Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae #1)(102)

“I now have a vested interest,” Devon heard Reagan say as he headed toward the house. “I shouldn’t go too deeply into the Realm, at present, but I’ll help in the Brink.”

“What about Darius?” Roger asked.

“Darius will have to make a choice—”

Alder closed the door behind Devon, muffling their voices. The chair Charity had sat in was now vacant. Alder moved around the table to take up his previous position, as though Ms. Bristol needed protection.

“Where’s Charity?” Devon asked.

Karen tilted the martini glass back, sucking the last bit dry. “Outside.” The glass clinked as she set it back on the table. “She needed to go for a walk and get some fresh air.”

“What’d you see for her?”

Karen’s blue eyes cut through him, her gaze nearly as sharp as Roger’s. “That’s none of your business, young man. You don’t own her. Now, let’s see…”

She leaned forward and looked into his eyes. Goosebumps crawled along his skin. Karen nodded and pulled the crystal ball in front of her.

White mist rolled and boiled within the glass. Colors flashed from deep within, and he started. He hadn’t expected that. Black threads wove through the white, followed by flashes of green. Then streaks of orange. Devon’s small hairs stood on end as tingles swept across his skin. Magic rolled and boiled in the living room like the mists within the glass, potent and powerful. Devon had heard about Ms. Bristol’s magic, but he hadn’t believed all the hype.

Now he understood why Alder stood by her side, in rapture. Her magic was almost a living thing, stretching out to the limits of the universe while nestled in the confines of that crystal ball. Devon’s wolf practically cowered within him, awestruck, sensing something that defied the laws of physics.

In a moment and an eternity both, his ears popped. His heart rate settled down. Alder shifted his stance and took a breath. The carnival ride of the cosmos was complete.

Ms. Bristol nodded and held up her martini glass. “I need another one of these, please.”

Alder moved to refill it immediately.

She pushed the ball away and, her eyes a little hazy now, refocused on Devon.

“Sometimes, the things we love the most do us the most harm.” She entwined her fingers. “And you do love her.” Her brow furrowed. “Or you will. It’s hard to tell which from the mists. But the time will come when you need to make a choice. A choice that concerns the rest of your life and, more importantly, her life.”

Devon’s gut pinched.

“I cannot see when this choice will come, but you will know when it is before you. The choice you must make will be against your heart. Against everything you’ve always wanted. Against your very being. To save Charity’s life—to give her a life—you must take the hard road, sacrifice your heart, and let her go.”

He shook his head and stood, his middle aching.

Ms. Bristol looked up at him as Alder rounded the corner with a refreshed martini. Her gaze was focused and dominant. Her conviction was unassailable. “When the time comes, Devon, if you truly love her, you must walk away.”

Devon shook his head. “She relies on me to have her back. We’re a team. We look out for each other. How can walking away from her, leaving her vulnerable, be the best possible plan?”

Ms. Bristol took the martini glass and sipped. She leaned back in her chair. “I have no idea.”

Devon tilted his head. “What?”

She shrugged. “I can’t see that part. I can only see your crossroads, and the choice you must make. Everything else is hazy and unformed. I don’t put images in the ball, kid. I just read what it gives me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Devon spat.

“Watch yourself,” Alder said quietly, like a whip to Devon’s wolf.

Devon’s muscles tensed and his body bristled. He stared into Alder’s eyes.

Alder returned his stare, and Devon prepared for the older, harder wolf to force him to submit. Instead, Alder said, “She’s out back. She could probably use your company.”

Devon was moving before he consciously thought to. After a quick detour, he found Charity sitting on the edge of the porch, looking out at the trees. Quietly, he sat down beside her, his gut churning.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She glanced his way, and worry crinkled her eyes. She forced a smile. The effort was obvious, and his heart twisted painfully.

“Tarot? Really?” She went back to looking at the trees. “I’m sorry, Devon, but is that really magic? I’ve had my fortune read plenty of times, and it was all cockamamie. None of it came true.”

She stood in a rush and turned his way, her magic rising.

“The Brink is my home. This is my home”—she gestured around her—“as long as you’ll have me. Finishing school is my dream. Making something of myself is my dream. This is my choice, not…” She flung her hand, indicating something in the distance.

He stood with her, wondering what had happened to her sword.

“The woman is a fraud.”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to him. She looked into his eyes, opening herself to him in a way no other woman had, in a way he cherished, and was eager to reciprocate.

“I love you,” he said, feeling it with every ounce of his person. “I will always protect you. This will always be your home.”