Page 23

CHAPTER 23

Fair

T riplets. Patrick was a triplet. Just like Bryn, Tye and I— Willow —but what about the others…?

I swiped through my notebook until I found Ben Einhart, killed by the Inquitate—triplet. Levi, missing in Mexico—triplet. Maggie, a triplet with Carmen and another.

I ran through ten on my list, just to be sure, but each time, I found their triplet records in the Ledger . I slapped my notebook shut, then stood staring, breathing quickly, at the Ledger . This was it. Why though? Why?

If it was an energy transfer, maybe we emitted more energy. Drew them to us? Like a moth to a lightbulb?

No, that was stupid.

Something about dying together had triggered the Inquitate to attack us. Because too many had come through? Or were we corrupted? Maybe Bryn was wrong and we’d never done anything to them at all, maybe it’d been about maintaining some balance, like rooting out an infection.

But then—why had they targeted me ? Because I was impersonating Willow? Was it just that simple? But they hadn’t come after me until I’d visited the Gate. So was it something I wasn’t supposed to see in the—

“Bryn!”

I nearly jumped as he appeared beside me, impossibly quiet, steadier than the pillars that held up the arching ceiling of the library. The leather apron was still secured snugly around his neck and waist. A smear of blue paint stood out on his collar.

“What have you discovered?” he asked quietly, as if he’d sensed the change. Maybe he had. Maybe his Mark of light let him sense the truth in things.

I took a breath, steadied, and flipped open my notebook. “I matched the rows with the notes you gave me. It’s the triplets, Bryn. Something about us coming over together has caused these attacks.”

His fist clenched and unclenched the cane, the movement flexing his shoulder. But all the color had fled his face.

“Bryn? What’s wrong?”

He rearranged his features again, but there was something there, flickering behind his eyes. “Nothing, my Rowan,” he murmured.

My?

“What are you—” But I broke off when he held out a hand for the notebook.

“If I could.”

Nodding, I handed it to him, watched as he mimicked what I’d done only minutes ago, flipping through each page, his eyes darting between the deaths noted in my journal and the rows in the Ledger . His nose moved closer and closer as he did, until his light hair brushed the top pages. Hopefully, he didn’t go too far back—I had some notes on him that weren’t very flattering.

“What do you think?” I asked quietly.

His sucked in his bottom lip, let it out, and shook his head before handing the journal back. I slid it onto the mantelpiece.

“I think,” he repeated slowly, “that I have been unforgivably incorrect in my assumptions.”

“Your previous theory, you mean?” The one that had convinced him the Inquitate would never target me—because I was a lie. “How does knowing it’s the triplets change things?”

His eyes tightened as he stared, hard, at the Ledger . Something clung to the air between him and the book, an invisible hum as if they recognized each other, or maybe the Gate just approved of him.

“Because,” he answered at length, “knowing that the reason for our targeting is due to us crossing together eliminates any cause on Earth.”

“Like who we might have known?”

“Or might have done, yes.”

Or might have done ? Was that what this was about? That he’d thought something we’d done had drawn the Inquitate to us? Had he thought Willow had caused this herself? That she deserved to be targeted?

Annoyance started to build, but deflated just as quickly. No, not just Willow. Him. Something he’d done—that’s what he thought. Some mistake, some error, that had led the Inquitate to him.

When James had tried to contact Bryn, he’d ignored him. Then, when James had asked Bryn to return to Naruka, Bryn had said, “ What makes you believe I wish to return? ”

Not that he hadn’t wanted to return, but that he’d thought he shouldn’t . Because he’d done something.

He hadn’t needed to document everything done by those killed from the Inquitate. He’d noted little things—a story about how Patrick had rescued the cat, Ben’s love for the saxophone. Why bother? Unless they mattered. Unless something we did here mattered.

I stepped between Bryn and the Ledger , focused on those improbably blue eyes, his strong chin, the deep curve under his cheekbone, his slim nose, the enticing pulse at his neck.

It was an effort not to step back when his thick, golden lashes lowered to half-mast over eyes that felt like the only light in the room. My pulse gave a loud thump, then the left side of his mouth quirked, just slightly, in that lopsided tilt that caused a few wrinkles to appear at the corners of his eyes.

Ask your question, Rowan.

Sometimes, I could almost hear him. Part of the Gate, the illusion, the dream of it all. Maybe a glimmer.

“Did you think you did something to draw the Inquitate?” I finally asked.

He sucked in his bottom lip, let it out on a soft pop.

Yes. He swallowed. “Yes.”

I hadn’t expected him to admit it. What could he have possibly done, this man who did nothing but worship the Gate, paint, and read? “Bryn, you can tell me what—”

I felt my eyes widen when he grasped my wrist, the pads of his fingers cool and firm and rough. Then he released me, face blank.

“Rowan, I—I wish to tell you something. Need ,” he corrected as a tingling sensation pulsed at my wrist. “ Need to tell you something.” He spoke so low that I leaned toward him to hear better. “When you arrived in Oslo, I—”

“What are ye two bloody doing in here?”

Fy Faen .

I spun as James burst into the library. Like Bryn, he had an apron tied around his waist, except James’s was covered in flour and chunks of pastry and his sweater looked like it’d come out the other end of a compacter.

But before James could even make it across the library, Bryn filled him in on what I’d uncovered, giving me far more credit than I deserved for discovering what I should have seen months ago.

“I feckin’ can’t believe it like,” James said when Bryn finished. “Let me see. Go on so and let me see.”

I angled my journal toward him under the light. James swiped it from me and flipped through, glancing rapidly between it and the Ledger . “Roe, me love—”

I held my breath, bracing for the denial.

“—you’re a bloody genius!” To my shock, he grabbed me in a crushing hug. “How the feck did I not notice this? Me mother, Levi—did ye check him?” He smacked a noisy kiss on my forehead.

“James, Christ,” I swore, and blushed scarlet.

“Ah, so O’Sahnazekiel can kiss ye but I can’t? Sure, I see how it is so.”

Suspicion had my gaze shooting between Bryn and James. If Bryn hadn’t committed some sin before to draw the Inquitate, he definitely had by telling James what was going on in the Gate. “So you know,” I accused James as Bryn let out a low laugh.

He grinned wickedly. “Aye, I do, though ye can be sure Bryn’s ever the gentleman. I’ve been watching Nereida and O’Sahnazekiel for years. Ye think I didn’t pick up that they were together? Actually, I’ve a mind to give you a book on mating in Ruhaven.”

I choked on my tongue.

Mouth pursed, James strolled through the bookcases. “Of course, sure. Ye wouldn’t want any surprises, now would ye?”

Oh, god, please shut up, James. Please shut up right now. Not with Bryn—

“Ah, here it is.” He tugged out a tome larger than anything that was written in this world. “Should cover the basics.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Now then,” James said, pushing the book into my hands and nipping the journal. He flipped through my notes while I held The Art of Mating like it would catch fire. Hopefully, it would take me with it. “Jayzus, ‘tis all here, isn’t it? Me sister is bloody brilliant.”

Sister .

Guilt gnawed at me. “James, I— About what I said outside that day…”

In that subtle way of his, Bryn excused himself, sliding around James until he was out of the library and closing the door quietly behind him.

“Roe, ‘tis me who should be apologizing,” James admitted when Bryn left, rubbing at the back of his head. “I don’t know what came over me. Sure, we’re so lost in the Gate sometimes and—”

“No, James, I’m sorry. I know what Essie is to you. I should have thought of her, and I wish…I know I’m not the sister you—”

He touched my shoulder. “No, Roe, ye are. Of course ye are. Would ye let me apologize for being an ejit? I know what Willow is to ye as well, I do, and I could see later how it must have seemed to ye. For me to be tellin’ ye yer the same for me. Sure, ‘tis only been a few months for yerself while I’ve known ye a lifetime. So…I’m sorry like.”

My throat closed up. “Me too, James. Me too.”

S eated at the kitchen table, James lowered his newspaper. Beside him, a stack of envelopes balanced precariously, each addressed to a different triplet. He glanced at our apple-shaped clock and frowned.

“Ya want more coffee, Roe?” Tye asked over the radio, already filling my mug, his shoulder-length hair loose and soaking up the bright morning.

I’d spent the better part of last night in the Gate, losing myself in the memory of Nereida, feeling the weight of the swords she practiced with—twin elbow blades as deadly as they were long. She might not have had any Mark, but she made up for it in skill. I’d never felt anyone move like her—like it wasn’t swordplay but a dance, dipping and ducking the blows O’Sahnazekiel tried to land. Not that he’d have hurt her—something I realized after a few slipped through and I prepared for the memory to end.

“Will we leave in about ten so?” James asked after another glance at the clock. He’d spent the last week gathering addresses for the triplets.

Kazie laid a bangled hand on his arm. “Stop worrying. They’ve been fine for years—they’ll survive a few weeks more.”

I should have considered what this discovery would do to James after the immediate relief of knowing wore off.

Tye spread his hands. “I ain’t ever seen an Inquitate, though, and I’m a triplet. I ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong,” he added when I frowned at him. “But you’re gonna scare a lot of people with these letters, James. We oughta be sure.”

But we were sure, as I’d explained to him last week. The pattern was clear—not a single Ruhaven had been targeted who hadn’t been a triplet. James and Bryn had checked and verified every single one in the last century.

As Tye tossed other theories at him, James speared the butter and spread enough on his scone to earn him a fast track to type 2 diabetes. And if that didn’t get him there, the spoonful of cream he added would.

I scooped half of it into my coffee, just in case.

“Get yer own like,” James admonished, then asked Tye, “If it’s not triplets, what else?”

“Maybe it’s just us going on up there to the Gate?” Tye supplied.

I slid out my notebook, flipped to where I’d first written that theory of his down, crossed it out. “James, what about Levi? If he’s not dead, we need to warn him. Did you find his new address?”

“No sure,” he said around a raspberry scone that left him with a creamy mustache. “Tye, have ye had any luck contacting Carmen? She was his recruiter and might know where Levi’s gone.”

“I wrote her like ya wanted,” Tye answered. “Be a few weeks still before we get an answer. But ya know how she is—don’t want much to do with Naruka no more.”

Why was that? “Did she have a—”

The kitchen door creaked open.

My pulse fluttered when Bryn limped through. A stupid response just because he’d been easier to be around these last weeks—playful, if I didn’t know him better. Happier, maybe? It was hard to tell, but he’d seemed unburdened in a way he hadn’t before. Which made me wonder just what he thought he’d done to draw the Inquitate before we’d discovered the triplet connection.

Still, I was enjoying the subtle change in him. Like right now—it was the first time I’d ever seen him in something as ordinary as pajamas, looking spectacularly un-Ruhaven-like in the striped bottoms and snug sweater. It was a side of him I wouldn’t mind seeing more of.

Bryn cast around haplessly, like he’d forgotten he ever joined us for breakfast and didn’t know where to sit or what to do. He looked a little windblown, too, with a faint sleep crease on his left cheek, and hazy eyes. Probably from all the late nights he’d spent in the library this last week, trying to find missing addresses for James.

I pushed out of my chair and grabbed a mug for him, filled it.

“Thank you, Rowan,” Bryn said when I handed it to him, then he flashed such a blinding smile that my heart stuttered, flatlined, and restarted all in one beat. Yeah— new Bryn was definitely trouble for me. “Did you make this?”

“I—what? No, it’s safe to drink.”

He grinned, said, “A relief, I am sure,” then motioned with the coffee to the bread box next to the fridge.

Oh, that. “Just something for James.”

Bryn rubbed a thumb over the engraving. “A bow and arrow?”

I slid into the chair again. “I thought for him and Essie. My dad showed me a few tricks for carving. He can do much better.”

“I find myself very envious of being able to create something both so artistic and functional,” Bryn commented, opening and closing the box. “There is nothing to be done with my drawings but hang them on the wall, and I am certain James will allow no further to crowd his.”

“Not unless ye do more nudes again,” James said without missing a beat.

I bit back a grin as Bryn asked, “Have you eaten, Rowan?”

I lifted my now-creamy cup of coffee.

“If I am to take you to the Gate today, I expect you not to be in danger of fainting on me. Certainly, I will be unable to carry you home on one leg.”

“I’ll eat a pastry on the way.”

Across the table, Kazie flipped a page of her novel, and the cover’s impressive cleavage captured James and Tye’s brief attention. She sucked her coffee through a spiral straw as she read. “Tye,” she said when it drew spluttering air. “You sure you wanna go back home if the Inquitate are following triplets?”

My good mood took a nose dive when I remembered that he’d decided to take a few weeks in L’Ardoise.

“Gotta,” he said. “The guys who took over my lease in L’Ardoise are causin’ issues. One dude won’t pay, the other’s gone and blown out the bathroom floor with a burst pipe. Gotta sort it out, is all.”

The only reason he had to sort that out was because he’d rented a place while he tried to convince me to move to Naruka.

“Tye, maybe you should let someone else deal with that,” I tried, “until we figure out more about the Inquitate.”

“Ya think I’m gonna fall for a damn illusion?”

“It’s not as simple as—”

“Folks, I got things to take care of.” He spread his hands on a copy of Horse Riders Weekly . “Ya think there ain’t some risk every time I get on a stallion’s back? Ya’ll would have me never leave this house if it was up to ya. Live a little.” He lifted the magazine and said over its cover, “And I don’t mean in the Gate.”

As Kazie argued with him and James weighed in with suggestions, Bryn slid a plate in front of me. Cheese wedges, diced cucumbers, sliced cherry tomatoes, and toothpick-speared olives were arranged in a pretty medallion. A fork and knife followed on a triangle napkin, equally pretty. Like he cared, maybe more than cared, like all those trips to the Gate together had mattered.

Bryn said from above me, “Why, Rowan, are you smiling?”

Tye lifted his coffee. “‘Cause she’s wonderin’ who the hell eats olives for breakfast.”

James shook his head and muttered, “Continental Europeans.”

I looked up at Bryn, his face a rare mixture of amusement and uncertainty. “Thanks.”

He smiled then, a real one, the kind he’d entered the kitchen with that could grab my breath and walk away with it. “You are quite welcome, Rowan,” he said, and nipped a tomato.

The chair beside me was drawn back, then Bryn slid into it, unpacking a book from his satchel and setting it next to his coffee.

I sampled a cucumber—salted and surprisingly good at nine in the morning—and asked Tye, “Do you want me to come with you to the farm?”

James shot a careful look my way as Tye waved the suggestion off. “No, darlin’, you stay here and enjoy dancing with the fairies.”

“There are no fairies.” Bryn.

When I peeked a glance at him, he was intensely focused on his book—a book, I realized a moment later, that I recognized.

“What are ye grinning about now?” James asked me.

I schooled my face. “Nothing. Did you find the address for Levi?”

James rose with a plate in one hand, some jam on the tip of his nose. “Not yet. Bryn, did ye have any luck yerself?” He paused when he caught sight of the book Bryn was reading, snorted. “ The Handy Handyman ,” he read with amusement. “Does this mean one of ye is finally going to fix me car’s feckin’ spark plugs?”

Bryn’s smile was quick and devilish. “I believe this novelty was a carefully placed gift from Rowan,” he said, watching me under the shelter of thick lashes. “Am I correct?”

It was indecent to look so good this early in the morning.

“Consider it a trade for the socks I keep finding,” I said drolly. After months of thick, wool socks turning up in my room, I’d finally realized they weren’t misplaced laundry from Kazie.

Bright humor danced in Bryn’s eyes. “Rowan, if someone is leaving you socks, I am entirely unaware of it.”

I draped an arm over the back of my chair while my heart clamored. “ Are you?”

He mimicked my movement, bringing us face to face under the light of the morning sun, whose warmth tingled my spine and turned the tips of Bryn’s ears a pearly pink. I could count all the barely distinguishable freckles on his slim nose and high-boned cheeks. “Truly, I am mystified. However, should you uncover the culprit, I hope you at least wear the things, for whomever is leaving them must be tired of looking at such freezing feet all the time.”

God, he was beautiful. “So it was for my benefit.”

“Naturally, as this is for mine, no doubt,” Bryn replied, lifting the dog-eared manual. “I found it hidden in my bookcase next to Romantic Nudes , and as you intended, it rather stood out.”

I tucked my tongue in my cheek. “You need to learn, Bryn.”

He sketched a slow eyebrow and leaned in. “I think my nudes are rather tasteful.”

I huffed a rough laugh. “You know what I mean. The sink was leaking for months because you installed the male part wrong.”

Across the table, Tye turned the page of his magazine. “Forget how a dick works, Stornoway?”

Christ, Tye.

Ignoring him, Bryn bumped his knee against mine. “Do you make a habit of sneaking into my room?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Only as much as you do mine.”

“Then quite. But if so, I shall need to leave out my own recommendations for you. Tell me, Rowan, do you share Kazie’s interests in books?”

My eyes whizzed to the novel she sat smirking behind, and the ample cleavage on it.

Coffee slid down my throat like melted chocolate. Say something . “I, um. I really don’t think—” I broke off on a startled gasp.

Bryn’s irises burned pure, glittering gold.

“Rowan?” As the half-smile on his face wilted, I stared stupidly into his suddenly very normal, very blue eyes. “Are you well?”

“Your—your eyes,” I stammered. “They were…”

Puzzled, he touched my shoulder. “Yes, Rowan?”

“ Gold ,” I breathed, glancing around the table.

Tye looked unimpressed, Kazie still smirked, and James cast his eyes to the ceiling. Hadn’t they seen it too? Or was I imagining things again?

A series of emotions passed across Bryn’s face before his eyes softened, his lips curving slowly.

Was I staring at his mouth?

“Is that a—a glimmer?” I asked quietly. Though his eyes hadn’t shot gold in Oslo.

Tye barked a humourless laugh, but it was James who drawled, “Oh, I don’t think I’d call it that.”

“I wonder,” Tye said, voice sharp, “how your little trips to the Gate are going, Stornoway?”

Bryn’s hand tightened briefly before sliding off my shoulder. “Quite fine,” he answered crisply. “I am able to anchor Rowan from within the Gate.”

“I just bet,” Tye scoffed.

“What’s that mean?” I said. “Did you see his eyes?”

Tye rose and polished off his coffee. “I gotta say I’m surprised is all. Ya know, that he’s got any strength left to pull ya out, what with everything goin’ on in Ruhaven.”

My mind went blank. “Do you know each other?”

“ Tye ,” James warned.

Tye brushed him away. “Nope. I ain’t ever met Stornoway. But I told ya we kicked him out before ‘cause he got too far in. Well, I’m seein’ that all over again, ain’t I?”

“Do not say one word further,” Bryn warned, voice laced with that faint command. Was this the rank Bryn had mentioned? How could they actually obey some rules from Ruhaven?

But Tye continued, coming around the table and planting his fists on the duck placemats. “It’s goddamn true,” Tye challenged as Bryn met his stare. “You’re obsessed, and draggin’ Roe into it as well. She ain’t even eatin’ meat anymore and it’s only been a few months. It’s your fault, forcin’ her into the Gate, making her believe that the life in there is worth as much as this is.”

Bryn reached for his cane. “It is. It is my life. And yours.”

Tye straightened with a look of disgust. “Life. Is that what ya call it? When you’re just in there fuckin’ your mate all the time.”

Something froze inside me, slowed, almost like I was slipping through the Gate. Mate? Mate ? The word ping-ponged in the empty space in my chest, a ribbed triage before my brain could take it out and process it.

The linoleum turned a dark crimson when Bryn’s coffee slipped off the table.

He had a mate ?

But that meant—for someone like Bryn—that meant no one here . So that hadn’t been flirting, it’d been…Bryn not disliking me. Of course I’d read too much into it. Too much into the casual touches when really, he had this woman in the Gate.

If I’d lost my appetite before, it was in smoking ruins now.

Cane in hand, Bryn rose slowly to face Tye, cutting off James’s attempt at defusing the sudden tension. “As usual, you are absurdly crude.”

My heart sunk— not a denial .

Tye picked at a thumbnail. “Only sayin’ the truth. You ever heard of that little thing? The truth, I mean?”

Bryn lowered his voice to a whispered threat. “You would disobey this law?”

Tye scoffed. “Stornoway, you’re really gonna stand there and lecture me about Ruhaven’s laws? Or did I get things wrong when I heard how much you were enjoying yourself in Norway?”

Every muscle in Bryn’s body pulled tight.

“Oh, guess that bit of truth hurts, too, huh?” Tye taunted, and even Kazie let her novel flop down as the kitchen chilled a degree.

“It was you who exiled me,” Bryn said in a low voice. “ You who forced me out, who forced me to choose, and now you would…” His head whipped to the door, nostrils flaring.

“Bryn?” I murmured in the clocks’ rhythmic chattering.

“Someone is here,” he stated flatly. “In Naruka.”