He left her then and found Finnegan in the corridor, who fell into step beside Reagan as they made their way to the infirmary.
“What are you going to do?” Finn asked.
“We need more information,” Reagan answered. “And the best spies are—”
“Not about the Order,” Finn corrected, and Reagan took a long moment to respond.
They reached the glass window of the infirmary ward and paused before entering.
Inside, they found both sisters sitting on either side of their father’s bed. Soft, russet curls fell over Jane’s shoulders as she murmured something. Joy seemed to answer in that eased way she reserved for her sister.
Clearly, Jane provided some manner of calm for her. And for him, too.
“I’m still thinking,” Reagan said. He didn’t want to pressure her into this decision, especially since she was navigating too many uncertainties already.
His mother would have told him to speak up, to not draw out the inevitable. She had been plainspoken, unwilling to waste time or words. Reagan had inherited that directness, but thiswas different. Not everything could be practical; some things required tact and patience.
There was also the matter of Jane’s state of mind, which he should have considered sooner. Instead, he’d only realised it when he saw her panicking in the corridor, pale as death, shaking in a way that shouldn’t have surprised him.
She had grown up in a quiet human town, surrounded by simpletons and little violence. The violence she’d endured must have struck deeper than she let on.
He should have known. She had never faced pain like that before.
It drove his rage in a way that made Reagan wish he could break the Scions all over again. And be more thorough, Varian included.
He’d managed to set aside the murderous urge yesterday while they danced. Only years of learning to compartmentalise allowed him to set his own impulses aside and be there for her. Still, he’d downed an entire bottle to fall asleep.
Jane looked centred now, her panic well tucked away.
“You’re vibrating so much you’re going to shake the entire floor,” Finnegan muttered as they stood outside. “Should I go in alone?”
“You sound just like your uncles,” Reagan replied dryly.
Finnegan scowled. The mere comparison to them was enough to rile him, and the reaction almost amused Reagan enough to improve his mood.
“If you’re going to be a dick…” Reagan said, reining in the pulse of power curling under his skin. “Satisfied?”
It helped that Finn’s steadiness was contagious, enough to temper even the most volatile people. It was what made him an exceptional emissary, so collected that it was difficult to believe he came from that family.
“It may shock you, but I wasn’t trying to be a dick,” Finnegan said. “If you walk in there like this, you might unsettle the younger sister.”
“Are you still worried about her?” Reagan asked, deflecting. “Elaith thinks she’ll learn to control it soon enough.”
Finn shot him a sidelong glance, his mouth twisting. “Perhaps we shouldn’t only be helping her control it but understand why it happens like that.”
It wasn’t the first time Reagan had wondered why Joy could access such levels while Jane barely touched hers. Several theories crossed his mind, the most likely being that those cursed rings had suppressed their power for so long they’d lost all sensitivity to it. But while Joy’s lack of control left her unable to manage the raw power she could wield, Jane seemed to sever contact entirely, too guarded and cautious.
He thought he felt her power when she was the most untroubled, when it was clear she wasn’t trapped in her own head. Those moments usually came when he laid her on her back, had her calling his name again and again as he buried himself in her. Of course, those moments left him paying little attention to that particular aspect of her access.
If she had come to his chambers last night, he might have felt it again. But Barracus had sent word that his prick of a cousin had been wandering near the Hall’s outpost after the short staff meeting. Varian had needed to be escorted out. Reagan wished he could flay his cousin alive and steal back the hours he’d ruined. Hours Reagan could have spent trying to sense Jane’s access again.
His blood thrummed at the thought, the image of her naked in his bed, the expression on her face when he touched her, the fierce furrow of her brows, the taste of her.Curses, the taste of her…
Finn took a wide step sideways, grimacing. “I don’t want to know what the fuck I just felt, but keep it to yourself.”
Reagan rubbed his fingers over his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was last night’s fault.
“You don’t want to know,” he muttered, and Finnegan scowled. “Come on.”
