She was silent for a moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
“For what?”
“For waiting. For being stubborn enough to stick around even when I made it seem like I didn’t want you.”
“Agnes.” I tilted her chin up so she was looking at me, even though from her comment, I knew she saw me. “There was never any question of giving up. There was never going to be anyone else. You were it for me from the moment we met.”
She tucked her head back under my chin, and her body relaxed against mine. Beyond our doors, the castle was quiet. Everyone had retreated to their own rooms, theirown partners, and to their own private moments of connection in the midst of chaos.
Tomorrow, we’d face the curse again and everything might change.
But tonight, I had her in my arms. Safe.Mine.
And that was enough.
For now, that was everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AGNES
Graham snored softly beside me, one arm thrown behind his head, his face slack with deep sleep that came from complete exhaustion. I watched the rise and fall of his chest for a long moment, counting his breaths like seconds counting down on a clock, and reassured myself that he was safe. For now.
My fiancé. The word still felt strange in my mind, too bright and hopeful for the darkness that surrounded us.
But now, in the quiet hours of the night, the fear crept back in. The curse was still there and the Beithir was still waiting. I was no closer to finding an answer that would save Graham, save us, and save Loren Brae.
Gran’s ring warmed on my finger and, idly, I twisted it. Now that I thought about it, the ring had been warm since I’d pulled Graham from the water, a constant low heat thatI’d chalked up to being some woo-woo Gran sent from the other side. Like she was looking out for me. But was it something else? Was she trying to communicate with me somehow? At this point, anything was possible.
It was also highly possible I was grasping at straws and reading meaning into anything and everything since I was desperate for a clue of some sort. Either way, I wasn’t going to sleep, not with my thoughts pinging around like the balls in a lottery machine. The only answer for this was to take decisive, forward motion.
I slipped out from under his arm, moving slowly. He stirred but didn’t wake, making a soft sound and rolling onto his side, reaching for the warm spot I’d left behind. Holding my breath, I waited to see if he would notice I was gone, but soon his breathing deepened once again.
Dressing quickly in the dark, I pulled a jumper over my head and slid my feet into my shoes, before grabbing Gran’s pen from my purse and slipping from the room into the dimly lit hallway. I’d always loved the moodiness of MacAlpine Castle, and I’d appreciated that they’d kept the wall sconces that lined the old stone hallways as torches even though they were wired now for modern day electricity. Still, the ambience felt the same as I hustled toward the archives room.
The answer had to be there.
It was the only thing that made sense.
And as someone who had long turned to books for both solace and joy, there was no reason that these books wouldn’t hold the answers I now sought.
Frankly, they had to.
Gran’s ring pulsed with heat as I walked, growingwarmer as I descended the stairs toward the basement. I curled my hand into a tight fist, knowing now that I hadn’t been imagining it, and wondered what Gran was trying to tell me. Or if it was even her. Maybe this was just some weird manifestation of my powers that I didn’t fully understand yet.
Either way, I was listening.
“I’m listening now,” I murmured, bringing the ring to my lips and giving it a kiss. “Show me what you need me to see.”
The heavy oak door groaned when I pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty corridor like a complaint. I flipped on the lamp in the corner, but left the overhead lights off, needing the cozy vibes it brought.
“There she is.”
“Och.” I held my hand to my heart as Quilliam fluttered over and landed on the table, tilting his head at me. His eyes gleamed in the light. “Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
“Book wyrms don’t require sleep the same way humans do,” he said, his voice sliding into my mind with its usual smoky warmth.“We rest, but we remain aware. It’s a survival mechanism, as it’s hard to eat a creature that’s always watching.”
