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I’d been dreaming of this place for years. Long before the wards began to weaken. Long before I passed the prophesized age of transference. It happened for the first time . . .
“My eighteenth birthday,” I muttered.
“What?” Caius stood at my side, turning to face me.
“I’ve been dreaming about this place since my eighteenth birthday,” I said a little louder, clearing my throat.
“I don’t understand,” he said, glancing back at the mountain. “This is what you were talking about? You dreamed ofthiscastle?”
I bobbed my head, numb from the shock that still hadn’t faded.
The longing to be here. The sense of completion and fulfillment. I thought it was Washington calling to me. That maybe I was meant to go live with my cousin and see what fate had in store for me there, only it wasn’t Washington. It was Tartarus. This castle.Him.
“The day I turned eighteen,” I began, swallowing thickly. “I dreamed of this place. I dreamed of you. You were the shadow. I couldn’t see your face. But this . . .” I gestured to the castle in the distance. “I saw this every night, and it felt like ...”
My own words echoed in my mind.
Dreaming of it. Painting it. It felt like home.
I’d been dreaming of Caius for almost ten years. The nameless, faceless man wasn’t merely an aspiration; I was dreaming of the man I would take as my mate.
A stuttered breath escaped me as my thoughts were flooded with a memory I’d long forgotten.
“Reagan, what’s the matter?” he asked, coming to stand in front of me, his eyes focused and his brows furrowed. Cupping my face, he tried to assess what was happening. “Reagan, talk to me.”
I stared blankly, losing my focus on his face, and only seeing the past flash before my eyes.
I watched through an open window of a chapel, unseen and unheard. A young version of myself sat on a chair, swinging her legs back and forth, just as Jo often did. This was before Jo was born. Before my home in The Crossroads.
“Something is wrong, Elda.”
“What do you mean?” my keeper whispered.
The seer murmured, “Her future is shrouded by shadows.”
“You can’t see her future?” Elda said in a hushed tone. “Has that ever happened before?”
“No,” the seer said, lifting a boney hand to run over her jaw in thought. “I’ve been alive a long time. I carry the knowledge of all seers charged before me and I’ve cared for four generations of guardians. Whatever powers her parents passed to her are far greater than anything I’ve seen. Either you’ve put a cloak on her or. . .” She looked at Elda for confirmation, but Elda shook her head. “That’s what I feared.”
“Or?”
“She has a mate bond, and it’s already protecting her.”
“That’s not even possible,” Elda scoffed. “She’s ten. She doesn’t have a mate. Shecan’t. Her half soul is grafted to the Soulless One. Perhaps it’s him you see.”
The seer shook her head. “I’ve read the future of every girl before her, and they were all the same. Death. Not shadow. This isn’t some faceless god, Elda. It’s a shadow of a mate bond that is powerful and transcends time.” The old woman tutted. “She is not yet mated, but that doesn’t mean fate has not yet determined her mate. Whoever she is destined to be with, they are more powerful than we can imagine if the bond is reaching out to protect her already. If they find her—if they findus—I don’t need to be a seer to tell you what will happen.”
“What do we do?” Elda asked, looking at the younger Reagan. She appeared distracted, but it was obvious she was listening to every word they said, and it scared her.
“We bind her from feeling the bond and pray to the gods it works.” Both women nodded.
“Reagan,” Elda said, kneeling down in front of the little girl. “We need to put a spell on you to keep you safe from someone that might want to hurt you or take you away from us.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to hurt ...”
“We don’t want that either. Can you stay still?”
Little Reagan whimpered but agreed.
