Book 1 Chapter 13
1062 Words
By the time Ari reached her room, her head was pounding. Dinner with Bram had been… confusing. Frustrating. Infuriating. And somehow still magnetic in a way she didn’t want to think about. She shut her door, leaned against it, and exhaled. “Why are you like this?” she muttered to no one. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the nightly alarm she’d set to remind herself to call her dad. The one routine that still felt normal. She climbed onto the bed, pulled her knees up, and hit call.
Thomas answered on the second ring. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Ari’s chest loosened. “Hey, Dad.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m confused. And overwhelmed. And Bram is not helping.”
Thomas chuckled softly. “Ah. The Scottish one.”
“Dad,” she groaned. “He keeps dodging my questions. Every time I get close to something real, he shuts down. And the prophecy stuff… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Thomas didn’t speak right away. He never rushed her. Never pushed. “Tell me what’s bothering you most,” he said gently.
Ari stared at the ceiling. “Everything. The prophecy. The werebear legends. The Fraser line. The bond between the First and the Prince. And Bram...” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do with Bram.”
Thomas exhaled slowly. “Ari… you’re following a trail your mother started. It’s not supposed to be easy or clear.”
“I feel like I’m missing something.”
“You are,” he said softly. “But that’s part of it. You have to follow the trail wherever it leads, even if it scares you, even if it confuses you. Even if someone along the way makes it harder.”
Ari swallowed. “You mean Bram.”
“I mean, anyone who stands between you and the truth,” Thomas said carefully. “Including yourself.”
Ari blinked. “Dad…”
“I trust you,” he said. “And your mother did too. Keep going.”
Her throat tightened. “I miss her.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But she’s with you. More than you realize.”
They talked a little longer, about home, about the girls, about nothing at all, until Ari finally felt her shoulders relax.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, Dad.”
She hung up and stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting the quiet settle. Then she grabbed her phone again.
Ari:
Hey, any updates from the Cove? Anything weird happen today?
It took ten seconds.
El:
Define weird.
Cina:
Yeah, babe, you gotta be more specific.
Wynter:
If you mean the lighthouse humming again, then yes.
Ari sat up. Again?
Ari:
Seriously? When?
Cora:
Like an hour ago, I was painting, and the whole studio vibrated.
El:
Speaking of vibrating… Cora, tell her about your beach man.
Ari blinked. Beach man?
Ari:
What beach, man?
Cora immediately responded.
Cora:
NO.
Which, of course, meant yes.
Cina:
Oh, she’s blushing. I can FEEL it through the phone.
Wynter:
He helped her carry her canvases. And smiled at her. And she melted like butter in a skillet.
El:
She also forgot how to speak for a full ten seconds.
Cora:
I hate all of you.
Ari laughed, really laughed for the first time in days.
Ari:
Okay, I need details. Height? Hair? Did he have a name?
Cora:
I’m not telling you vultures anything.
Cina:
Translation: she’s already in love.
Wynter:
The wedding’s next summer.
El:
I’ll bring the cake.
Ari wiped a tear from her eye, smiling.
For a moment, the prophecy, the pendant, Bram’s walls, all of it faded. Her girls grounded her. They always had. And she needed that more than she realized. Ari’s stomach rumbled the moment she set her phone down. All that emotional whiplash, Bram, the prophecy, her dad, the girls, and she’d forgotten to eat again. She slipped out of her room, padding down the dim hallway. The castle was hushed at night, the kind of quiet that made every footstep echo. She made her way to the kitchen, grabbed a slice of berry tart Moira had left cooling on the counter, and headed back toward her room. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard voices.
Bram’s voice and Torin’s. Ari froze. They were in the small sitting room off the main hall, the door cracked just enough for their voices to drift out. Torin sounded amused. “So. Town was… eventful.”
Bram groaned. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” Torin said, laughter in his voice. “You storm into the bookshop like a jealous thundercloud and drag the poor lass away from a perfectly harmless conversation...”
“He wasn’t harmless,” Bram snapped. “He looked… skitchy.”
“Skitchy,” Torin repeated, snorting. “That’s your professional assessment?”
“He was too interested,” Bram muttered. “Too close. Too… something.”
Torin laughed outright. “Aye, because that’s your job, isn’t it? Glowering at every man who looks at her. Classic mate behavior.” Ari’s breath caught. Mate? Bram’s voice dropped, rough and strained. “Don’t. Eilidh was my mate.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Torin’s tone softened. “Bram… that was a lifetime ago.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Bram said quietly. “I can’t... I won’t... do that again.”
Ari’s heart twisted painfully.
Torin sighed. “You’re fighting something that’s already chosen you. And her.”
Bram didn’t answer. Ari stepped back, careful not to make a sound. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she hurried down the hall, berry tart forgotten in her hand. Eilidh. Mate. Chosen. None of it made sense. By the time she reached her room, her thoughts were a tangled mess. She shut the door softly behind her and leaned against it, trying to breathe. Bram was hiding something. Torin knew more than he let on. And Ari… Ari was caught in the middle of something ancient, dangerous, and heartbreakingly complicated.
She crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. For the first time since arriving at the castle, she wasn’t sure if she wanted answers. Because she wasn’t sure she was ready for them.
- Writer
