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Chapter

Twenty-Four

“ What? ” Kain’s hold on the orb staff wobbles slightly, then straightens resolutely. He continues to pin Shira and Alora in its beam. “Prove it. Prove you’re not under her spell.”

“First of all, your thing would have dispelled it immediately.” Alora waggles her fingers toward the staff and rolls her eyes—but Jaylie can see how they gleam with playfulness.

“And if I were a poor damsel, and Shira was a nasty, mean witch…do you suppose I would do this?” Suddenly she trips Shira—who’s a good deal taller than her—with a swift kick, sweeping the woman’s feet out from under her.

Shira gasps in surprise, but before her ass smacks against the ground, Alora catches her with one arm around her waist and the other behind her head.

“My darling,” Alora says sweetly before diving down and kissing her passionately.

Loren claps delightedly.

Kain blushes a deep, dark shade of purple.

Shira stands and composes herself, brushing her hands along her pants. After a moment, her flushed smile fades. She narrows her eyes. “Lord Aurelio Donati sent you, didn’t he?” Her tone drips with contempt.

“Of course he did,” Morgana says. “But you have to admit how bad this looks for you. You stole his bride right from the altar. Made quite a scene, too.” Somehow, she looks grudgingly impressed, even as she keeps her daggers out and ready for stabbing, just in case.

Alora and Shira share a smug smile. “We did, didn’t we?” Shira sounds wistful. “But I did not steal anyone. I rescued her. It was Aurelio who stole my love from the start.”

Behind Shira and Alora, Loren circles back toward the table where they were having breakfast and begins to pour himself a steaming hot cup of tea. He catches Jaylie’s eye and raises a single eyebrow as if to ask whether she’d like any. Drama! he mouths.

Jaylie rolls her eyes, sends a prayer up to Marlana, and sharply extends her palms outward. “ Enough, ” she says. Five pairs of eyes fix on her face. “We need to start from the beginning. Clearly we’ve all arrived here with different versions of what happened, but we need to learn the truth.”

Shira surprises Jaylie by nodding vehemently. “Of course.” She gestures toward the holy symbol hanging from Jaylie’s neck. “I’ve seen priestesses like you cast spells that have a way of drawing the truth out of people. Can you do that?”

Jaylie opens her mouth then snaps it closed.

It’s the same spell she offered to cast for Donati after the chaos of his ruined wedding.

But he’d waved her off. She hadn’t thought it suspicious at the time, but…

her brows knit together, and she clears her throat carefully. “Of course. We’ll start there.”

As Jaylie traces a wide circle on the ground with glittering gold dust, Alora turns to Kain.

“For us to participate in your priestess’s spell, you’ll have to let us out of this beam.

I can tell it nullifies magic.” She taps her pointed chin thoughtfully.

“And if this all goes well, perhaps you’ll let me pick your brain about how it works. It’s a fascinating contraption…”

Kain’s tail snaps back and forth irritably. “How do I know you won’t attack us the moment you’re free?” He’s not speaking to Alora. His slitted eyes are fixed on the witch.

Shira’s dark gaze is steady on his face. “You’ll just have to trust us that far.”

“Or you can simply trust me, big boy,” Morgana quips. She pokes the tip of one of her knives just under Shira’s ribs. “One wrong move and I’ll bury this in your heart, aye? Faster than you can cast any spell.”

Shira scowls but nods.

Jaylie finishes constructing her ritual circle, and as she sprinkles the last bit of gold dust to connect the lines, the ring glows with a rippling pink light.

“All right, everybody in.” At the looks of hesitance from her party, Jaylie points emphatically to the circle.

“If Shira’s willing to be honest with us, the least we can do is meet her halfway. ”

Jaylie takes the first step in. Marlana’s magic is always warm, gentle, and comforting, like being wrapped in a soft blanket while sitting before the hearth.

But this time is different. The heat immediately cuts through to her core, like a sunbeam magnified by a glass many times over.

It’s almost painful, but as she opens herself to it, the intensity lessens.

Just to test it, she says, “My name is Loren Ros—” Pain spikes violently at her temple, so agonizing that she can’t bring herself to finish her sentence.

After a few panting breaths, she tries again. “My name is Jaylie.”

It wasn’t always her name, but it is now. The sunlight-warmth embraces her truth.

Loren steps into the circle next. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you cast your magic?” he muses. “You’ve got this…glow. You sparkle.”

“Flatterer.”

“I mean it.” Jaylie can see the smile lines in the corners of Loren’s eyes as the spell testifies to the honesty of his words.

One by one, everyone steps into the circle, with Shira and Alora escorted by Morgana. Finally, Kain gingerly places the staff on the ground outside of the ring before he shuffles in last. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Speak. Before my patience runs out.”

“Right now? You’re stopping the game right now ?” Morgan slams her fist on the table, causing all of the dice to shiver. “C’mon, Liam, you can’t do that to us.”

Meanwhile, Jules leans back in her chair, clutching her chest as she giggles. “I can’t believe I thought she was charmed. I was about to cut Shira’s head off!”

I meet Liam’s eyes from across the table.

He has his hands folded neatly on top of his spiral DM notebook, and it warms my heart to see how fucking pleased he looks.

He told me years ago that every Dungeon Master’s greatest wish is simple: all he wants is player engagement—player investment.

This must be bliss for him. He gives me a little eyebrow bounce and a quick flash of a grin, and in return I fire at him with my finger guns.

“What can I say?” he teases. “We’ve already played over our allotted time, and I like to leave you guys on a cliff-hanger. That way you’re hungry for more.”

“Oh fuck off.” Noah lets out one of his booming laughs and waves a hand at Liam. “You’ve had us hooked from the start, DM; no need for such petty carrot-dangling strategies.”

As the three of them hound Liam for more game time, I glance down to my notebook. With an ink pen and a sick neon-green highlighter, I’d sketched out a portrait of Kain. The orb illuminating him from below highlights his more devilish features.

Suddenly, Liam thuds down his half-empty can of beer to get everyone’s attention. “I want to prepare you guys,” he warns. “We only have a few sessions left.”

I sag into my chair. “Already?” When Liam first put the campaign together, he mentioned to me that he’d purposefully planned it to be brief for several reasons.

For one, it’s easier for newer players to commit to a shorter storyline.

And second, it was only ever intended to last for the summer.

It’s another anxious reminder that my days here are numbered.

“Yes, just a few more weeks,” Liam confirms. Just as everyone starts to deflate, he jumps in.

“But I want to do something to celebrate. Let’s plan an end-of-campaign outing the weekend we finish.

That way, after I’ve slaughtered you all in the final boss fight, you’ll at least have some sort of consolation prize. ”

I snort and toss my head. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

He looks to each of us. “Any ideas?”

Morgan passes her palm over her curls, looking thoughtful. “A new axe-throwing bar opened up a few towns over.” Her red-painted lips spread into a grin. “I hear they’ve got daggers, too.”

Noah presses forward on his elbows. “We could have a real adventure. We could go camping. S’mores, beer, trails, campfire songs—we’ll be just like our characters, out on one last journey together.” Noah beams expectantly.

Everyone is horrified.

“Camping? In this heat?”

“Noah, it’s the middle of July. What the fuck, no —”

“Do you mean, like, actual tents? We’d be sleeping on the ground?”

“My sweet summer child, is this your first year in Texas?”

Everyone speaks up at once, and pressing the back of my hand to my mouth isn’t enough to cover my laughter. Always good-natured, Noah grins and holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine—not our cup of tea. That’s okay.” Under the table, I squeeze his thigh consolingly.

Jules smiles kindly at Noah, a little patronizing but still sweet. “I do like the idea of connecting with our characters one last time, though,” she offers. “What about the Renaissance Faire?”

Liam strokes his beard. “I’ve always meant to go.”

Morgan hums. “I could be down for that. Bet they’ll have axe-throwing there, too.”

Noah nods with interest.

I’m the only one who has to ask. “What’s a Renaissance Faire?”

Jules brightens, her cheeks rosy. “It’s a medieval fantasy festival,of a sort.

Originally it was meant to celebrate Renaissance culture, but most people just like to dress up as knights, wenches, fairies, elves, and other fantasy-inspired creatures.

They’ve got jousting, turkey legs, music…

” She trails off, a little sheepish. “Me and my husband go every year with the kids. It’s our favorite. ”

“Do we have to dress up?” I ask.

Jules smiles. “It’s more fun when you do.”

“We could dress as our characters,” Noah suggests.

Morgan pets at her imaginary beard as Jules reaches up to adjust her headband, probably already imagining how she might fashion horns from it.

“I like it,” Liam announces. “Though I’ll have to figure out which character to be.”

“You would make a very convincing Donati,” Jules says.

“Or Shira,” Morgan teases.

Noah’s eyes go wide. “It’s got to be Alastair. Alastair or bust.”

I’m losing my mind over the thought of painting Liam green when Jules smacks her palm against her forehead. “I’m so sorry, y’all, I forgot—the season doesn’t start until the fall. It won’t be open for a few more months.” She casts a doe-eyed, apologetic look specifically toward me.

Disappointment settles around the table, and I add the Faire to the list of things I’ll miss.

Noah jumps in with a forced optimism. “We’ll keep brainstorming. We’ll figure something out, yeah?”

Liam nods. “Just another cliff-hanger to resolve next time, folks.”