Page 45 of Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

FREYA

I’m so cold, I can’t move.

The mountains pass by on either side of us, blocking out the sky. Exile scares here and there, but Jack has a steady hand, and he guides him through it. I have a vague impression of passing through two cliffs, the ground winnowing down to a path between them.

A deep sense of foreboding lingers until we’re through the pass and heading down a hill.

“Look up,” Jack says.

He’s slowing, letting Exile catch his breath. I turn my head, the wind whipping my hair. Down below glitter the lights of a ranch. So close, but so far. I’ve never been, but I can guess that’s Sovereign Mountain. To the left of us sits a placid lake, and to the right is a little village of chimneys puffing smoke that must be employee housing.

It looks like warm heaven.

“One last ride,” Jack says. “Hold tight.”

I grip his arm. He lets Exile’s reins loose, and we’re running again. This time, it’s downhill and harder to hold on. I bounce like a sack of rocks, teeth chattering. Then, after what feels like forever, we move to a slow walk and, finally, a halt .

Jack dismounts, taking me with him. My legs are water, so cold, I can’t stand. He half carries me up a set of stairs. Then, he beats so hard on the door, it echoes off the hills.

It opens. I hear a soft gasp.

I’m clinging to consciousness. Sleep is coming, pulling me under. I can’t tell what’s happening. All I know is Jack is carrying me into a warm house and I’m being laid down. Blankets are packed around me, a fireplace glittering before my eyes. Deacon isn’t there, but I feel him drawing closer, like a silvery string tied to my heart and his.

I shut my eyes and sleep.

At some point, it feels like hours later, I become aware of someone gently shaking my shoulder. A groan works its way out as I roll my head to the side. My eyes are stuck shut. It takes a minute to peel them open.

Did I die?

There’s an angel leaning over me. Soft red waves fall down her back, framing bright blue eyes, little freckles like stars over her pale beige skin. She grips my shoulder with a hand laden with a fern-green ring. I shift my gaze, confused. A fireplace roars in the hearth across from my bed. Early morning light spills through the window.

“Freya,” she whispers.

I turn my head. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Her shoulders sink. “I’m Keira, Sovereign’s wife. You’re at our ranch.”

I just stare, waiting for it to click into place. “Sovereign Mountain.”

“My husband went to help Deacon get you back,” she says. “Jack brought you here, but he had to take the shortcut through the mountains. You’re half frozen, but the doctor is coming at noon to check you over. Can you feel your hands and feet?”

I flex both. “Yes, they feel alright. Just stiff. Where’s Deacon?”

She gives me a warm smile. “He’s coming.”

I sit upright. “He’s alive? What about Bittern?”

She shakes her head, forehead creased. “I spoke to Sovereign, and he just said Deacon got what he came for and he was on his way to Sovereign Mountain to bring you home. ”

My throat is knotted. Half of my heart is overjoyed that Deacon is alright. Half is in deep mourning for the inevitable news that Aiden killed Bittern. I crook my legs, wrapping my arms around them. Keira makes a soothing sound and brushes back my hair.

“Can I get you into the bath?” she asks. “You’re very unsteady, but I think some warm water would help.”

I nod. Deep inside, I’m still chilled. She stands and my eyes fall to the tie of her dressing gown—knotted over the swell of her pregnant stomach.

Oh God, how could I forget?

My mouth is parched. I need some water. There’s a glass on the bedside table. I lift it with unsteady hands and take a sip while Keira disappears into the bathroom to my right. Water runs, and the soft scent of lavender follows.

She returns, leaning in the doorway.

“Do you need help getting in?” she asks.

I look up, unable to speak. She goes to me and sinks down on the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

Hand shaking, I set the glass down. “I need a test.”

Her eyes widen and drop to my waist. I’m out of the slip and in a man’s shirt, my body swamped. I touch my palm to my stomach.

“I have one,” she says.

She holds out her arm, and I get to my feet slowly. My legs look small and shaky as I move across the floorboards into the bathroom. It smells good, a little steam rising from the foamy bath. Keira lifts the toilet lid and helps me to sit down. I don’t protest. Now isn’t the time to worry about my dignity.

Keira kneels and takes a little box from beneath the sink. Inside is a blue and white plastic test. She uncaps it and hands it over.

“You just pee on the exposed end,” she says. “For about five seconds. Can you do that?”

I nod, cheeks pink. She gets up and pretends she’s busy checking the water while I put the test between my legs. When I’m done, I set it on the counter and finish emptying my bladder. Keira, clearly not bothered by germs, pops the cap back on and sets it aside.

“Alright, let’s get you in the bath,” she says, helping me up. “It’s lukewarm. We don’t want to shock your body.”

She helps me in. Tears gather at the corners of my eyes.

“You’re very kind,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

She gives me a kind smile. I offer a shaky one back. I think she understands. After so many years of cruelty, it’s hard to comprehend kindness. She just pats my arm and goes back to the test, picking it up.

“Almost there,” she says.

My stomach churns. “Do you like this? Living on a ranch out here, married to one of these Montana men?”

She thinks hard, her lids lowered. Then, she looks up. “Yes, this is my home,” she says. “I was afraid, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

She doesn’t have to say anything else. I hear it all in the timbre of her words. She knows the kind of fear I lived with. I can tell without asking. She moves confidently, but there’s still a lingering hesitancy, like she wasn’t always as safe as she is now.

“Do you want me to tell you what it says?” she asks.

Heart racing, I nod.

“You’re pregnant, honey.”

To my surprise, all I feel is the deepest sense of relief. If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that Deacon is in this for the long haul. When I tell him, he’s going to be so happy, and it’s going to make me sob.

For the first time in my life, someone chose me, wanted me, and followed through all the way to the end.

Now, he’s on his way here, and suddenly, I’m terrified to tell him.

“Keira,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Will Deacon go to jail for what he did last night? I know he killed everyone.”

She laughs, which catches me off guard. “No, Sovereign will probably pull some strings. Jay Reed will get a little grayer. They’ll kick the case around for a few months. Then, it’ll be ruled a gas leak or an accidental fire. ”

My jaw is on the floor. “How?”

“Don’t ask,” she says. “That’s my advice if you want to be with one of these men. Just don’t ask.”

I nod, wordless. There’s so much happening. I can’t absorb it all. Keira comes to the edge of the tub and sinks down on the chair. Without speaking, she takes a comb and starts working the tangles from my curls. I wrap my arms around my knees and let her work on it. It feels so good to speak with another woman, but it feels better to have one fuss over me, almost how I imagine a mother might.

It takes her a half hour and a lot of conditioner, but she gets my hair fixed and braided tightly down my back. Then, she helps me back into the shirt and walks with me to the bed.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. You must be tired too.”

She shakes her head. “When I needed help, others helped me. Now, go to sleep.”

“Will you tell Deacon for me?” I blurt out. “As soon as he gets here? I know he’s frantic.”

Her eyes go soft. “Of course. Now, you try to get some sleep until Deacon arrives. Then, I’d like you to try to eat something.”

I nod, sliding onto my side, my eyes heavy. She goes out, leaving the door open. Less than five minutes after she’s gone, I hear a faint snuffle under the door. A gray nose peaks around the corner, and a little dog that looks like a black fox peers in. I lift my head.

“Come here,” I whisper.

He toddles in and, amazingly, makes the jump onto the bed. His salt and pepper fur is like satin. I brush my fingertips through it as he curls up against my stomach and passes out.

There are so many things I can’t control, but that doesn’t scare me anymore. He’ll handle it, like he handles everything else. He’ll take care of me and the babies we have together. He’s so good at caring for people.

I found somebody to love me the way my heart wants to be loved. For the first time, I’m a girl with a future worth living for.