The Enchanted Five

Book 1 Chapter 5

Bram felt her before he saw her, a shift in the air, tightening in the wards, a faint hum beneath his skin, like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t his. He stood at the far end of the great hall, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the doorway as if he could will the feeling away. He couldn’t. Then she stepped inside.

Aribella Thorne.

Bram’s breath caught not because she was the First, not because she was special, but because for a split second…

He saw Eilidh. Not her face or her smile. Not the woman he lost. Just the eyes. The same shape. The same quiet fire. The same way they searched the room, as if trying to understand it before it understood them. His chest tightened painfully.

No. Not again. Not her. He forced the reaction down, burying it beneath centuries of discipline. Ari was not Eilidh. She wasn’t even close. But those eyes....They were enough to shake him. Torin, standing just behind him, noticed the way Bram’s shoulders stiffened. “You alright?” he murmured.

Bram didn’t look away from Ari. “Fine.” It was a lie. A clean, practiced lie. Ari’s gaze met his across the hall, and something inside him jolted not recognition, not longing, but a ghost of a memory he’d spent years trying to kill. He tore his eyes away before she reached the table. He couldn’t afford to feel anything. Not for her. Not for anyone tied to the prophecy.

A low rumble vibrated through the floorboards so faint a human wouldn’t notice, but Bram felt it in his bones. The castle was awake. Watching. Waiting.

Torin heard it too. “She’s only been here an hour.”

Bram exhaled slowly. “Then we must be careful.”

“Careful?” Torin echoed. “Or distant?”

Bram didn’t respond. He couldn’t afford closeness. Not with her. Not with anyone tied to the prophecy.

“Prepare the staff,” Bram said instead. “We proceed as planned. She is here for the internship. Nothing more.”

Torin nodded, though doubt flickered in his eyes. “Aye. As you say.”

He left the room quietly. Bram remained at the window, staring out at the darkening Highlands. He didn’t know who Aribella Thorne truly was, what she would bring into his world, or if she was the First. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Everything had changed the moment she walked through the door.

The great hall filled slowly, the long table coming alive with quiet conversation and clinking silver. To Ari, they were staff cooks, groundskeepers, historians, caretakers. To Bram, they were family. Every one of them had bled for this castle. Every one of them had kept its secrets. Torin guided Ari toward the table, stopping at the place Bram had deliberately left open between them. Bram didn’t know why he’d done it. Instinct, maybe. Habit. Or the echo of eyes he didn’t want to remember. Ari hesitated, glancing between the two men. Torin offered a reassuring nod. “This is your place.”

Before she could sit, a sharp voice cut through the hall.

“Excuse me.” Liora.

Bram didn’t need to look to know the expression on her face; he could feel the irritation rolling off her like heat. She glided toward them, her dark hair perfectly arranged, her smile tight and brittle. “That seat is usually mine,” she said sweetly, placing a hand on the back of the chair Ari was about to take. “Tradition, you understand.”

Ari blinked, startled. “Oh... I didn’t know. I can move...”

“No,” Bram said. The word came out sharper than he intended. The entire table went silent.

Liora froze, her hand still on the chair. “My lord, I only meant...”

“That seat is for our guest,” Bram said, voice low, controlled. “She will sit there.”

Ari’s cheeks flushed. “Really, I don’t mind...”

“I do,” Bram said. Torin hid a smirk behind his hand. Liora’s eyes flashed with anger and jealousy, something darker, but she dipped her head in a stiff bow. “Of course,” she said tightly. “If that’s what you prefer.”

It wasn’t a preference. It was instinct. And Bram hated that he didn’t understand why. Liora moved to a seat farther down the table, her posture rigid, her smile brittle as glass. Ari sank into the chair between Bram and Torin, clearly uncomfortable with the tension.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Bram didn’t respond. He couldn’t look at her again, not with those eyes, not with the way the wards hummed the moment she sat beside him. Instead, he focused on the table, on the food, on anything but the girl who made the castle feel awake for the first time in twelve years.

Ari sat between Bram and Torin, trying not to fidget as the great hall filled with quiet conversation. To her, the people around the table were staff. To Bram, they were family, and every one of them was watching her.

Torin leaned in, voice warm. “So, Miss Thorne… what brought you to Highland research?”

Ari brightened. “My mom. She studied old folklore and Warden myths. I grew up loving the stories.”

Bram’s fork paused, though he kept his expression unreadable. Before Ari could say more, Liora’s voice cut in from farther down the table. “How charming. Americans do love our legends. Everything here must feel terribly mysterious to you.”

Ari blinked. “I… guess so?”

Torin smirked. “Ignore her. Liora thinks rain is a personal attack.”

Liora’s smile tightened. “I simply meant some people aren’t suited for places like this. The isolation. The expectations.” Her gaze slid pointedly to Ari. Ari flushed. “I’m sure I’ll adjust.” “Will you?” Liora murmured. “This castle can be overwhelming for someone without experience.” Bram set his goblet down with a soft thud. “Liora.” The hall went still. “That’s enough.”

Liora stiffened. “I was only trying to help.”

“You weren’t,” Bram said. “She is our guest. She will be treated with respect.” Ari stared at her plate, mortified. Torin hid a grin.

Conversation slowly resumed, but Bram felt the wards hum beneath the floorboards, a faint pulse that matched the moment Ari laughed softly at something Torin said. The castle was reacting to her, and Bram hated how much he felt it too.