“Will you humble me and accept my love, now and forever, Agnes Wright?” Graham carried on, ignoring everyone behind him.
“Of course,” I said, tears spilling over. “Of course, I will, you incredibly brave man. It’s always been you, Graham. I was just too scared to accept it.”
“You’ll never have to face anything alone again.” Graham rose and despite his recent near brush with death, lifted me into his arms. “I’m never going to leave you.”
And he crushed my mouth in a searing kiss, and despite my fear, despite the certainty that this wasn’t over yet, I gave over to the happiness that overflowed through me.
Because what was the point of this if we couldn’t have love? If we couldn’t celebrate the bright moments in the encroaching darkness?
“This calls for a party!” Lia clapped her hands and stood. “Brice! You’re needed. Champagne for everyone.”
There was a blur of movement, and then before I could blink, a champagne glass had appeared in my hand.
“But shouldn’t we…I don’t know, strategize more?” I looked around, feeling a touch guilty for brimming in happiness in the middle of all of this.
“I don’t believe we’ll get any further until we know why Isobel killed the Beithir. I think that will be the key that unlocks all of this,” Hilda said, and the room quieted at her words.
I stared at her.Of course.
“It’s the why. We need to knowwhyIsobel killed the original Beithir.”
“It just doesn’t track, does it? Centuries of service as Bookkeepers and then one goes rogue and kills a mythological beast? I’m not buying it, Agnes.” Hilda shook her head. “There’s more here.”
“So how do I find it? The Order’s recordsare incomplete. Quilliam doesn’t know. Nobody knows why Isobel did what she did.”
“Someone does,” Orla said softly. Everyone turned to look at her. She was staring at the wall, her hand pressed flat against the stone, her expression distant. “There’s a spirit. I’ve been sensing her since we arrived tonight. Just on the fringes of everything. She’s old. And she’s been trying to reach me ever since Agnes entered the castle.”
My heart stuttered. “Is it... could it be?—”
“I don’t know. She’s faint. Like she’s been waiting a very long time and doesn’t have much strength left. Almost like an imprint of a memory.” Orla’s eyes met mine. “But I think she knows you, Agnes. Or knows of you. She’s drawn to your presence.”
“Isobel,” I whispered. “It could be Isobel.”
“Maybe. Or maybe someone else from your line. Either way, she might have answers.”
“Can you reach her? Communicate with her?”
“I can try. But not here, not with all this chaos. I need quiet. Concentration.” Orla glanced around the crowded room. “And possibly one less ghost coo.”
Clyde barreled out of the wall, let out an offended bellow, which caused Faelan to jump and hold her hand to her heart.
“No offense, Clyde. You’re lovely, of course. You’re just very loud.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Sophie decided. “Tonight, we celebrate, all right? Matthew and Hilda can continue researching in the archives. And Agnes”—she fixed me with a look—“is going to let us help her instead of trying to carry this alone. Yes?”
“Aye,” I said, tugging on my left ear. I didn’t know if I could promise that.
The group broke up in smaller numbers, everyone talking over each other, as Brice raced around the room and filled champagne glasses.
“To love,” Sophie cried out, lifting her glass.
“Slàinte,” we all cried, and once more, tears spilled over. It felt like I’d cried more in a couple weeks than I had in years and once I’d taken the cork out, there was no holding back anymore.
“I love you, fiancée,” Graham said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“Fiancée.” I laughed. “That makes me even more twisted up inside than the word girlfriend does.”
“I hope in a good way.” Graham brushed a soft kiss across my lips.
