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Lorcan’s head whipped to the front of the room. He cradled his injured shoulder in his other arm, his eyes wide with alarm at the sight of the robin on the oak throne.

“Impossible,” Lorcan said.

“I am the new head of the Druidic Order,” Niamh declared to the room. “You answer to me now.”

No one spoke. The Druids who were still unharmed from Ethan and Gen’s attack stared in apparent shock. A change in leadership, after the death of Lorcan’s second, in the midst of Lorcan’s ascension, had to be…terrifying.

Niamh’s eyes settled on the lot of them in the center of the room. “You may leave. I have no quarrel with you.”

Graves stood and then dropped to a knee before Kierse. “My wren.”

“You came. I called for you, but I didn’t think you could hear me,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I’ve always been here. I’ll always be here,” he reassured her, offering her his hand. She hesitated a breath of a second. His voice was soft but firm. “I’m not like him. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she said and set her hand in his.

He helped her to her feet. “Let’s go home.”

“And me?” Lorcan asked.

Niamh tilted her head. “You’ve defiled our sacred oaths. If you complete repentance, you can return to the fold.”

Lorcan looked like he was going to spit at her feet as he dragged himself to his feet. But all he said was, “And if I don’t?”

“Then you are in exile,” Niamh said simply.

Lorcan snarled. “This isn’t the end of this, Robin.”

Niamh leaned forward on the throne, the power humming through her. “Looking forward to it.”

Kierse left them to their new feud. She wanted no part of it. This was the last place in the entire world she wanted to remain. She couldn’t even look at Lorcan as she walked to the doors. But she could still feel him burrowing down inside her.

Kierse exited the throne room, holding Graves’s arm.

Padded barefoot onto the hardwood floors with Gen and Ethan hurrying to keep up.

They went outside into the midnight summer air.

It wasn’t until she slid into the back of Graves’s limo, finally safe, that she felt the jagged pieces of her begin to pierce her skin.

The ache and the pain and the horror of what she had experienced hit her full-on.

A sob ripped from her throat, and she buried her face in her hands.

No one said a word as George pulled the limo away from the Druid headquarters.

Gen slipped her arms around Kierse’s body.

She wanted to push her away and tell her that she couldn’t accept comfort right now, but it was Gen, the one person in her life who had always been there to put the pieces back together.

Gen who could heal anything. But Kierse knew she couldn’t heal this.

“How are you okay?” Kierse asked through her tears.

Gen rubbed her back gently in small circles. “Cauldron.”

“You got it open?”

Gen nodded. “Group effort between Walter, Laz, and Graves. They followed the instructions you laid out for yourself. They had to or else I would have died.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I don’t think you had a choice about that.”

No, her choice had been ripped away from her. Her eyes lifted to Ethan. The shame on his face was wide and apparent. He’d always worn his emotions on his sleeve. They were so visible that it was almost painful to witness.

“Kierse, I’m so sorry.”

“Did you know what was going to happen?”

“No!” he gasped at once. He ran a hand over his dark curls. “I did tell Lorcan about your memories, but I had no idea what he would think about it until afterward. When I found out what was happening, I left.”

“He came and got me,” Graves said. “I was already on my way when I heard you call out.”

Their eyes met. “You heard me?”

“I have no idea how, but yes, I heard you.”

“I thought I was all alone.”

Gen clasped her hand. “You’re not alone. We’re here. We love you.”

Graves nodded. “We’re taking you home where you belong.”

“Good,” she whispered.

The spear rested across Graves’s lap, his hand holding it possessively as if he was afraid to let it out of his grasp. She could practically hear the things it was whispering in his ear.

“I should take that.”

Graves hesitated. As if he wasn’t sure that in her current condition it would be in her best interest. But the spear belonged to her. She’d stolen it. It had…claimed her. And anyway, they were far enough away from Lorcan now that she wasn’t going to turn around and kill him. Maybe.

Finally, Graves passed it to her.

“Hello, old friend,” it seemed to purr.

The second it was in her hands, the force of its own anger hit her. She closed her eyes against the rush. If she’d had this back in the Oak Throne, Lorcan would be dead. And she wouldn’t have regretted it, even if it had killed her.

When she opened her eyes, everyone was looking at her as if she were a bomb about to go off. There was no way to dissuade them of that opinion. She felt prepared to detonate at any moment.

“I know…you won’t ever forgive me,” Ethan continued slowly as if uncertain if now was the time. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”

She looked at him. “You did the right thing in the end.”

“I…did,” he agreed. “But I know it doesn’t make up for how I’ve been treating you.”

“Forget it,” Kierse said. “You’re here now.”

Gen grasped Ethan’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re one of us.”

Ethan squeezed back, though he looked like he wanted to say more. As if he had more atoning to do to fix what he’d broken. Once an altar boy, always an altar boy.

Kierse couldn’t deal with that right now. Anyone else’s guilt would have to wait until she could decide how to feel about what she’d just gone through. She was connected to Lorcan, bound by ritual magic, and could no longer access her magic.

When Lorcan had said that after the ceremony she’d be safe, she hadn’t thought to ask what that meant. Now she realized he meant that he would control her powers so Graves couldn’t get in. Lorcan would be in her head instead of Graves. He would be in control. Just how he wanted.

And she hated him for it. Even if she could admire the absolute gall to pull it off. Bastard.

Her eyes flicked up to Graves. She could see questions swirling in his tempest eyes. The fear he kept carefully locked away behind his anger. If he was barely masking it, then she must look as bad as she felt.

They crossed over the Williamsburg Bridge, and Kierse waited for the moment when the connection with Lorcan faded and folded away, as it always had since she’d returned to New York.

Except there was no dampening of the connection.

She could still feel Lorcan just as strongly as if he were standing directly in front of her.

She tried to seal it away and close herself off to the flood, but it was like having a live current in her chest. She had no way of flattening the electricity as it poured into her. There was nothing she could do.

As she clawed at that space in her chest to no avail, she broke down into tears once more.