Page 51 of Druid Cursed

“And what of mine? I cannot accept my freedom at such a cost.” He inched nearer, the grass slippery beneath his fumbling fingers. The portal’s energy thrummed in his veins, twisting his organs. “I will not.”

Caedmon didn’t look at him as he freed a dagger from his belt. With the fire spitting and steaming at his back, he leaned over her.

“Caedmon. Brother .” Kellen managed the calm, commanding tone that always reached his twin, no matter how angry, inebriated, or bewitched.

If Caedmon killed his soul mate, there would be no turning back, not for either of them.

“I beg of you, do not do this. I will gladly endure another five centuries while you hunt for an alternative to breaking the curse.”

“There is no alternative, you dolt.” Caedmon briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, tears glittered, bright as blades.

“If you believe this is easy for me, you’re wrong.

I vowed to free you from Sorcha’s curse, and so I will.

I need you here, with me. Our land needs you here. No matter the cost.”

Desperation clawed at the last shreds of Kellen’s control. “At the price of my Maggie, my heart?”

“Aye!” Abysmal flames of dark magic replaced the tears. “Whatever it takes to free us.”

His pulse faltered. Us?

“Damnation, Kellen.” Caedmon raked back his wet hair and breathed deep. The stormy sky cast his features in shadow, an echo of their ancestors, dressed in cowls and gathered beneath the night. “You don’t get to decide for us both.”

“Aye, I do.” Shocks stabbed every nerve ending. So close to his prison entrance, the pull was nigh unbearable, tearing at his skin as if to strip it from his bones. At best, he had moments. “I am the one who will waste away in oblivion.”

“You think I don’t drown in that knowledge every second?” Caedmon’s face contorted and his voice rasped. “This guilt is destroying me.”

Ice snaked into his marrow. He knew that look. Caedmon had done something terrible and hidden it from him. Whatever it may be, it could not be worse than slaying Maggie. He held his brother’s gaze. Any sign of weakness would sway Caedmon to action.

“Whatever you have done, you are forgiven a thousandfold. Shed your guilt.” Kellen somehow found the strength to pull himself to his knees. “But sacrificing Maggie, my soul, so I might live…I will not recover from that. This life would become my new prison and you my jailer.”

Caedmon’s jaw clenched, and his hand flexed around the dagger. “But you don’t know what I—”

“It does not matter, Caedmon,” he said quietly. “You are my brother. I would forgive you aught.”

“Some deeds are unforgiveable,” he said, his voice rife with pain.

Kellen shook his head. “ Aught .”

For a long moment, they stared at each other.

Kellen’s pulse throbbed at his neck, counting in time with the seconds, the curse’s pain dulled by dread.

He dared not look at Maggie. A gust of wind tousled Caedmon’s hair and rippled his cloak.

His fingers remained wrapped around the knife hilt, bloodless white strips in the gloom, a decision as yet not made.

Please, brother.

Caedmon’s face crumpled. He dropped the knife, stepped through the stones, and threw his arms around Kellen’s neck. It took every last crumb of his willpower not to collapse beneath his brother’s weight, not to weep with relief.

“It’s finally happened.” Caedmon huffed against his neck. “You’ve lost all your good sense.”

“I am not the one who surrendered my cowl and breeches for a necktie and testicle-choking undergarments.” Kellen leaned into his brother, needing his strength to stay upright.

“When you live in this era, you’ve gotta roll with the punches.” Caedmon unclasped his cloak and settled it around his shoulders.

Kellen clung to the garment, his brother’s lingering warmth welcome on his cold skin. “I prefer not to sell my soul.”

“Prude.”

“Wanton.”

The air tingled, as if gathering every spark of electricity from the thunderhead into a pulsing nexus.

Kellen had barely a heartbeat to release Caedmon before a blast of power shook the earth and tossed them asunder.

Amidst the surge, Sorcha, wearing Wendy’s form, appeared on the opposite side of the fire at the farthest edge of the standing stones, a shadow cut from the storm.

The wind faded to a hush, the torrent declining to little more than a mist. In the sudden stillness, Caedmon’s ragged breath reminded Kellen of the day the druids had appeared and their lives had unraveled, changed forever.

“An exceedingly moving display, the heartless Kellen Ravenwood choosing an eternity of imprisonment, surrendering his birthright in exchange for the brief, mortal life of his true love.” Sorcha drifted closer, her cloak death-black, her red hair glowing in the firelight, tangled with twigs and leaves.

Wendy’s visage twisted into Sorcha’s small, secret smile. “Centuries belated, I fear.”

As she stepped between the standing stones, Caedmon sank his fingers into the soil and looked at Kellen. He extended his free hand, an offer, a plea.

Kellen hesitated. For centuries, he had carried the burden of another druid’s death, believed that weight was his alone to carry. He had been reckless, had lost control, and another had suffered the consequences. Thus, his vow to never join his power with another, never risk a life…

But that burden had not been his alone. Caedmon had borne that weight, too, shackled by Kellen’s fear. His brother continued to pay for Kellen’s mistake. Ravenwood itself suffered for it.

He glanced at Maggie, where she remained on the dolmen, yet another to sacrifice due to his own pride. He had been unable to see his own fear, or the brother whom he trusted in all other ways—but not his very essence, the power they both shared.

Caedmon had been correct. They were stronger together. Mayhap, had he not been such a fool, neither Maggie nor his twin would be at Sorcha’s mercy now.

“Brother,” Caedmon hissed, urgent, still reaching for him. “Are you with me?”

Kellen clasped his hand and squeezed. “Unto the very ends of the earth.”

Tears sheening his eyes, his brother smiled, looking so much like when they were boys, full of joy, life, and mischief, that Kellen could not resist an answering grin.

Stronger together. How had he ever believed otherwise?

Caedmon uttered a word beneath his breath. The land answered his call. Their call.

Energy trembled through earth and rock, leaf and air. It surged and rippled through Kellen as lightning struck the closest standing stone with the deep, hollow ring of a mighty bell. Sparks exploded, like steel on flint, and the next standing stone shuddered, adding a peal of its own.

Sorcha paused, her eyes narrowed, focused on the stones as each began to drone, ancient voices resurrected.

Clever Caedmon, turning the storm against its mistress.

“Trust me, brother?” Caedmon murmured, his gaze set on Sorcha.

“Always.”

Caedmon stood, pulling Kellen up with him—and shoved him forward, through the standing stones.

Back into his prison.