Ruby’s gaze drops to her nails, fingers flicking, and picking at one another until she is satisfied. When her gaze slants back to us, her eyes are a warm almond brown.

  "They did manage to catch one. They locked him up with the other two in the basement." She leans in close, despite Adrian's warning growl. "This house has a surprising amount of cellar space. Though, 'cellar' is just a nicer way of saying 'dungeon.'"

  I falter, stuck between confusion and stark memories of my recent imprisonment. Adrian’s fingers squeeze gently at my hip, and I release the breath I hold tight in my chest. "What others?” I ask.

  "One is a female, who, to my knowledge, was involved in that poisoning incident, and the other—" Ruby glances pointedly up at Adrian "—is a former colleague of yours, I believe."

  "They're here?" I blink in rapid succession, trying to wrap my mind around the revelation.

  "Oh, they're tucked away, safe and sound. They won't cause any trouble." Ruby's reassurance does not inspire solace.

  "It’s okay Luna," Adrian murmurs. "They won’t hurt you."

  I lean into Adrian’s side, taking comfort in his strong presence. Breathing deeply, I push away the niggling fears that accompany Ruby’s revelation and stand taller.

  "Now for the other news," Ruby announces, mimicking my posture.

  My body stiffens. "What other news?"

  Her beautiful smile dims. "It's about Jax."

  ++

  I cover the distance between the hallway and Jax's room in a daze. My fist knocks three at his door once I arrive. I wait no longer than a few seconds.

  "Come in."

  Ronan stands at the side of Jax's bed. My eyes flit between the two as I pause in the doorway.

  "Come in, gorgeous" Jax repeats, scooting himself into a higher seated position against the mountain of pillows behind him. Ronan rolls his eyes and places a hand on Jax's shoulder to keep him down. "That's unnecessary," Jax gripes, but he flops down regardless and without much struggle. In fact, he looks mildly grateful for the insistence.

  "You remember, Ronan, sweetheart, don't you?"

  "We met yesterday," Ronan acknowledges. "Briefly," he adds. I look over him properly as I step further inside. He is tall and lean, with a stern cut jaw that makes me think of Adrian. Ronan carries the shadow of stubble, not only on his face, but his scalp as well. Despite his put-together appearance, there is a youthfulness to his face that belies his age. I glance between the pair once more. Ronan might be a few years younger than Jax, but he holds himself with the poise of a man who keeps close company with danger. I catch Ronan’s eye.

  There is a sly cunning within his grey eyes, but also a humor that seems to dare me to play some game. I clear my throat when he winks at me and lift a hand in greeting.

  "Hello."

  "I suppose I can trust you to keep this man on his back?" My calceolas bloom in a flurry across my cheeks at the raven shifter's suggestive tone.

  Jax's eyebrows pinch together as he takes in my reaction. "Leave her be, she's far too good for the likes of you. Or me."

  Ronan lets loose a gaudy laugh. When he calms, he holds out a fist near Jax's hand. The sorcerer curls his knuckles and hoists his wrist to knock them against the other man's.

  "Later." Ronan produces a lazy smirk, "Try not to die."

  Jax's slouches back and scoffs. "I wouldn't dare disgrace myself by dying in bed. See you tomorrow."

  Ronan makes his way toward me and the door. "Lunaria," he scoops up my hand as I move to let him pass. Gentle lips ghost across the back of my hand. "I wish you well on your ventures with this one," amusement dances blatantly across his eyes.

  Before I can utter a response, the lithe man is gone. I wait until the door shuts to speak.

  "Your friend is very... unique."

  Jax's eye shutters momentarily. The grin he wears softens to a smile. "He is."

  I walk up to the bed, not wishing to disturb Jax but unable to help myself from staying away. The floor creaks with each step I take. Jax's eye opens. The hazel orb studies my approach with an intensity that unsettles me.

  I examine Jax as well, hoping to mask my discomfort. He's tucked underneath a bevy of blankets as if the duvet that covers the majority of the bed is not enough. Every throw blanket in the house seems to be piled on him. He's dressed in a thin, long sleeve black shirt that accentuates his pale, pale skin.

  "It's not as bad as it seems. I promise," Jax comments.

  A white bandage covers his eye today, rather than the eyepatch he wore yesterday.

  "What happened? Yesterday you were fine."

  "Just a smidge of magical backlash due to the blood magic."

  A thick lump forms in the back of my throat. "You're sick... because of me? My blood did this to you?"

  Jax's attempts to prop himself up at my distress, but I hurry to his side. Much like Ronan before me, I urge him back down, my touch far more considerate than the raven shifter.

  "Don't." He listens to my simple command, collapsing back into his pillows. Frustration flits across his face, drawing his lips downward and cheeks in.

  "The witch's blood would have had the same effect. Don't feel bad," Jax says.

  "What did the magical backlash do to you?" I pause, my nerves rising along with my uncertainty. "Did you take too much of my blood? Is that why? Or was it something else?"

  "Well," Jax elongates the word, amusement coloring the fine lines of his face. He peers at the ceiling, then moves his hands to rest upon his chest, where his fingers thread together. "Where to begin?" he asks himself. “The beginning I suppose…”

  I seat myself on the corner of the bed, wings gliding to overlap one another in a restful position. The innocent action draws Jax's regard and stretches the silence between us further.

  "After you left that night, I cast a spell to subdue the nature of Deval’s beast to help smooth his transition. However, it’s an incredibly taxing spell for the caster because it’s a form of possession—” Jax winces, “—which is, technically speaking, dark magic. And dark magic always comes with repercussions sooner or later. That’s why I needed your blood; to help strengthen what was left of my magic and perform the spell.”

  “Dark magic?” I question quietly.

  Jax nods guiltily. “Possession spells touch and manipulate the very core of another being. They’re a slight against nature. Good intentions aside, to forcibly contain and calm Deval’s inner wolf was still done with dark magic. And then I cast the spell again.”

  “Oh, Jax, why?”

  “To subdue the beastly spirit of the vampyré,” he explains. “When a transformation like this occurs, both natures fight for dominance. If they aren’t balanced correctly, one will smother the other out of existence, and, in turn, smother the person transitioning out of existence.” Jax casts his gaze to the ceiling. “Hence, the magical backlash. I passed out sometime close to lunch, with all my energy suddenly zapped. Apparently, I missed a rather delicious sandwich platter."

  I can only manage a small whimper of pity as I stare at Jax’s fatigued form. The smile he summons errs on the side of a grimace. I weakly return the gesture.

  "How did you come to learn this dark spell in the first place?"

  Jax lets out a strangled cough, a flush crawling up his face as he keeps his regard fixed on the ceiling.

  "Word gets around," he offers casually. "I picked up little bits here and there. Theories. Arguments. A doctrine or two. Sorcerers enjoy seeking out knowledge and the unknown, and so my curious mind put two and two together eventually. A test here and a test there to see if I was right." His voice sobers. "Irina was lucky that what I cast didn't kill her. Sheer strength of will and her soulmark ensured her survival—I don’t know if the spells I performed helped substantially or not."

  The bed groans as I shift my weight. "Do you think Deval will survive?"

  Agonizing seconds pass.

  "There's no telling, unfortunately. I’m sorry, gorgeous."

  I train my sight on my lap as Jax looks back at me to deliver the news. He nudges me with his toes until I meet his eye.

  "Thank you," I say. "Thank you for trying to save him even though it…" My violet eyes slide up and down his body.

  "Left me bedridden?"

  I duck my head. A false laugh rasping past my lips. "Yes. That."

  "Don't go blaming yourself. I don't want to hear anything close to, 'it's my fault,' come out of your mouth. Do you understand? You want to point the blame at someone? Point it at the cowards who've mutilated their own traditions for the sake of their pride and power. Those wolves..." Jax glowers. His neck flexes and strains as the air in the room spikes with the smell of something pungent and bitter as a surge of static electricity snaps across the blankets.

  My eyes enlarge as my senses tingle. A disturbing energy permeates the air, and I can't help but feel as if it's homing in on us. "Jax?"

  He persists, unaware of my soft query or the room's agitation. "They preach of tradition and legacy, but they wouldn't know the true meaning of either if it smacked them in the face. Neither of those two practices should ever keep a group of people from moving forward and achieving greater things for their communities—"

  "Jax."

  Heat arcs through the air and dries out my mouth. It leaves a spoiled acidic taste on the back of my tongue. Adrian's worry reaches out to me.

  Something is wrong.

  "Traditions are meant to honor and celebrate the values of the people." Jax argues to the air. "They're not supposed to suffocate. They're not there to build off the labor and toil of those weakest in the pack."

  "Jax!" I jump from the bed, hair lifting with the amount of static electricity in the air. Deep in my bones I fear an attack from somewhere out of view, but the strike never comes. I peek at Jax. His hazel eye is dilated and a short pant falls from his mouth. I hear footsteps rushing up the stairs and feel the heavy press of Adrian’s concern. I rush to meet his urgent feelings with one of reassurance.

  "I—" Somehow, Jax manages to prop himself on his forearm, the motion draining what little color his anger produced from his body. He flops back down with a clenched jaw and slaps a hand over the right side of his face. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. I'm just... I'm all too familiar with these types of cowards in the Dark Court. And to be completely frank, I fear the outcome of this war. If the Wselfwulfs win the repercussions will last centuries. Not to mention what will happen to the people here, and not just the pack or coven but this town. You and your friends."

  I’m acutely aware of the footfall coming to stop outside the door, and race to calm my nerves. With a measured breath, I gather my composure and approach Jax’s side.

  We contemplate one another. The crazed power of the room evaporates as swiftly as it came. I reach out and place my hand on Jax’s chest.

  "They won't win," I proclaim.

  Although still shaken from the evils we suffered at the hands of the Wselfwulfs and Stormrows, I refuse to allow them another victory or advantage. And self-doubt will forever be the greatest advantage you can give your opponent.

  "They're willing to sacrifice everything to win, even their own, gorgeous. Don't underestimate them," Jax warns.

  "I know just as well as you what lengths they're willing to go to," I retort, chin striking upward.

  Calceolas bloom across my body, the vibrant red petals unfurling to their full extent. Patches of wildflowers native to this realm join them. Blue elderberry flowers encircle my wrists. Clusters of Tapper's Tea create a wreath across my upper chest and back, out of sight but pestering my mind as their stamens tickle the delicate skin there.

  I inhale, chest expanding with the motion. "I also know their pack is divided, Jax. I stared into the eyes of countless men and women and saw their hatred for the life they lived. I saw their sorrow and suffering. They're forced to live that life."

  Jax's hand falls away from his face to pitch me a pleading look, but it stalls as he stops to study me. "You may be right, sweetheart," he replies, voice velvet and quiet, "but I don't see what difference it makes. They'll never be strong enough to break past their alphas’ command. They’ll be forced to fight against us whether they like it or not."

  "It does matter." I punctuate the declaration with a stomp of my foot. "Are you forgetting what happened at the Blancs? The curse wasn't the only thing broken that night. Atticus and Winter overruled the alphas of another pack. The Wselfwulfs can't possibly prevail if the same happens. Xander is strong," I insist, my speech making me stand taller. "There doesn't need to be bloodshed at all if he can just—"

  My features lurch into a frown as I struggle to apprehend the appropriate words. Even my hands falter, jutting forward with emphasis only to stop mid-stretch.

  A faint smile brightens Jax's face.

  "Your optimism is admirable, sweetheart, and your argument isn't bad either, but you're forgetting one thing; the Stormrows."

  I deflate, the bouquet of flowers covering my body receding to their normal, modest gathering. "Why are they helping them? The coven I understand. Zoelle and Xander's union is the binding factor of their alliance, but what do the Stormrows gain?"

  "Sorcerers are an inherently curious breed," Jax says, repositioning himself to a more manageable and higher seated position. He crooks a finger and points to the small length of space by his hip. I sit, but with my wings fluttering behind me to keep my weight off the bed. Jax watches with wonder.

  "As are fairies."

  He smirks, his attention returning to me. "I gathered. You're full of questions. Sorcerers are too. We thirst for knowledge and live to test the limits of the universe. We're also devilishly handsome and notoriously arrogant." Despite lacking an eye, Jax's wink does not lose its appeal. Warmth pools in my cheeks. I place a hand over his and curl my fingers into his palm.

  "That doesn't explain why they're helping the Wselfwulfs."

  "Oh, I'm positive they are being generously compensated for their work. Though, I imagine there’s more to it than that." Jax lapses into a contemplative silence.

  "You used to be part of their clan, right?“ He nods. “What were they like?"

  "Ah, I was never really one of them, sweetheart. Jakob planted me there as a spy. He'd been looking for something for a very long time, a ring, and in a roundabout fashion, he wanted to secure it through them. Jakob is a man with deep pockets, so the cost was worth it. I was part of the clan for several years and when I left... it wasn't on the best terms."

  I swallow, remembering all too well the brief encounters I witnessed between Jax and his former clan. "What happened?"

  Jax delivers a smug smirk, but it doesn't reach his eye. "I stole from them. Books. Artifacts. Their secrets. Their Gods. I ended up blinding one of them in my escape, and the Stormrows, they believe in the adage, 'an eye for an eye.' This—" he points to the missing organ on his face "—was just their way of cashing in on their much-awaited revenge. I suppose they'd be happy to see me now, bedridden and abandoned by my patrons." Jax produces a choked laugh. “And on top of all that I'm now without half my soul because the Moon Goddess saw fit to give me a 'gift' for my part in removing the lycan curse. Half of my soul... gone. Unbelievable.”

  My heart skips a beat. "You speak of your soulmark?" I glance at his right arm where I know the mark to be. "May I... see it?

  "No." His curt reply makes me flinch. "No," Jax repeats with far more tenderness. "It's not worth it, sweetheart. I don't plan on acting on it."

  "But—"

  A wry smile splits across his face as he twists his head back and forth.

  "But what? There’s a person out there with the other half of my soul? Someone perfect for me?" He snorts. "I was whole before," he says. "I didn't need anyone to 'complete' me, and now I can feel it. The part of me that was taken." A bitter chuckle escapes Jax as he pulls his hand from mine and rests it across his abdomen. "The universe is determined to take me apart, piece by piece, or so it would seem."

  I struggle to find the right words to say. Folding my arms around my middle as I contemplate how to navigate the subject. I lick my lips and lock gazes with Jax.

  "From what I've seen, the soulmark is a revered gift. One that brings out the best in a person and offers strength to the couple. The experience is more wonderful than you can imagine if you just keep your heart open."

  "I see," he muses, "and is that how it is with your heart's content?”

  My lips part, but not a word comes out of my mouth. A creak sounds from outside, reminding me of Adrian’s hovering presence. My pulse picks up its pace.

  “It is different with Adrian and I. A heart’s content is not so… relentless, in its early stages of binding, nor do we share one soul. But we are a perfect match. A perfect complement to each other in temperament and strength."

  "Is that so?" he murmurs.

  I brush a strand of hair behind my ear as the fluttering of my wings slows and I settle in my seat. "He is, ‘ov thera,’” I confess, a blush climbing up my neck at the admittance. “It means, ‘my heart,’ in the old language of my realm.”

  "I suppose that doesn't sound so bad," Jax says with a teasing lilt. "Though, he's a bit much for my taste and entirely too surly.” I clasp a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh, glancing at the door when I think I hear a noise akin to a growl. Jax smirks, eyeing the door with mischief before sobering as he glances back at me. “But it’s clear as day you replace the sun and the moon in his eyes."

  "I do?" I ask, fingers plucking at the loose threads of the topmost blanket draped over the bed. Tender affection floods the connection between Adrian and I, the answer wordlessly given.

  "Yes." Jax rolls his eyes. "It's incredibly annoying to be growled at every time I so much as look at you." This time I release my laughter. "Now, I don’t mean to be rude, gorgeous, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I need all the rest I can get if I’m going to fight in this war.”

  I shoot off the bed, quick to accommodate his request with a happy smile in place. “You’re really going to stay and fight?”

 

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