For what could’ve been…
Bronwyn was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when the shower cut off. She listened to see if Elias would search her out. As she hung up the hand towel, the bathroom door creaked as it opened. She heard the soft tread of feet as he moved away. A few moments later, she picked up the sound of a door opening and closing.
It was what she wanted. She’d known it would hurt to cut him out of her life, but that didn’t mean it was easy. The only thing that kept her on her current path was that people could say that she hadn’t taken others down with her when they looked at her life and talked about her poor choices.
Bronwyn made herself more tea, determined to put Elias out of her mind. She wanted to finish her project today. Sydney would likely be back later tonight, and she hoped the author would approve the cover before then. That meant she had to get to work immediately.
Cup in hand, Bronwyn returned to the parlor. She made the bed, trying not to think about Elias lying next to her on it—or the pleasure they’d found in each other’s arms. Then she sat in the chair and reached for her laptop. She opened it and took a sip of tea.
“Now, then,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get to work.”
London
Ferne didn’t look away from the group of Druids. They liked to think of themselves as elders, but the name she preferred to call them wasn’t so benevolent. They got their positions not by the strength of their magic or even their wisdom but by bribes and enticements—the very things that’d gotten them kicked off Skye. It seemed corruption wasn’t so easily shaken.
She compared her people driven from Skye to the way England had pushed out the Puritans. And just like the Puritans had once they reached America, they governed with an iron fist and little to no mercy. It was on the tip of Ferne’s tongue to say exactly that to the assembly before her. It wasn’t as if remaining silent would grant her any reprieve. She knew what was coming.
And she welcomed it.
She didn’t worry for Mason. Her brother could handle himself. He always had.
“Ferne Crawford.” A deep, male voice rang out, belonging to the middle and eldest of the Druids. Isaac reminded her of a young Christopher Lee. He even had that same booming voice, but that was because he had been in the theatre and loved to mimic others.
The five stood in shadows with spotlights directed at their faces—it would’ve been a marvelous look for the stage. The first time she had stood before them thus, she had been summarily frightened and duly chastised by the end of the dressing down. But she was used to their theatrics—and she hated them for it.
“You know our rules,” Isaac stated.
Same old Isaac. “Times have changed.”
Behind her, she heard Mason grumble under his breath. Her brother meant well, but things were at a crossroads. She could no longer stand aside and watch things unfold.
Isaac’s eyes narrowed on her, his glare intense and frightening. “You don’t make the rules, girl.”
“I’ve tried to tell all of you for months now that something is developing on Skye.”
“We don’t care about the isle or the Druids there,” Isaac clipped out harshly.
Ferne gave him a glare of her own. “Well, you should. What’s happening there won’t stay there. It will reach us.”
“I’ll hear no more of that talk!” Isaac bellowed, his voice bouncing around until her ears hurt.
Ferne probably shouldn’t be elated at causing Isaac to lose his temper, but she was. She’d hated them for so long, but she had done what they wanted of her. She couldn’t do that anymore. Lives were at stake. “If you don’t listen to me, Druids will die.”
“Is that a threat?” Isaac asked, his voice low and threaded with danger.
She shook her head. “It’s a fact.”
“I warned you what would happen if you broke our rules again. We’ve been more than lenient with you because of your family. No longer will you have the protection of our faction. Henceforth, you are stripped of your standing and cast out of the London Druids—and the city. You have twenty-four hours to leave before we hunt you down and exact our vengeance.”
Even though Ferne had expected the verdict, it was still difficult to take. Strong hands took her arms and turned her away. She heard Mason’s voice, but the blood rushed too loudly in her ears for her to make out his words clearly.
The world blurred and people and faces vanished as she fought to put one foot in front of the other as Mason led her out of the building. Then she was in a car. The rev of the engine as the vehicle shot forward knocked her head back against the seat and cleared her vision and hearing.
“Bloody wankers. Every fucking one of them,” Mason ground out.
Ferne swallowed. “I knew this would be my fate.”
Mason glanced at her, his stormy gray eyes clouded with concern in the bright morning light. “I’m sorry, sis.”
“Don’t be.” She looked forward and forced her fingers to uncurl and lay flat on her lap. “The threat I’ve felt has grown significantly. It will come to London. It’ll sweep over the entire world unless something is done.”
“And you’re sure about the girl on Skye?”
“Kirsi? I am. I broke through to her, Mas, but I don’t know that it was enough.”
The car slowed as he came to a red light. His head swiveled to her. “Please tell me you aren’t going to do what I think you are.”
“I don’t have a choice.” She met his gaze. He’d always been there for her. A rock that never shuddered. He deserved a better sister than her, someone who caused problem after problem. “Besides, I don’t have a home in London anymore.”
“You’ve always preferred the country house. Go there for a bit.”
She wanted to refuse, but the two of them were all they had left. Their parents had died in a plane crash five years before. Mason inherited the family title and estates, as well as their mother’s leadership position in the London Druids.
“Please,” he urged.
Ferne had never been able to refuse her brother anything. They might have fought wildly as children, but they were extremely close now. Tragedy did that to people. “For a little while.”