Page 41

CHAPTER 41

POV: Briar

Magic crackles at my fingertips as another wave of court alphas crashes against our position. The air tastes of frost and fury, my hair whipping around my face as I send a barrage of ice daggers toward an approaching Summer Court hunter. Behind me, I feel Cadeyrn's back pressed against mine, a solid anchor in the chaos.

"On your left," he warns, his voice tight with concentration.

I pivot without thinking, my body responding to his warning before my mind processes it. My hand shoots out, magic spiraling from my fingers to freeze the feet of an Autumn Court alpha trying to flank us. The bond between us pulses with information—danger, movement, threat—even as my heart remains walled against him.

"There are too many," I pant, sweat beading on my forehead despite the chill radiating from my skin. "We can't hold the Grove much longer."

Twenty, maybe thirty court alphas circle us, their coordinated movements suggesting an unprecedented alliance. I've never seen the courts work together like this. Their usual rivalries and power struggles seem forgotten in the face of what we represent—wild, uncontrollable magic that threatens their careful hierarchies.

Cadeyrn's shield expands to deflect a barrage of fiery projectiles from a Summer Court mage. "We don't need to hold it," he replies, his breathing remarkably steady. "We just need to survive until?—"

"Until the cavalry arrives?" The Hound materializes from the shadows between two ancient oaks, his mismatched eyes glinting in the crimson moonlight. Blood stains his leather armor, but his movements remain fluid, predatory. "Not exactly cavalry, but I found something that might help."

He gestures toward a tangle of roots at the base of the largest tree in the Sacred Grove. As I watch, the roots twist and separate, revealing a narrow passage into darkness.

"Underground tunnels," The Hound explains, ducking beneath a stray arrow. "The Old Ways connected all the sacred sites. The courts sealed them centuries ago, but the Wild Magic you two have been throwing around has weakened the barriers."

Cadeyrn and I exchange a glance over our shoulders. His ice-blue eyes are haunted by what he's learned about his own complicity, but there's determination there too. Whatever broken trust lies between us, our survival instincts align perfectly.

"Go," he tells me, magic brightening across his skin as he gathers power. "I'll hold them off."

"No." The word escapes before I can consider it. "We go together or not at all."

For a heartbeat, something flickers in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or a shadow of the connection we'd begun to forge before I learned the truth about the cullings. Then the moment passes, replaced by grim focus.

"Together, then. On my mark."

The Hound slips into the passage first, vanishing into shadow. I take a step back, feeling Cadeyrn move with me, our bodies still instinctively coordinated despite everything between us.

"Now!" Cadeyrn roars, and together we release a blast of pure Wild Magic.

Ice and silver light explode outward, momentarily blinding our pursuers. In that instant of confusion, we dive for the root passage, sliding into cool darkness as the entrance seals itself behind us.

---

The tunnels wind beneath the forest floor, illuminated only by the soft blue glow emanating from our skin. Arcane patterns pulse across Cadeyrn's arms, matching the rhythm of my own—a visual reminder of our connection even as emotional distance yawns between us.

"You're bleeding," he says quietly, gesturing to my arm where an Autumn Court blade caught me during the fight.

I glance down at the shallow cut. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." His voice remains neutral, but I catch the undercurrent of concern. "Wild Magic is amplifying everything, including blood scent. They'll track you through these tunnels if we don't bind it."

I want to argue, but his reasoning is sound. With a curt nod, I extend my arm.

Cadeyrn tears a strip of fabric from his already-tattered shirt and gently wraps the wound. His fingers are cool against my skin, careful not to press too hard. The simple touch sends a confusing wave of sensation through my body—anger and betrayal warring with the persistent pull of our claiming bond.

"There," he says, securing the makeshift bandage. "That should help."

"Thank you," I reply stiffly, withdrawing my arm. "Where are we going, exactly?"

The Hound, who has been scouting ahead, returns to our small circle of light. "Deeper than the courts ever go. There's an old place of power beneath the forest—older than the seasonal divisions, older than the Hunt as you know it."

"A sanctuary?" I ask, hope flickering despite everything.

"Not exactly." The Hound's expression is unreadable. "More like a nexus. Wild Magic flows strong there. It might give you a chance to..." He hesitates.

"To what?" Cadeyrn prompts.

"To complete whatever transformation has begun in both of you." The Hound gestures to our patterned skin. "You're neither entirely what you were nor fully what you're becoming. That makes you vulnerable."

I consider this as we continue through the winding tunnels. My body feels strange—powerful yet unstable, as though something is struggling to emerge. The silver in my hair has spread, and the points of my ears have sharpened further. Cadeyrn, too, seems caught between forms. Flowers bloom and wither along his hairline; his skin shifts between winter pale and summer gold.

"How much farther?" I ask after what feels like hours of walking.

"Not far," The Hound replies. "There's a chamber ahead where we can rest safely. Court alphas won't follow this deep—the Wild Magic disrupts their court-bound abilities."

The chamber, when we reach it, is surprisingly beautiful. Luminescent fungi grow along the walls, casting everything in soft blue-green light. A small pool of clear water bubbles in the center, steam rising from its surface.

"Hot springs," The Hound explains. "Fed by the same energy that powers the Wild Magic. Rest here. I'll keep watch at the tunnel entrance."

He slips away, leaving Cadeyrn and me in awkward silence.

I sink down against the wall, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming. My muscles ache, and the wound on my arm throbs dully. The events of the past days crash over me—the discovery of the culling grounds, the knowledge of Cadeyrn's complicity, our desperate flight from united court forces.

"You should drink," Cadeyrn says, kneeling by the spring and cupping water in his hands. "And clean your wound."

I want to refuse out of spite, but my throat is parched. I join him at the pool's edge, keeping a careful distance as I scoop up water. It tastes sweet and mineral-rich, instantly revitalizing.

"I'll sleep there," I say, pointing to the far side of the chamber. "You take this side."

Cadeyrn nods, accepting the boundary without protest. "Briar..." he begins, then seems to think better of it.

"What?" The word comes out sharper than intended.

He meets my gaze steadily. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. What I did—what I allowed to happen—is unforgivable. I know that."

"Then what are you asking for?" I demand.

"Nothing. I'm offering." He draws a slow breath. "Whatever happens, whatever you decide about... us... I will end the cullings. I will dismantle the system I helped maintain. Whether you stay or go, whether you hate me forever or not, I give you my word on that."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I glimpse the Cadeyrn who emerged during our time in the forest—the one who protected me, who seemed to care for me beyond mere possession.

"I can't..." I struggle to articulate the tangle of emotions. "I can't just forget what I saw. Those omegas. The children. My mother."

"I'm not asking you to." His voice is quiet but firm. "I'm telling you that regardless of what happens between us, I will right those wrongs as much as anyone can."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak further. The practical alliance we've formed is necessary for survival, but my heart remains guarded. I retreat to my chosen corner and curl onto my side, back turned to him.

Despite my exhaustion, sleep is fitful. My body alternates between burning hot and freezing cold, the claiming bond pulsing with need even as my mind rebels against it. Sometime in the dark hours, I drift into deeper sleep, my dreams filled with arcane patterns and crimson moons.

---

I wake to violent nausea.

My stomach heaves, and I barely manage to crawl away from my sleeping place before emptying its contents. Cold sweat breaks out across my skin as another wave hits me.

"Briar?" Cadeyrn is instantly alert, moving toward me with concern.

I hold up a hand to stop him, unwilling to be seen like this. "Stay back," I gasp. Though I know exactly what this is. Every omega knows the first signs.

Cadeyrn approaches anyway, his expression shifting from concern to wonder as his gaze drops to my abdomen. "You're with child," he says, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

"Of course I am," I snap, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "You've knotted me repeatedly during my heat under a crimson moon. What did you expect?" But even as the words leave my mouth, I realize something is wrong. Different.

My hands move to my abdomen, finding a firm, rounded swell that wasn't there yesterday. The arcane patterns across my skin have shifted, concentrating in a protective spiral around my midsection.

"It's happening too fast," I whisper, fear creeping into my voice despite my efforts to remain detached. "This isn't normal."

"The Wild Magic," Cadeyrn breathes, kneeling beside me. His eyes shine with something between awe and terror. "It's accelerating everything."

The implications crash over me like icy water. Pregnant with Cadeyrn's child when I can barely stand to look at him. Carrying the heir of a man whose signature authorized the culling grounds that killed my mother. The fierce protectiveness that surges through me is unexpected and overwhelming.

Cadeyrn leans forward, his expression intense. "May I listen?"

I hesitate, then nod once, sharply.

He tilts his head, his fae-enhanced hearing focused on my abdomen. His eyes widen suddenly, magic flaring across his skin in bright, pulsing waves. His hands clench into fists at his sides, trembling with restraint.

"Briar," he whispers, voice breaking with emotion. "Four. I hear four distinct heartbeats."

"Four?" The word escapes me in a horrified gasp. My hands press protectively against the swell. "That's not possible. Human omegas can't carry multiple fae children. The magical drain would—" I can't finish the sentence. We both know what happens to omegas who try to carry multiple fae offspring.

Tears spring to my eyes unbidden—not of joy but of primal fear mixed with fierce determination. My body may be a battlefield now, but these lives are mine to protect.

"You're not entirely human anymore," he reminds me, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'm not entirely what I was either. The Wild Magic has changed us both."

His fingertips hover above my abdomen, not quite touching, reverence and terror battling across his features. A single tear tracks down his cheek, crystallizing before it falls.

"I never thought..." He swallows hard. "In seven centuries, I never allowed myself to imagine offspring. The courts breed for political advantage, not..." He doesn't finish, but I understand what he can't say. Not love. Not family.

Quadruplets. Four lives forming inside me at magical speed. The reality crashes through me in waves of terror and wonder. I want to hate him, want to hate this pregnancy, but my body has already decided. My blood sings with fierce, primal protection for these lives that shouldn't be possible.

"The courts can never know," I say, gripping his wrist so hard my nails draw blood. "You know what they'd do. What you let them do to children that didn't fit their plans."

The accusation lands like a physical blow. Cadeyrn flinches, but doesn't pull away. His eyes—those ice-blue eyes that once regarded omegas with clinical detachment—now overflow with naked emotion.

"I will burn the four courts to ash before I let anyone touch them. Or you." The vow carries weight, power gathering around his words like frost on a winter morning. Magic flares across his skin, pulsing in time with my own. "I swear it on my life, my crown, and whatever remains of my soul."

I want to remind him that his promises mean little to me now, that he's already broken trust in the most fundamental way. But the raw desperation in his eyes stops the words in my throat. This isn't the calculated prince who signed death warrants without reading them. This is something new—a creature of both ice and fire, ready to tear apart centuries of order for something he only just discovered he wanted.

"What happens now?" I ask, one hand still resting on my swollen abdomen.

"We keep moving," Cadeyrn replies. "The nexus The Hound mentioned—it may be our only chance to stabilize what's happening to all of us."

All of us. Not just him and me anymore, but six lives bound together by Wild Magic and crimson moon magic. The thought is terrifying and somehow wondrous at once.

I struggle to my feet, fighting another wave of nausea. Cadeyrn moves to help me, then stops himself, respecting the boundaries I've established.

"I can stand on my own," I tell him, though my legs feel unsteady.

He nods, stepping back. "I know you can. You always have."

Something in his tone—respectful rather than condescending—eases the tension slightly. This practical alliance may be all we have now, but at least he's not treating me as a possession or a weakened vessel.

The Hound returns, taking in my changed appearance with a knowing look. "So it's begun," he says simply. "We should move quickly, then. The nexus isn't far, but your condition will advance rapidly in these tunnels. Wild Magic flows stronger underground."

I straighten my shoulders, one hand unconsciously protective over my abdomen. "Lead on, then."

As we follow The Hound deeper into the earth, I feel the four tiny heartbeats beneath my palm. Four lives that should be impossible. Four futures that could either heal or destroy the world above us.

I don't know if I can ever forgive Cadeyrn for his centuries of complicity. I don't know if the broken trust between us can ever truly heal. But as we walk side by side through ancient tunnels, magic pulsing in matching rhythms across our skin, I know one thing with absolute certainty: together, we have created something unprecedented, something powerful enough to rewrite the rules of two worlds.

Whether that creation brings salvation or destruction remains to be seen.