduring many broken fingers in his life. And while he’s the reason our lives were in jeopardy, he’s also the reason Velis and I ultimately escaped Amoira’s hellish cottage.

Velis releases a growl of reluctance only I can hear. His magic washes over my cheeks in a soft blue light, and I notice Beckham’s fingers, now restored, drumming against his side. The same magic flushes through my body, as if cleansing me of all the germs that haven’t yet sprouted into viruses.

Don’t ask me if that’s how germs actually work.

“Okay, enough,” says Arrik. “We need to have a discussion. Jeb, move Beckham to your quarters. Velis, escort Master to the guest room.”

“I’m staying,” I protest. “Whatever you’re discussing has to do with me nearly dying!”

“Wait, dying?” Velis says, turning semi-frantic—news to him that it was a ‘safe haven’ spell that brought us here.

“I’m vetoing you this time. I need a moment alone with my brothers, Dolly Jones.” Arrik’s resolve is strong enough that he doesn’t crack even after I seek to challenge his gaze, and in my head, he adds, “ Respect it. ”

I’m not used to whatever tone this is.

“Say whatever you have to say later, Arrik,” Velis argues. “I’m getting Dolly out of here.”

“And taking her where ? There’s a reason I chose this place. It’s the last place anyone would ever look. I’m not setting foot back in our motel room after what we just had to go through back there, and your little ‘love nest’ up in the trees has already proven to be unsafe. ”

“A motel room?” Beckham calls from down the hallway and out of sight. “Oh? I wonder what you two were up to in there ?”

Meanwhile, Jeb’s scowl deepens until the veins in his neck are engorged and his jaw is trembling, like he’s about to enter one of his fits. “All of you, get out of my dwelling!”

“Jebidirah,” Arrik snaps. “Shut up. Velis, escort Master to the guest room.”

“Like I know where Jeb’s guest room is?”

“Fine.” With a lifted brow, Arrik snatches my arm, causing a territorial flash from Velis, who grabs the other.

Messy.

Being caught between them is like being caught up in a sticky, honey-scented web.

And I am not a piece of meat.

They both immediately drop their grips.

“Where is the guest room? I can respect whatever it is you need to discuss, but I expect you to fill me in on any parts that involve me.”

Arrik makes no such promise as his hand finds my back and he leads me down a hall white enough to be part of an old-timey asylum, with only minimalistic classy décor, past where Beckham is grinning up at me in that creepy, disarming manner. “Hey, Master Dolly.” He attempts what I assume is a smolder. “Did you know I’ve been looking for you?”

What did I say about pining ?

Arrik kicks his foot aside. “Don’t talk to her.”

There isn’t one spec of dirt or clutter in all of Jeb’s apartment, and the guest bedroom is no different. It’s basically a hanging bed, a bureau, and a chandelier. There isn’t even a door in the doorway. Super inviting, Jeb.

At least I’ll be able to eavesdrop.

In the first hint of levity I’ve seen from him since he opened his eyes here, Arrik’s expression spasms at my unspoken observation. I wait for him to drop the act and tell me what’s going on, but he doesn’t, just stands gazing at me for a long moment in the doorless doorway. Then, he steps forward until we’re nearly toe to toe, and gently tucks my head to his chest.

The embrace is brief and strange—stiff, almost uncertain—before he steps back and presses a button on the wall, lowering a panel from the ceiling and sealing me inside the room.

It’s worrying, whatever’s been coming after us. It’s worrying that my heart somehow stopped inside that lagoon. It’s worrying how Arrik is acting, and whatever Beckham’s hiding inside the void is worrying too.

There’s a second similar button along an otherwise unassuming wall. I wonder if that’s a bathroom. Now that we’re out of the magical motel cave, I could use one.

A push of the button does, indeed, reveal a bathroom. Just as white and boring as the rest of the room, but with plumbing-like fixtures I mostly recognize. There’s a toilet, bath, and shower, and then some other random thing with multiple spouts I’ve never seen before.

I wash my hands in a sink that’s likely connected to some magical tap rather than any actual pipes, and opt to wipe them on my pajamas rather than offend Jeb’s crisp hand towels. When I exit the bathroom, I realize I’m no longer alone.

I didn’t hear the door open, but I suppose it makes sense if he’s been staying here with Jeb.

I haven’t seen Alex since our brief interaction the night of the coronation. But I know he spent a series of selfless wishes afterward to save my soul. I’ve been hoping for a chance to thank him ever since. I’m actually really excited to see I’m not the only human stuck inside this full-on genie situation. And now Velis can finally see what he even looks like. Jeb’s master was invisible the only time they ever met.

“Hey, Alex. Surprised you’re not sick of genies yet. How’s it been?”

He’s dressed as posh as ever, in a swanky, baggy sweatsuit and crisp white shoes, and just like last time, his dark hair has a fresh fade with fancy barber lines. Like the first time he introduced himself in that lecture hall, he holds out his hand to shake mine.

Only this time, his British accent is missing.

“Hey, my Lolly girl. Glad to see you breathing.”