Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Maybe they should leave me at the castle to waste away into oblivion. To go to the grave with Aric.
Jack shook his head. “You can. You will. I read Domīnija’s letter to you. He believed the three of us would make it, and I do too.” Jack cupped my face in both his hands, brushing his thumbs over my damp cheeks. “Remember, bébé, together we can do anything.”
How many times had he told me that? In a way, he’d always been right. Could I rise with ten swords in my back? The first step was to make it to my knees. “I-I think I’m ready.”
“Ouais. Okay.” He hurried back to the wheel, then put the truck in drive, easing us toward the next chapter of our lives.
Good-bye, Aric. I love you so much.
I turned to keep the castle in sight until it disappeared like a fever dream. . . .
48
The Hunter
Day 152 N.D.
Evie and I stood arm in arm, Tee on her hip as we took in our new home.
We’d put the finishing touches on the main wing today, would live in it while we completed the rest.
“It’s incredible, Jack. I can’t believe Haven is back.” She took it all in—the proud manor, the twelve moss-covered oaks, the sea of cane in every direction.
Despite my studying and experience, even I was mighty surprised by how well the place had turned out. “Not bad if I do say so myself.” I’d even managed to source cream paint for the siding and green for the shutters. But we couldn’t have done it without the plans Domīnija had sent me.
“And we didn’t cut down a single tree,” she said proudly.
We didn’t need to since she could make a flawless board or a thick column with a wave of her hand. Hell, she could’ve constructed the entire thing, but I’d wanted to help.
So the two of us had done it together, using her vines to keep Tee’s crawling corralled and to hoist joists. We’d salvaged a lot from ruins in the area, but some things would never be the same. And that was okay. We’d stayed busy from dawn till dusk, which was good for both of us.
As we surveyed our work, I said, “Feel that southern breeze.” It brushed the cane, rippled the nearby river, and made the moss dance. That warm breeze smelled of the sea, of far-off places. It used to call to me. Not anymore. I never wanted to leave here again.
“I missed it.” Her gaze went distant, and she rubbed her locket. “Missed this place.”
The journey here had been uneventful, considering what we’d usually found out on the road. She and I took turns driving, and her powers were on point, so we kept the p’tee garçon protected.
Seriously, though, there was never a cooler kid than this one. He was currently tugging on a strand of Evie’s hair, amber eyes mischievous as he grinned at me. I grinned back.
Once the three of us had gotten closer to Louisiana and the danger dwindled, Evie’s grief had rebounded. Things were touch and go, worrying the living hell out of me.
Back here at Haven, she’d dug her hands into the rich soil. For a second, I’d wondered if she would answer that old call to surrender and plant her fingers like roots, going dormant.
For a second, Evie had looked like she’d wondered too.
In fact, she’d seemed surprised when she made the decision to release the earth and rise. She’d taken strength from the land that day, and a part of her had healed. She’d told me, It’s good to be home, Jack.
At the original site of Haven House, we’d found ashes from that fateful day when we’d burned down her home, her mère inside. We’d collected some and sited a cemetery on a rise overlooking the river. We buried her mom’s ashes and then Domīnija’s, each with an oak to mark their graves.
Was it enough closure? Didn’t know, me.
Maybe some hurts were so deep that closure just sank in like quicksand, a bandage eaten by the wound.
Jury’s still out.
Tee helped with the grief. And I hoped I did too, giving her as much time as she needed, even if that was forever.
It might come to that. Whenever she was thinking about Domīnija, she’d rub that locket. Eventually she’d wear the design down to nothing.
Sometimes I still picked up the phone to text him. I missed getting his take on things. Missed his sharp wit.
One day when this storm had blown over, I might show her the letter Death had left for me, the one I’d read and reread.
Maybe.
“Jack?”
I blinked to attention. “Ouais, bébé?”
She offered me her free hand and a hint of a smile. “Let’s head inside.”
The Empress
Day 157 N.D.
“Evie, viens ici! C’mere, quick!”
I hurried around the corner of the house, braced for trouble—a militia breaching my PEWS or a speed freeze approaching.