I needed an outlet for my emotions. Ian had provided me with just that opening.
He’s not to blame, I told myself. He’s fallen under her spell. Just like all other Daughters, she has the power to manipulate others, whether she has magic or not. He can’t help it.
Over and over, I chanted reasons to keep myself in check. But it wasn’t working. I felt the fire licking higher, my chest straining to contain the anger. My hands clenched, and I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to smash my fists into his face.
But then Brydie moved. A restless twist of her limbs, a murmur of disquiet. That small sound of distress broke that tense moment of taut anticipation, brought reality crashing back in. It was a moment I needed—a reminder to reign in my emotions, to slather on the control.
I took a breath, calming myself before demanding in a low voice, “Leave us. Before I do something you’ll regret.”
Without a word of argument, Ian turned for the door that led to the kitchen. He knew what edge I stood upon. Knew not to push me over it.
Ian’s withdrawal stilled the disquiet in my limbs, banked the anger that hankered for an outlet. And in the silence of his absence, I finally admitted to myself that he was right. That I was angry with Nora, and especially at Reuben. My own blood had lied to me, denied me knowledge of my protégé—the last surviving Daughter of Winter.
Stupid. They’d been fucking stupid.
They should have known that nothing and nobody could outrun prophecy. Should have understood that it threw curve balls we could never see coming. That it twisted everyone inside and out in order to meet its demands. The goddess Cailleach had known what she asked of them and hadn’t cared, so long as her bloodline survived.
I gritted my teeth. It was just as well that Cailleach’s mission, and those of our people, were aligned. As Druids, we maintained the balance in the world, ensuring both sides of good and evil remained equal. But those scales had been tipped over two thousand years ago, and the balance had steadily skewed as time went on. Now, it weighed heavily in favor of evil, and too many of our people were turning to its dark lure of power. The only saving grace was that fulfilling Cailleach’s prophecy balanced the scales of nature, and the Druid factions therefore supported our cause. However, as we’d just found out after Nora died, that support only stretched so far. Our own faction, The Oaken Tree, hadn’t been willing to extend themselves to help me retrieve the last surviving Daughter of Winter. No—that risk was mine alone to carry.
I frowned as my gaze wandered over Brydie’s form. The light from the small desk lamp illuminated her face in a soft amber glow, but it didn’t hide the paleness of her skin or the tension that bracketed her mouth.
Even in sleep, she looked hunted.
I was her Guardian. But the role hadn’t been chosen—it had been prophesied. And due to bloodlines and a twist of fate, I was her sole protector. Her only shield against the coming darkness.
My hands clenched on the armrests of my chair as I noted the dirt and grass stains on her clothing. They were testament to the near-catastrophic event that had occurred an hour before.
The last seven days had been harrowing. She’d been threatened three times since I found her. All by Talorgan’s minions. First, in a nightclub with her best friend; second, when her ex-fiancé tried to kill her; and third, by the security guard at Edinburgh Airport.
The guard had been lightning quick, too quick for me to notice that she’d attached the bomb to Brydie’s suitcase before we left the airport. I should have known she’d planted something, should have felt it. But I was exhausted. Still blindsided by Nora’s confession that another Daughter of Winter existed—her granddaughter, ignorant of her heritage, and at the bottom of the world in New Zealand.
It was a race against time to reach Brydie first. Before Talorgan found her. There was no time to sleep, no time to pack. After enforcing the wards around the Estate, I’d left there and then, leaving Nora’s transition to the Other with McKenzie. My hands rubbed absently against my chest, remembering the tear of the hell hound’s claws through my skin. I’d grabbed an hour’s sleep on the first leg of the journey to New Zealand before managing to coax a tendril of my water magic to heal my wounds. Another hour of sleep later, and they were sealed completely.
The trip to New Zealand was filled with tension. A race to find Nora’s granddaughter. It tested the limits of my self-control and my magic. As I mulled over the last week, I knew I was teetering on the edge of burnout. I could taste the iron in my mouth, a faint tang that had been ever-present since I healed Brydie after the explosion.
The only thing holding me together was the fact that tomorrow we would arrive at the Estate. Tomorrow, I could entrust her safety to those enchanted walls and finally find the time to rest and recuperate.
But there wouldn’t be much time for that. I would need to train her, help her call forth her magic. It sounded simple enough, but I wasn’t naive; the task would be difficult because no other Druid in the history of our people had ever been able to manifest their magic after they’d reached puberty. It usually happened before we turned thirteen, certainly no later than sixteen. Given Brydie was twenty-one, the odds were against us.
But prophecy often went outside the boundaries of what was possible, and if she was of Nora’s blood, and by descent, Cailleach’s, then it was highly possible her magic was there. It would just need the right coaxing to come forth.
That would be only the first step of many to overcome, for she was the last surviving Daughter of Winter. The final shield against the coming darkness.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, cutting my musing short. I swept my eyes to the door that connected the living room to the kitchen. Ian’s form was illuminated in the doorway. I didn’t offer a greeting, I merely waited.
He didn’t beat around the bush, speaking through the yawn that stretched across his features. “Dawn isn’t far off. You should get some rest. I can watch over her for a few hours.”
At first, I was surprised. But a glance at the clock behind his shoulder confirmed that I’d been sitting there with her for six hours. My first instinct was to shut him down. The Daughter of Winter was my protégé alone. No one else but I could keep her safe, not even another descendant of the prophecy.
But I could feel my reserves smoldering weakly, that ember of my power almost completely burned out. A burnout wasn’t welcome at any point, but especially not when I still needed to get Brydie to the safety of the Estate. A few hours of sleep would replenish the well of my power, give us enough of a buffer to fight against whatever threat might be posed on the journey there. Talorgan would have taken another hit when I killed the security guard, but it wouldn’t keep him down for long. He’d be back; the only question was when.
“Fine,” I replied to Ian. “I’ll take two hours. The wards will hold for another four. If she wakes, don’t let her leave the house, and don’t let her out of your sight. Rouse me if there’s a problem.”
Ian gave a curt nod in response, not questioning my demands, accepting them for what they were—the last Daughter of Winter’s best chance at survival.