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Chapter twenty-three

Jade

A s dungeons go, this is a pretty nice one. Not that I have any actual experience of dungeons outside of films and books, but still. This one isn’t damp or unreasonably cold. The rough-hewn stone walls are clean. I haven’t seen any spiders or rats.

All in all, things could be a lot worse.

My laugh echoes around. Look at me, finally looking on the bright side instead of being a negative nelly. It seems Flyn really is bringing out the best in me.

My gaze goes to the heavy wooden door that leads to the stairs and the exit. I’m glad I finally got Flyn to go out for some fresh air. I feel guilty for lying about wanting a nap, even though it is for his benefit.

I can survive down here for a couple of hours by myself.

The double bed is comfy. The boys found a nice circular rug that covers most of the floor.

It’s a shame the TV can’t pick up any signal or Wi-Fi, but Pink is hunting for a DVD player and some DVDs.

In the meantime, there is a stack of books and a mountain of snacks.

It’s fine, it really is. Goddess knows I’ve dealt with worse in my life. For all its lack of finery, I’d much rather be here than in the penthouse Ritchie kept us imprisoned in.

I take in a deep breath. I’m glad I’m feeling okay now. The little wobble I had as we swept down the drive of Monty’s estate, was as unexpected as it was unpleasant. The frantic beating of my heart is not something I want to experience again .

I was born and raised on an estate like this. An earl’s experiment and hobby. Like breeding horses or dogs. But that’s no reason for me to get hysterical.

My childhood wasn’t that terrible. I wasn’t alone. We weren’t experimented on or tortured. We were given an education. Fed well and taken care of.

I got to do teenage things, like fool around with boys and steal cars.

So what if I was never loved? Or was never free? Thousands of people have loveless childhoods. It doesn’t make me special.

Being sold to Ritchie was spectacularly shitty, but I’m not alone in that either. The boys went through that with me.

Life has been unfair, but I’m not alone. I have a found family. I have Flyn.

A wide, stupid grin spreads across my face. Just as I’m trying to fight it, I hear soft footsteps on the stairs. I’m pretty sure it’s Flyn, tiptoeing down to see if I’m awake.

I sit up a little straighter, smoothing the blanket across my lap like I haven’t just been grinning at the memory of his smile. No use letting him know he has that effect on me. He’s smug enough already.

The old lock clicks, and the door creaks open just enough to let in a sliver of golden light.

I blink, eyes adjusting from the dim lighting of the dungeon.

And then there he is, Flyn, all tousled hair and sunshine, balancing a tray with two mugs and something that smells suspiciously like ginger biscuits.

He catches me looking and flashes a grin. “Knew you were faking.”

“I wasn’t faking,” I say, sitting back against the headboard. “I was simply… meditating.”

“Sure.” He shuts the door behind him with a gentle thud and pads across the room, his trainers silent on the rug. “Because nothing says ‘deep spiritual practice’ like fake snoring for ten minutes and then sighing like you’re in a Jane Austen adaptation. ”

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch. “You’re very mouthy for someone who wants to be let into my magical panic bunker.”

He places the tray on the side table and hands me one of the mugs. Earl Grey Tea. Of course it is. He’s gone full British countryside already.

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring you kale.”

“I’d hex it.”

He gives me a mock-wounded look and settles at the foot of the bed, legs folded beneath him.

For a moment, it’s quiet between us. Warm.

Comfortable. I sip the tea and watch him from under my lashes.

He’s trying not to fuss, but I can see the tension around his eyes.

I can see it in the way he keeps sneaking glances at the glowing runes that pulse faintly along the far wall.

I don’t think he can see them, but some part of him clearly senses something.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I am. Better, actually. The wards are working. I feel... clearer.”

It’s true. There’s a heaviness that’s lifted.

A heaviness I didn’t even realize was there until it was gone.

Now I don’t feel that creeping static under my skin, or the whispering at the edges of my thoughts.

The dungeon’s enchantments are doing their job.

Keeping me grounded, present. Keeping them out.

Flyn lets out a soft breath, as if he’s been holding it for hours. Maybe he has. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along my wrist, light and careful. “I hate that you have to be down here.”

“I don’t,” I say quietly. “I’d rather be safe than risk hurting any of you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you. ” His voice is steady, and it hits me in the chest harder than I expect. “Jade, whatever’s happening, whatever magic’s inside you, it’s yours. Not theirs. Not the people who used you. Not the ones who want to use you now. You don’t belong to anyone.”

The words are warm. Kind. They make something inside me ache. Because I want to believe him. I really do.

“I’m trying,” I whisper.

“I know.”

He leans forward, brushing his forehead against mine for a heartbeat. The contact is grounding, real, human. Not magic. Just us.

“I brought Paddington,” he says after a moment, reaching into the tote bag I hadn’t noticed slung over his shoulder. “Thought it might soothe your savage inner beast.”

“Paddington?”

“Look, don’t knock it. That bear has emotionally wrecked harder men than you and me,” he says as he proudly holds the DVD aloft.

I chuckle, and he beams like he’s just won something.

“And Pink found a DVD player, so we are all set!”

He grins at me and then gets to work battling cables and hooking up the DVD player to the TV. Watching him work is filling my chest with a warm glow.

He presses a button on the remote and when the TV displays the DVD screensaver, he lets out a whoop of satisfaction. Then he jumps onto the bed, hard enough to make it bounce, and very nearly hard enough to spill my tea.

We curl up together on the bed, not quite touching but close enough to share warmth. We watch in silence, the kind that doesn’t need filling. Flyn nibbles on biscuits. I sip tea that seems like the best tea I’ve ever had.

But even through the comfort, I feel it.

A shift.

A tug.

Like something inside me is stretching awake .

The air chills, the faintest ripple of pressure brushing against the wards. The runes on the wall pulse once, brighter, sharper… and then settle again.

Flyn sits up straighter. “What was that?”

“Something testing the wards,” I murmur. “It didn’t get in.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m still me.” I turn my head toward him, and I see it in his face, that flash of fear he tries to hide behind concern. “I promise.”

He nods, but I know the tension hasn’t left him. It hasn’t left me either.

I press a hand to the center of my chest. I swear the magic in me is growing. My dormant fey blood is stirring, and I’m not sure if this dungeon can make my fey side stay asleep. And I don’t know what will be left when it wakes up.

I swallow. I think I can fight the fey, with the help of this dungeon.

But I’m not so sure if I can fight the fey and stay the same.

The fey are malicious. They might call to my blood, awaken my ancestry, simply because they can, and because I’m not bending to their will.

Spite and cruelty run just as thick as blood in their veins.

I can feel it under my own skin. I’ve always been able to.

“What if I’m not the same after this?” I say softly.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches me, eyes serious.

“Then I’ll learn the new you,” he says eventually. “I’m not here for the version you think I want. I’m here for you. All of it.”

I swallow. My throat is too tight for words.

Outside, the wind shifts. Inside, the lights flicker. The magic holding this place together hums a little louder, a little stronger. I can feel the fey pressing against the veil. They want me. They want access. But they don’t have me. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I don’t want to be a doorway,” I whisper.

“Then don’t be.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is. But you get to choose. That’s what’s been stolen from you, isn’t it? Choice? ”

My eyes sting, but I don’t look away.

“Well,” Flyn says, leaning back against the headboard beside me. “Take it back.”

The runes on the wall flicker softly. Not wild or ominous this time, just pulsing like a heartbeat. My heartbeat.

Take it back. Oh goddess, how I want to. Take back my power. My agency. My sense of self. Take back everything Ritchie stole from me.

“I’m trying,” I say again. “I’m scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

I smile faintly. “Paddington helps.”

“Paddington always helps.”

We sit like that for a long time. The movie ends. The silence settles in. He stays with me until my eyes grow heavy, and I let myself drift, his hand wrapped around mine like an anchor.

If I’m going to make it through this, if I’m going to stay myself, it’ll be because of moments like this. Because of him. Because of my friends.

Because I am not a tool. I am not a weapon. I am not a door.

I am Jade. And for once in my life… I think I might be worth saving.