Page 7 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

Abreath of relief left me when I saw Waylon was still here. I’d feared he’d taken off toward New Haven while I’d been distracted. I’d hoped he wasn’t foolish enough to brave the Black Forest alone, but he was desperate, and desperate people did foolish things. I knew because I was desperate, too.

Angling my head, I listened to Isabelle’s heartbeat inside the cottage.

It was growing stronger by the second, her breathing becoming more even.

She was going to be okay. She had to be—I needed to know what had happened at the mansion after Celeste had snatched me away.

What had happened to him… A ragged exhale escaped as my eyes pricked with tears.

Briefly squeezing them shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger.

I couldn’t give in to panic. Not until I knew how dire the situation truly was.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I opened my eyes and took a steadying breath.

Waylon paced the front porch, the warped wooden boards groaning under his heavy footsteps.

Celeste sat in an old wooden chair in the corner, her eyes closed, and her weathered face relaxed.

She appeared asleep, but I knew better than to think that she was—she was listening to the world around her.

I had to fight the urge to shake her and ask if she knew what had happened to Henry.

“What’s going on in there?” Waylon asked, stopping his pacing. He jerked his chin toward the closed door behind me.

It seemed we were putting what had happened earlier aside for now. Fine by me. We would just add what had transpired to the many things that had been left unspoken between us ever since I’d turned.

“Wren is giving Isabelle his blood,” I said, and Waylon’s brows shot up in shock. “Willingly,” I added quickly.

The thought of Wren doing that for Isabelle brought a scowl to my face because I didn’t trust his motives. I had good reasons not to trust him. Two weeks ago, he’d kidnapped me and brought me to the Black Forest to deliver me to the Dark Witches.

“Do you need to feed?” Waylon asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Now it was my turn to be shocked.

“Are you offering?” I asked, pinning him with a stare.

He paled and swallowed thickly but didn’t avert his gaze.

“Yes,” he replied.

The tendons in his neck stood out as all his muscles tensed. The smell of his sweat and fear permeated the air.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

He clearly didn’t want to do it. In light of recent events, I realized that I didn’t trust his motives, either.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand through his short, light-brown hair. “I feel like what happened was my fault.”

“It was,” I said without hesitation. “It’s because of you that we’re stuck here, and Henry’s life is now in danger.”

If he’s still alive, an echo of thought in my mind. He is! I shouted in my head, refusing to believe the alternative.

“And his life wouldn’t be in danger otherwise?” Waylon challenged. “The clans are not going to give up control over the Empire. You and Henry stand in their way.”

“You said I’m just like the rest of them,” I bit out.

“Words spoken out of rage,” he admitted, as his forest-green eyes softened just a fraction. “I know you’re different. You’ve given up so much for the humans.”

“And now you want me to give up my life?”

“You were willing to do it before.”

“But now I have something worth living for.”

“And you didn’t before?” He tilted his head, looking at me incredulously.

“Of course I did, but–”

“But now you have Henry,” he finished for me.

I hoped I still had him. Would I know if he’d met his demise? Would I have felt it in my heart if he’d been killed?

I should have told him, I thought, as the last look he’d given me flashed through my mind. But I didn’t, and now it might be too late.

Despair surged, threatening to sweep me under, but before it could, I heard shuffling footsteps coming from inside the house.

Spinning around from Waylon, I yanked open the front door to find Isabelle on the other side.

Our gazes locked just as she started to crumple to the ground. I caught her before she could collapse.

“Henry?” I asked, staring into her wide eyes, which were still mostly black with hunger.

I knew my own eyes were pleading with her to tell me what I wanted to hear…needed to hear.

“He lives,” she rasped, clutching my forearms for support. “But they have him. The clans took him.”

A strangled cry tore from my throat as my legs buckled, and I went down to my knees, dragging Isabelle with me.

When Waylon rushed to our side, I shook my head, refusing his help.

I needed this, and Isabelle did, too. We latched on to each other, sharing in our anguish about Henry and the dread and uncertainty about our future.

It seemed holding on to each other was the only thing preventing us from falling apart.

I began to tremble as tears spilled, running down my face.

They were tears of relief because Henry was alive, but they were also tears of sorrow because the clans had him.

They’d taken him to lure me out, I was sure of it.

I had something they wanted, so they’d taken something I wanted—someone I couldn’t live without.

“I should have told him,” I whispered, as a ragged sob escaped me.

Understanding washed over Isabelle’s blood-covered face.

“I think he knows,” she said low, her dark gaze flicking over my features. “Find solace in that.”

I gave a small shake of my head. “Even if he knows, I should have told him. He deserved to hear it from me.”

“Then tell him when you see him again,” Isabelle whispered, her eyes soft.

She’d never looked at me like that before, with empathy and compassion.

“We have to go after him,” I declared, as I rose to my feet, bringing Isabelle with me.

She swayed where she stood but managed to stay up.

“You can’t,” Celeste said, rising from the chair she’d been occupying.

“What?” I swung my head to look at her.

“You are part White Witch, Sophie. Listen to the world around you. What is it saying?”

“I don’t care what it’s saying,” I snarled. “I’m going after Henry.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to do, and you know it,” Celeste said calmly.

“She’s right,” Isabelle chimed in.

My head snapped back to her, and the look I gave her must have been scathing because she staggered back away from me. She grasped the doorframe for support, but held my gaze.

“Henry is my brother, and I love him. I want to save him just as much as you do, but we have to be smart about this. It’s us against the clans. The odds are not in our favor.”

I knew she was right. Celeste hadn’t been wrong, either.

The world was whispering things to me at that very moment, urging me not to leave this place.

The voices in my head were becoming louder, more demanding.

I gritted my teeth and shut them all out.

They died just as quickly as they had appeared.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the message the world was trying to send, even though it went against everything I felt in my heart.

There was a pull, a tug in my blood, in my very bones that urged me to go to Henry, to find him.

The pull that I knew wouldn’t abate until I held him in my arms again, breathing the same air as he, listening to his heartbeat.

Strong and relentless. I recalled the steadfast rhythm I would recognize anywhere as if it were my own.

Henry was strong and relentless. Unyielding.

He would not break. I had to believe that, if only to keep my sanity.

He would survive, because as much as I wanted to live for him, he wanted to live for me, with me, in this brave new world.

“You’re right. The odds are not in our favor,” I finally conceded.

Isabelle’s grip on the doorframe was still tight, but the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“We’re going to even the odds.” I turned to Celeste. “I want to learn my magic.”

The witch’s shrewd eyes narrowed as she appraised me as if measuring my worth. I stood unmoving, waiting for her perusal to be over. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she must have found it because she gave a curt nod.

“Very well. I will teach you. We will begin soon, but right now, the dawn is near. We all should go inside and get some rest.”

She was right yet again—I could feel the sunrise creeping up on these woods. A pins-and-needles sensation pricked my skin and drove me to find shelter from the first rays of the new day.

Isabelle must have felt it, too, because she let go of the doorframe and retreated back inside the house, leaving a trail of blood in her wake from the deep lacerations covering her body.

I looked down at myself, realizing for the first time that my tunic and pants were also covered in her blood from when we’d held on to each other.

“Is she going to be okay?” Waylon asked, drawing my attention to him.

“Yes, but she needs to feed more,” I replied.

I hoped that Wren was still up to the task of giving Isabelle what she so desperately needed. I could hear his labored breathing coming from inside the house. He hadn’t followed Isabelle out on the porch earlier, staying behind to recover from her feeding on him.

“And you?” Waylon asked, his voice strained.

The smell of his fear returned, strong and overwhelming.

“I don’t need to feed if that’s what you’re asking. I’d fed before the Dark Witches attacked, and I can go days without needing blood unless I’m injured.”

A breath of relief left Waylon as his taut features smoothed out just a little. He reached up and clasped the back of his neck with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry about Henry,” he said low.