The pole is still there – broken, but there.
The chain still hanging from the top of it.
I lived with the thing every day. Tended the garden beside it. Rested in the shade on the wall beneath it to catch my breath when Alfie, the little bugger, made me chase him.
Every. Chuckin’. Day.
But seeing it just this once has left a hard, knotted feeling inside of me.
Is it that easy to forget? Like a dog forgetting its master’s orders and relearning the hard way.
Seth pauses as soon as we’re out of sight. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to hear what the others are saying. All I can hear is muttering, but these guys have better hearing than me. And because he’s paused, I’m paused. Stuck.
I adjust the clothing strewn along the banister. It makes me a little nervous having their gear everywhere when they’re usually packed and ready to run. Run from the Sabers chasing us, the Crown, the chuckin’ end of the world in a massive magically-induced forest fire.
Life went from one scary situation to another when I left Lord Martin’s estate.
I physically have to glance at my wrist to remind myself that it’s not the same kind of captivity. But there’s a growing feeling inside me that safety is impossible and that survival is a dart falling too fast to ever hit the board.
“Vexy,” Seth says, stepping in close.
His chest to my back and the banister in front of me – the two of us standing on the same step. Then he cups his hand around mine – the one I’m holding up in fearful inspection of chains that no one else can see.
“I can’t feel your emotions,” he says. “You have to talk to me.”
I swallow and shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
His other arm slips around my middle – he’s hugging me, and it feels so good. Seth is confidence, and the man pausing to explore my complete lack of confidence feels beautiful in a way I can’t quite find words for.
“You don’t understand,” I manage.
“If I can understand ladies’ undergarments, the smell of week-old tacos, and Pax’s unnatural love of pie – there’s a chance I can understand whatever is worrying you.”
“Do you understand captivity?”
He lets out a long, slow exhale. “I had twenty coins on you lasting from the first day of your bubble until the new moon before crumpling. But, in my defense, your bubble wasn’t shrinking at that time.”
“What?” I demand.
“That would have been eleven days, from the day we were in the potions lab.”
I turn in his arms so I can face him, and while he lets me turn, he doesn’t back up or give me any space. So we’re still hugging and now also arguing.
“You put a bet down on my misery?”
He takes a quick breath and furrows his brow like it wasn’t what he was expecting, but he keeps talking as if none of it is worth his attention. Typical Seth.
“Only with Roarke, and not on your misery – on your strength,” he says.
“Strength?” I ask.
He nods, those deep blue eyes of his pulling me in, easing the tension inside me in a way only Seth can.
“You are one of the strongest people I know,” he says. “And that would be the complete truth whether you crumbled today or last week.”
I wrap my arms around him, falling into the hug I had been resisting, and rest my head against his chest.
He’s not telling me it’s all okay, or that I’m wrong for feeling this way, or that I need to just suck it up. He’s telling me that I can exist in this moment, as horrible and undesirable as it is. I can exist.
And I really like existing.
“What if I can’t stay strong?”
“That’s okay, you have the four of us to hold you up, and I’ve been putting aside some of my strength for a while now – just in case you need it.” As he talks, he hooks his finger under my chin and tilts my head back.
His lips brush over mine, so soft at first – then maybe he falls into the moment, maybe it’s me rising up on the balls of my feet, but our soft kiss soon turns to deep passion.
I have to survive this bubble because I can’t lose this.
I can’t lose these guys.
Suddenly, Seth breaks away and half-carries, half-pushes me downstairs, his brothers close behind us. As soon as we’re in the living space, he lets go, and I stagger back until he catches my shoulders and steadies me. He’s bloody beaming, like nearly knocking me on the floor is a compliment. I’m a little too out of breath to set him straight – understatement.
I bite my lip in an effort to find some focus as we fan out in the sitting room, which luckily is bigger than the upstairs space. This house is built in tiers, each one slightly offsetting the one above.
Roarke kneels beside the hearth and sets to work bringing the small fireplace to life. Either Seth or Killian, I don’t see which, tosses the blanket from the back of the couch, and Pax wraps the thing around my shoulders.
“Plan?” Pax asks, looking down at Roarke.
Seth moves through everyone and into the kitchen, saying, “Get drunk,” as he opens doors and drawers.
I cross the room and kneel in the middle of the couch, so I can watch them over the back of it. Most of them are in the space between the stairs and the seats. The kitchen is tucked back to the left, front door to the right, and the fireplace and stairs in between.
“I think I managed a reversal for the Rearrange Potion during the night, but without simultaneously reversing Logan’s potion, all we’re going to do is put his efforts to right, and I will need water from the Spring for that.”
“Roarke, man, in words I understand,” Seth groans. “The woman doesn’t even have any wine.”
“Why not?” Killian asks.
“Focus,” Pax says, passing a
