Author: Erin Klitzke

Or merry solstice, if you prefer!  Here’s a draft of what might be the ending chapter of Girl from a Brigadoon–someday.

Hope you enjoy.

It was late as she walked the last block from the club to her building, snow falling softly all around her, glittering silver in the amber and white lights from the streetlamps and sconces between work and home. There was no wind and the snow seemed to dampen the sounds of the city somehow. Even the city that never slept seemed to somehow be slumbering now, on this, the longest night of the year.

The evening had been spent buried in reports, slogging through a pile of data and paperwork as she and Jim struggled to get a real handle on everything that had happened in the past three months.

September felt like a lifetime ago.

It practically was, Brigid thought with a rueful smile, stopping at the corner as a car drove past, its tires making soft noises in the snow and damp. Somewhere in the city, there must have still been stores open, shopping happening. She knew that out in the park, the nahuali were celebrating the solstice night in their own way. Down at St. Malachy’s, Orestes would be holding a late mass. She half wondered who might be there.

It didn’t really matter.

She crossed the street once the car was gone. There were a few lights on in her building, but none of them belonged to people she knew, except for the tree that lit Mat and AJ’s window. Further up, her apartment was dark except for the candles in the windows. At least the twins had remembered to unplug the tree before going to bed.

The doorman nodded to her, holding the door as she stepped in from the chill, not quite realizing how cold it was outside until she got into the warmth of the lobby. She smiled at him.

“Thanks, Derrek.”

“Have a good night, Commander,” he said, then resumed his vigil, sipping from his ever-present travel mug of coffee, his gaze drifting back toward the snowy streets outside. Brigid scuffed her boots along the runner beyond the door, then headed for the elevator. The damp more than the cold had set her knee to aching. A hot shower and her bed sounded wonderful.

Her phone buzzed as she got into the elevator. She punched the button for her floor and leaned back against the wall, shucking her gloves to check her messages. Just a text from Jim saying that he’d gotten home safely. He’d left nearly an hour before she had, but he’d had a longer commute than she had, after all. She sent him a thumbs-up, then put her phone back into her pocket as the elevator doors opened on her floor.

The wreath on her door greeted her as she dug her keys out. A feeling of calm settled over her, a welcome relief after another long day. The work seemed endless these days and that feeling didn’t seem likely to go away anytime soon. At least one night was done.

She dropped her keys on the console next to her front door as she stepped inside her apartment. In the light from the hall and the flickering of the television screen, she could see him asleep on the couch, clearly having lost a battle to wait up for her. Brigid smiled and closed the door behind her, not bothering with the light and hardly wanting to disturb Robert. If he’d fallen asleep on her couch, there was good reason for it.

The day’s mail was piled on the console, brought up thanks to the twins when they’d come home from the last day of school before winter break. On top was a small box marked international mail. Her heart started to beat a little faster. Swallowing hard, she gathered it up and crept to the kitchen with that box, shedding her coat on the way.

She turned on the light over the sink and peered at the return address on the parcel. A lump rose in her throat, butterflies exploding in her stomach. She glanced back toward the living room, toward the back of the couch and the flickering television. Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest and she took a pair of slow, deep breaths, trying to calm herself before she slipped back into the living room.

Robert stirred slightly as she sat down on the edge of the couch and touched his shoulder. “Robin?” she whispered, shaking him gently. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

He made a quiet sound, then one eye cracked open, regarding her with a mixture of annoyance and elation. “You’re home,” he murmured sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Late,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He shifted on the couch, then started to sit up, blinking at her in the dim. “You didn’t know I was going to come.”

“No,” she admitted. The box sat in her lap and now she held it with both hands, clutched it like it was something precious.

If Laurie had been able to do what he’d set out to do, it was something precious.

Robert studied her for a few seconds, then glanced down to the box. His brow arched slightly. Swallowing hard, Brigid handed it to him.

“Open it,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

Her voice came thick from her throat. “Just open it.”

A faint frown creased his forehead, but Robert didn’t argue. He took the box, unwinding the paper wrapping, half tattered from its transatlantic journey, then began to open the box beneath. Nestled in brown paper cushioning inside the box was a small box made of wood, a celtic knot burned into the lid. Brigid held her breath as Robert arched a brow, glancing at her as he took the wooden box from its nest. There was something almost tentative in the way he lifted the lid, as if he’d suddenly started to suspect what it was that had arrived.

Inside that small wooden box lay a ring of knotted metal, rose gold with silver and gunmetal gray, resting on a bed of wine-dark velveteen. It was so simple and yet—

“Brigid,” he whispered, not daring to look at her. “Is this–?”

“He promised,” she said, tearing her gaze away from the ring to search his face for something even she couldn’t define. “But—”

“But nothing,” Robert said softly, discarding the packing box and settling the wooden one on his knee. He started to take off his gloves, taking a slow breath much like the ones she’d taken in the kitchen before she’d awoken him. Carefully, he lifted the small loop of metal from the box, sliding it onto the ring finger of his right hand.

“Does it feel any different?” she asked, her voice barely audible. Robert looked at her, his brow still furrowed slightly.

“Not really,” he said softly. “But then, there’s only one way to really test it, isn’t there?”

She frowned, meeting his gaze. Her eyes began to sting as her heart plummeted. “I don’t—it’s—”

“And if we’re going to test it,” he continued, “even if it doesn’t work, I want to make this worth it.”

That was all the warning she got before her kissed her. For a second, she stiffened, panic trying to seize her as memories flooded back of the only other time she’d ever kissed him and what it had done. This would be worse if Laurie’s gift didn’t work.

Then she realized his hand was on her cheek and he hadn’t drawn away—instead, he was kissing her harder, more hungrily.

A sound that was half a laugh, half a sob tore free of her throat and she kissed him back, her heart soaring. She felt him laugh as she wrapped her arms around him, the fingers of his free hand tangling in her hair. When they finally came up for air, he rested his forehead against hers, grinning boyishly.

“I’d say that it works,” he whispered, thumb stroking her cheek, wiping away a tear that had welled up and started to roll down her face. “I’ll have to thank him sometime.”

“Both of us will,” Brigid breathed, then smiled. “Oh my god, it works.”

“It does.” Robert kissed her nose, smiling. “And it feels incredible.”

Brigid laughed and buried her face against his shoulder, hugging him hard. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest and she could hear his heartbeat, too, strong and going as fast as hers.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “My Brigid.”

“I love you more,” she said into his neck, holding on tighter. “God, Robin.”

He laced his fingers through her hair, resting his cheek against her head. “I never thought I’d be able to do this.”

“How does it feel?”

“Incredible.” He leaned back and her arms loosened, her head lifting so she could meet his gaze. There was a storm there, a fire, and it set her heart racing even faster. “Thank you.”

“No,” she said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek with her bare hand. “Thank you.”

Twenty-two

“Shit,” Jason breathed from behind them, moving into the shadows, Joslyn hot on his heels. Elaine stood frozen, staring at the space where Caius had been, as if by standing still, she could somehow will him into being.

What just happened?

“He disconnected,” Jason muttered.

“Is he coming back?” Joslyn asked.

Elaine’s heart kept hammering, heart in her throat.

Please come back. Please.

“I’m checking.” Jason’s gaze got distant for a few seconds, posture rigid as he stood next to Joslyn.

Suddenly, Caius was back again, gulping in a breath and pressing one hand against his temple, the other blindly groping for Elaine’s arm.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Sorry, sorry.”

“What happened?” Elaine asked.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t panic.”

“Too late.” Jason crossed his arms, staring at his brother. “What just happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Caius said. “For now, let’s just—let’s just carry on.”

“Peter.”

“Not now,” he said firmly, glaring at Jason. “Please.”

Maybe it was the tone, or perhaps something in the look, but Jason sighed and looked away.

“Fine. Okay. It’s not going to happen again?”

“It shouldn’t.” Caius smiled wryly and shook his head. “I hope not, anyway.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the hand he’d pressed to his temple fall away even as the other found Elaine’s arm and squeezed gently. “Just a little trouble. Nothing to worry about.”

There was nothing but concern in Jason’s gaze and voice. “Are you sure?”

“I’m never sure of anything anymore, little brother,” he said. “But I’m as close to it as I can get right now.”

“Okay,” Jason said quietly. “Then nothing happened.”

Caius stared at him for a moment before softly saying, “Thank you.”

Jason just nodded and took Joslyn’s hand, tucking her arm through his again. “Shall we go down?”

“Yes,” Caius said, glancing at Elaine. “I owe you a few turns on the floor, I think.”

“And mulled wine in your room after,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingertips along his cheek. Caius smiled.

“It’s a date.”

He looped her arm around his and led her to the steps and down, maintaining the appearance to all the world that nothing was wrong, that nothing had just happened up on the balcony beyond the sight of other eyes.

He was, if anything, a good actor. His hand covered hers where she grasped his arm, his fingers warm. Gone was the cold mask, replaced by something almost like joy. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to put that expression there, but she was glad to see it in any case.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as she and Caius passed through them, the crowd itself parting before them like curtains on opening night. She could feel the weight of stares, hear softly spoken questions, statements, some less complementary than others.

It didn’t matter. Tongues could be left to wag. The only thing that really mattered was the man by her side and the fact that he had somehow chosen her just like that.

In the corner, the orchestra was warming up—how long they’d been there, she couldn’t say, since she hadn’t been looking for them when she had arrived. They’d probably arrived during the flood of other people and taken their positions quietly and unobtrusively. She smiled faintly and glanced at Caius, who glanced over in the same heartbeat and smiled back.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly as they reached the center of the floor.

“Always,” she said as he let go of her arm, letting her circle to stand in front of him. Onlookers formed a ring around them, as they had the last time, and Elaine’s heart began to beat a little faster.

I hope no one tries anything stupid this time. Don’t they know what a risk it would be?

She dropped into a curtsey and Caius bowed to her, taking her hand as the orchestra played the first few notes of a song. She squeezed his fingers gently as she settled her free hand on his shoulder, his free hand curving gently around her waist and drawing her a little closer than what was actually proper. The smile on his lips lit up his whole face, his eyes bright as he snared hers, holding her gaze as they began to move.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Jason and Joslyn standing at the edge of the circle around them, watching the crowd, each searching for threats. Each of them stole occasional glances at she and Caius, and when they did, each were smiling. If their approval had ever been a concern, it seemed they had it.

“Do you really think someone’s going to try to hurt you tonight?” The words were a whisper in his ear after a spin out and back to his chest, bringing them even closer than he’d drawn her when they’d started dancing.

“Depends on how bold they are,” he murmured back, gaze roaming for a few seconds before he looked at her again. “We’ve gotten nothing from the one who tried initially. Utterly refuses to speak—a tough nut to crack.”

“Maybe he was working alone?”

“Doubtful,” Caius said, then smiled briefly. “But a nice hope, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she agreed, then let him spin her again. Her skirts swirled around them, enveloping his legs as she returned to his embrace. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but Caius simply shook his head slightly.

“That, I think, will be unavoidable—though we can try our damnedest to make sure those moments are limited.”

Elaine nodded hard. “Yes,” she said, practically breathless. “Yes.”

The song drew to a close and they paused there in the center of the floor. Caius smiled at her faintly. “Another?”

“Please.”

“All night?” He suggested.

She laughed. “If you’re up to it.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

She liked the sound of that.

“Seems that the bait you laid didn’t bring anyone to the trap,” Jason said as they retired to a sitting room overlooking the sea after the guests had gone. It wasn’t Caius’s private sanctum, but another comfortably appointed room elsewhere in the keep at Weatherstone. A servant trailed them, carrying a tray of coffee and pastries for the four. He set the tray on a low table before making an unobtrusive exit.

Caius settled into an easy chair with a quiet groan, putting his feet up on the corner of the table. “It could either be a good or bad thing, that. Was anyone watching too closely?”

“More than a few people,” Joslyn said, pouring coffee for each of them and passing the mugs to Elaine to hand out. “But I think they were mostly fascinated by the idea of the two of you as a pairing than any sort of malicious intent.”

“Maybe next time I shouldn’t come,” Elaine suggested as she handed Caius his mug. He startled slightly at the suggestion, his eyes widening.

“No,” he said, perhaps a little too quickly. He checked himself, relaxing a fraction. “No,” he said again, this time more slowly, deliberately. “I said I wanted you with me, Isolde, and I meant it.”

She nodded, sitting down in an adjacent chair. “All right. Then how do we flush them out?”

“You might have been right,” he said. “They’re not entirely foolish. They’ll bide their time for a little while before they make another move. Maybe they’ll wait until I leave Weatherstone to make it.”

“Might be easier for them to get close to you outside,” Jason said, frowning as he took a slow sip of his coffee. “More variables under their control than ours.”

Caius nodded. “Not a bad thought there.”

“So what do we do, then?” Elaine clutched her mug in both hands so tightly her knuckles were turning white. “Do we just wait?”

“For a little while,” Caius said, sounding thoughtful. “It’s not as if I’m going to be leaving Weatherstone anytime in the next week or so, not until I’m fully healed. That gives us some time and perhaps a little breathing room. We can drop rumors later this week that I’ll be in town for something—we’ll come up with a good excuse—and give a few different days for it and see what crops up.”

“If anything crops up,” Jason murmured, rubbing his temple. “I don’t like this, Cay.”

“That makes two of us, brother,” Caius said. “I know you said I have more enemies than I’m aware of, but this is uncharacteristically bold for anyone, don’t you think?”

Jason nodded, getting up and starting to pace, pausing to stare out the window at the sea. The world beyond the glass was dark, lit only by the fading moon.

Caius absently reached for Elaine’s hand, gently disengaging it from her mug.  “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Ascalon,” he said, watching him. “You know that.”

“I do.” Jason sighed, glancing back over his shoulder. “But at what cost, Cay? At what cost will we get to the bottom of this one?”

“Hopefully not one that’s too bloody high,” Caius said.

“On that, I think all of us agree,” Joslyn said, leaning back on the couch she’d settled on. “But I do hope we unravel it quickly—for all of our sakes.”

“Agreed,” Elaine murmured, squeezing Caius’s hand. He squeezed back and gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Or at least it will be soon enough.”

“I’m only worried,” she said. “That’s all.”

“I know,” he said, then squeezed her hand again. “But it’ll be all right. I promise.”

There were few promises she’d ever hoped were kept more than that one, right then.

Twenty-one

“When we talked about keeping on keeping on, I didn’t think it would include this,” Joslyn murmured, her hand clamped around his. “He is seriously going to keep on doing things like there’s nothing wrong?”

“Yup,” Jason said. Across from them in the carriage, Elaine glanced out the window, trying to seem completely unperturbed by the whole situation. From the corner of her eye she could see Jason watching her for a second before his attention shifted back to Joslyn. “This is how he wants to play it. No one can know what’s going on in real life, at least not yet, not until it becomes strictly necessary.”

“Is that how he put it?” she asked.

“That’s how it put it to me,” Elaine said, staring out the window. “I’m guessing he probably said the same thing to you.”

“He did,” Jason said. “And it didn’t surprise me at all. That’s him. That’s how he’s always been.”

The carriage made the turn out of town, climbing the roadway up toward Weatherstone. “Almost time to get the game faces on,” Elaine said softly. “We can do this.”

It had ben a week since they’d found out about him being sick. Jason had already made the decision to head back to Wisconsin by the middle of the following week, regardless of what his brother said. Joslyn was going to go with him. Elaine was thinking about going herself. Autumn break was coming up. She could afford to take those few days away, even if it was going to be a long drive. When Hadrian had asked about her plans for those few days off, she’d mentioned it off-handedly. He’d just grinned.

That was all she needed to know that he thought it was a good idea.

Tonight was another gala at Weatherstone, though from what Jason had said, this was one he expected to be a little smaller, though not by too much—about three quarters of the size, which was still huge as far as Elaine was concerned, and not nearly as secure as any of them would have liked considering what had happened the last time Caius Horatio, Lord of Elfaedil, held a party.

“Do you know if he increased security?” she asked, slipping into character without another thought.

“He didn’t say anything about it,” Jason murmured. “But I do know that the guest list includes a few people beyond reproach.”

“Well,” Elaine said as she smoothed her skirt. “I guess that’s something.”

“Does he want us down in the crowd or up top?” Joslyn asked, fiddling with her glove. “The invite didn’t say.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. Elaine looked away from the window, her brow arching. “Do you even know?”

He nodded. “He wants us with him,” he said after a moment. “I’m just not sure how people are going to react to it, all things considered. I mean, you saved his life at the last one but I’m not sure if it’s going to be taken as a sign of trust or a sign of weakness. It could go either way.”

“Or it could go both ways,” Elaine said softly. “I guess we’ll see, right?”

Jason nodded slowly, glancing out the window again. They were close, now, the massive iron gates of Weatherstone standing open, the courtyard lit by torches. He took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly.

“We should be the first to arrive,” Jason said as the carriage rolled into the courtyard. “We’ll head straight up. He’ll be waiting.”

“You’ve done this a thousand times, haven’t you?” Elaine asked.

He smiled faintly. “Not a thousand, but enough. Usually I’m here earlier, though.”

The carriage drew up before the steps and stopped. One of the footmen appeared, opening the door and handing Elaine out first before Jason climbed out and handed Joslyn down himself. A guard in silver and white livery was on hand to greet them, bowing respectfully before he addressed Jason.

“M’lord Dravenwood, Lord Elfaedil awaits you in the great hall.”

“I suspected he might,” Jason said quietly, tucking Joslyn’s arm through his. “We’ll attend him presently. Thank you.”

“Of course, m’lord.” The guard bowed and backed away, then pivoted on his heel to resume a spot near the foot of the steps. Jason took a deep breath and headed up the stairs toward the doors, Joslyn at his side and Elaine trailing less than half a step behind.

“No doubt this will be another interesting evening,” he murmured as they passed through the doors and headed for the great hall.

“Hopefully not as interesting as the last one,” Elaine murmured.

Servants were in the midst of final preparations as they entered the great hall. Caius—Peter—was nowhere in sight, though Jason set an unerring course toward the hidden stairway up to the gallery at the far end of the hall. Elaine lifted her skirts a little higher as she hurried to keep up.

He’s in more of a rush than I expected. The question was why.

She didn’t know, nor was she entirely certain that she wanted to.

Together, they climbed the stairs up, finding Caius waiting for them there, pacing slowly back and forth. The pacing stopped as they appeared, his gaze lighting on each of them—but the traces of worry and nervousness didn’t vanish until his gaze settled on Elaine.

A blush crept across her cheeks and she glanced down for a moment, dropping into a quick curtsey.

“No,” he said, probably more harshly than he intended, because he repeated the word more gently a second time. “No. You—you don’t have to do that, Isolde. Not when we’re like this.” He swallowed hard, eyes gleaming in the shadows. “Please.”

She straightened quickly. “Oh-okay.” She started toward him and he met her partway, reaching a hand out to take hers.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he breathed as he squeezed her fingers. “Not just because you’re the healer, either.”

She blushed again, though this time a grin accompanied it. “Really?”

“Beyond all doubt,” he murmured, then kissed her cheek before he turned to regard his brother and Joslyn again. “So,” he said, his voice a little louder now, “it’s time to see if we can sort through who’s behind the assassination attempt.”

Joslyn rocked back against her heels. “Is that what tonight is all about?”

“Well, there is the matter of some additional information about the Sapphire Crown that we’ll be passing along,” Caius said, smiling briefly, though the expression was there and gone in a matter of a few heartbeats. “The people that will be here tonight are the people who have agreed to join the hunt for the crown.”

Elaine frowned. “How can we be sure that the people behind the attempt on your life will have joined the hunt?”

“They’ll want as much opportunity to get to him as possible,” Jason murmured, eyeing his brother. “That’s the logic, isn’t it?”

Caius nodded. “That’s it exactly. And if for some reason they’ve opted out, then the pool of possible suspects is much narrower. Most of the people who came last week will be here again tonight—most have decided to join the hunt.”

“Even the ones who stormed out?” Joslyn asked, her brow quirking. “You let them back in?”

He shrugged slightly. “If I punished everyone who suffered some sort of fit of pique, I might not end up with anyone looking for the crown eventually. I’m not about to let their initial reactions rule out their participation—not yet, anyway.”

“You’re too kind sometimes, Cay,” Jason said quietly. “I hope this isn’t the time it bites you in the ass.”

“So do I,” Caius said with a rueful smile. “I guess we’ll see.”

“That we will,” Jason said, glancing back toward the doors to the great hall, doors that liveried servants were closing as the four talked up in the gallery above, the preparations finally complete. Elaine followed his gaze.

“Will you be safe?” she murmured to Caius. He hadn’t released her hand and she squeezed his now. He squeezed back.

“As safe as I ever am,” he said. “There will be people in the crowd watching—not to mention the three of you with me.” For a few seconds, he studied her, one corner of his mouth curving into a broader smile. “If I asked you to dance with me again, would you?”

Elaine nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling. “If you asked. Are you asking?”

“Of course I am.” He was actually grinning now, his eyes bright. “I think I’m up to it. Do you?”

“I think you’re sound enough for a few turns,” she said, her tone only mildly teasing.

He actually laughed. From the corner of her eye, she could see his brother grinning at them. Joslyn, though, was giving her an I-told-you-so smirk that she knew all too well. “With any luck, we’ll solve a problem and enjoy ourselves this evening,” he said as his laughter faded. “It might be too much to ask, but at least it’s a goal.”

“Not a bad one,” Jason said, still watching the doors. “Possibly unachievable, but not a bad goal.”

“You seem paranoid,” Caius observed, studying him for a moment.

“Shouldn’t I be?” Jason finally tore his gaze from the doors and regarded his brother with a long, quiet look. “It’s your life at stake, Cay. I only have one brother. Can you really blame me for worrying about your safety?”

“No,” Caius said quietly. His fingers flexed around Elaine’s. “In fact, I love you more for it because it’s far more than I have or ever will deserve.”

“Don’t say that, Cay,” Jason said, shaking his head. “You know that’s not true.”

A wry smile curved his lips and he shook his head. “That’s a battle for another night. They’ll be arriving soon.”

“Will you be greeting them from up here or down there?” Joslyn asked.

Caius inclined his head. “I think the objective tonight is to make a statement. Several statements. We’ll greet them from right there.” He nodded toward the balcony. “Then, after everyone is here, we’ll go down and I’ll make the announcement from the center of the floor. After that, we’ll see what happens.” He glanced at Elaine. “I want you on my arm—if you’re willing.”

Her cheeks heated again. “Another statement?” she asked softly.

“More like a declaration,” he murmured, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Do you accept?”

She nodded. Her cheek tingled a little where he’d kissed her, a feeling she’d never experienced before he’d kissed her for the first time—now days past—but had decided that she liked. “Of course.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

The way Jason and Joslyn were both grinning at them told her that they were glad, too.

Elaine decided she didn’t care how they felt about it—the way she felt was more important, and she was over the moon. Caius let go of her hand and offered her his arm. She tucked hers through it, smiling. He smiled back, though it was almost a sad expression.

“This could be dangerous for you,” he said softly.

“It’s all right,” she said, matching his volume. “I’m starting to think that staying safe all the damn time is overrated.”

He seemed to be on the verge of laughing again, but he was cut off by the sound of the doors opening at the far end of the great hall.

“They’re here,” Jason murmured.

“So they are,” Caius said, suddenly all business again. He took deep breath, shoulders slumping for a second before he squared them and moved toward the balcony, drawing Elaine with him. The skirts of her slate gray gown whispered against the tiles beneath their feet, rustling softly with each step. Caius put his free hand over hers where it rested on his arm as they came to the balcony, offering her a brief, reassuring smile before his mask of cool indifference settled into place. She touched his hand, though only for a second, letting it drop away after she was sure he’d felt the touch. Jason and Joslyn moved to stand on the other side of Caius, the brothers standing shoulder to shoulder, flanked by Elaine and Joslyn on either side—Caius, Elaine abruptly but belatedly realized, was left-handed, based on the side he wore his sword on.

Well, that works out neatly, doesn’t it? She suppressed the urge to shake her head, instead watching as figures started to slowly filter into the great hall, garbed much the same as they had been at the last gala—well-dressed, elegant, usually though not necessarily unarmed. Some she recognized, others she didn’t, though according to Caius, all of them were here ostensibly for the same purpose—to garner some more revelations about the Sapphire Crown.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked him in a whisper. His lips barely moved as he answered her.

“Just stay with me. You’ll know what to do when the moment comes.”

A chill raced down her spine. He sounded so certain. It was terrifying.

He squeezed her fingers, then let go, bracing himself against the balcony with his free hand, his gaze like a hawk as he surveyed the slowly gathering crowds below. Elaine drew a little closer to him and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Just stay with me.

She stole a glance at him and had to fight down a smile.

All you had to do was ask.

The room filled quickly, so quickly that Elaine had to wonder if it had been this quick when she and Joslyn had come the last time, or if it was the speed of her racing heart and standing at Caius’s side that made time seem compressed. After what seemed like forever, the flow of people slowed to a trickle. Caius took a breath and exhaled it slowly.

He cleared his throat and then began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming this evening,” he said, his voice deceptively quiet but carrying, Elaine knew, to the rafters and to the very back of the room, reaching each ear at the same level of volume as the next. “Everyone here has committed to assist in the hunt for the Sapphire Crown, and for that, you all have my gratitude. This artifact is important to the future of our lands and the safety of our people. It must be safely delivered here so it can be secured against any threat that may be posed to it or it may pose to us.” His hand curled into a fist on the railing, slowly, nails scraping until they tucked under and in against his palm. He paused for a few seconds, then continued—changing plans, it seemed, from their original of heading down. “Research in the archives has unearthed more information about the possible whereabouts of the Crown. I caution you that these records are not official state records, but instead the personal journals of a soldier and a scribe attached to Queen Tiana’s forces at Nylan. Both journals speak of a journey into Deith to hide away an object of power—an object too powerful to be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Their journals speak of a terrible curse, though only in the most oblique of terms, and of a cave secreted deep in the woodlands sealed and concealed by magic and guarded by the ghosts of Nylan. That last phrase—‘ghosts of Nylan’—is one each use in specific.”

He swallowed, going silent for a few long moments before he blinked, then resumed. “We do not know what it means,” he said, his voice even softer now, “but it would be untoward if we did not share this information with you. Again, as always, if you garner additional information regarding this mystery, please contact Lord Dravenwood. He will be gathering additional information and compiling it as it becomes available.”

Caius straightened slightly, his hand leaving the rail to cover hers again. She glanced toward him and found him still staring out over the crowd, though his gaze was oddly distant. Her lips parted, about to ask if he was all right.

He took a breath. “That is all,” he said, his voice a murmur. “Please, enjoy my hospitality as my thanks to you for your attendance this evening and your assistance in this endeavor.”

For a few seconds, there was dead silence. Then, a ripple of applause filtered through the crowd. Caius bowed his head, closing his eyes for a moment before he stepped away from the balcony. Elaine went with him, heart thudding against her breast.

“Are you all right?” she asked in a whisper.

“I’m not sure,” he said. A shiver went through him as they stepped into the shadows. For a second, he leaned against her.

Then his form flickered, as if there was a problem with his internet connection.

“Cay?” Elaine held tighter to his arm, as if that would help stabilize him.

He looked up to meet her gaze. It was haunted—and afraid.

Then he vanished completely.

Twenty

“Has it really been his entire life?”

The question was softly spoken, unexpected and a little jarring. Jason swallowed hard, setting down his coffee mug. He leaned back, regarding Elaine with a measuring look, brow furrowing.

How does she know?

The previous day was just a series of jagged moments in his memory. Lingering in bed and making love with Joslyn. His phone ringing non-stop. Answering. Marissa on the phone, telling him it was back, that Peter was sick again, asking where he was, saying he needed to come home. Panic. Elaine telling him not to go, that his brother wanted him to stay.

He’d talked to Peter later. His brother had sounded exhausted but had repeated what Elaine had said—that he wanted him to stay where he was, at least for now.

“It’s time for you to live a little,” Peter had told him. “Take a chance, little brother. Don’t worry about me. What happens to me happens whether you’re here or not. Stay there—stay with her. You love her. Don’t screw that up.”

Jason didn’t think leaving would have screwed anything up, but if Peter wanted him to stay, he’d stay—at least a little longer. He hadn’t had a vacation since the one he’d taken a few weeks after getting out of the service years before. This was his break—such as it was.

He glanced toward Joslyn for a second and felt a little warmer. As breaks went, it definitely wasn’t bad. His gaze shifted back to Elaine. “That’s quite a question when you haven’t even had a cup of coffee this morning.”

One corner of her mouth curved into a faint smile. “It’s just been bothering me all night,” she said, heading for the coffeemaker on the counter. “Ever since he and I talked.”

Jason nodded slowly, watching her. “Then you did talk.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, for a couple hours. Maybe longer. I think I kind of lost track of time.”

“He has that effect on people.” Jason idly reached for Joslyn’s hand and found it readily, her fingers warm and strong as they squeezed his. “Peter can be pretty engaging when he tries.”

Elaine nodded slowly. Joslyn squeezed his hand again.

“You haven’t answered her question,” Joslyn said. “Honestly, I’d kind of like to know, too. You’re pretty worried about him.”

“I am,” Jason admitted. “But he also told me to stay and I intend to.”

Elaine slid into a chair at the table, a mug cradled between her hands. “So has it been?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, at least as far back as I can remember. It’s, uhm, it’s why he and I are estranged from our parents. Marissa still talks to them a little but not about us. They kind of lost the privilege of being a part of our lives because of some stuff they did when we were younger.”

“You’re estranged from your parents?” Joslyn asked, brow furrowing. “I mean, I knew they weren’t a part of your lives but I thought they were just…gone, you know?”

“That’s because it’s hard to explain. It’s easier to just gloss it and leave it be.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Elaine said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Talking about that kind of stuff can be shitty.”

“That’s one word for it,” Jason said, then managed to smile. “Complicated and painful and confusing kind of fits this one better.” He sighed, brushing his thumb across Joslyn’s knuckles. “Peter and I were legally emancipated from our parents when were teenagers. There was a trust involved that was earmarked for us and my parents were basically dipping into it for Peter’s medical treatment without any of our consent against the terms of the trust. That was the case we made in court—the larger chunk of it, anyway.” He smiled sadly and shook his head. “The real problem that Peter had—and I guess a little bit of Marissa, too—was the fact that our parents kind of ignored I existed. He was everything and I…I guess he felt like they treated me like I was nothing and honestly, I’m not sure how wrong he was in hindsight. They were always hyper focused on him. Marissa basically raised me. Uncle Ezacaius helped when he was around but he really wasn’t around much because he was working all the time. He helped with the emancipation, too.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “So we were legally on our own when I was sixteen and Peter was seventeen. He’s was already halfway through a bachelor’s by then. I was still in high school.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were that close in age,” Joslyn said softly. “For some reason I always thought he was older.”

“Well, he is Doctor Peter Grey,” Jason said with a crooked smile. “Genius-level intelligence does that kind of crazy shit. A lot of the heavy lifting and developing that went into the tech we’re using for Universe came from his dissertation project.”

“He said he wanted it to help people,” Elaine said, staring down into her coffee.

Jason nodded. “Yeah. He’s been working on some things as a side project to the game on the down-low, stuff to maybe help veterans and other victims of traumatic injury with physical and mental recovery. It’s important to him to make a difference and give a little back. Or a lot, if you ask some people.”

For a few seconds, he stared off into space, thoughts drifting to a conversation now a year past, when he’d gone looking for his brother to tell him it was time to come eat dinner. It was Thanksgiving, and Peter had quietly snuck off to Brannon’s office to snag a little bit of peace from the crowds that had descended on Marissa’s house for dinner. Their uncle had been there for once, their parents decidedly not in deference to both Peter and Jason—and to a greater or lesser extent, their uncle, too. He’d found Peter sitting near a window, notebook in hand, jotting something down in his tiny, neat handwriting, the page already half full of calculations and notes. Jason had asked him what he was doing and Peter had just smiled and shook his head.

“A dream,” he’d said. “Something beyond the boundaries of a game but built on the game to help people who need it the most. Not ready yet, but someday. Someday, Jason.”

“We hire a lot of vets,” he said quietly, almost as an afterthought. “About half my team are, then a bunch of the programmers, a couple of the GMs. Marissa’s got a few on her business team, a couple in HR. It just—we try but in some ways it doesn’t feel like enough.” He thought back to Zander and the first time his friend had tried out the immersion functionality of the game. He could still remember the look on the artist’s face. It had been a year since he’d walked at that point, and the game had let him run. For someone who’d been an athlete in high school and was facing the very real possibility of never standing again, let alone walking, that had meant the world. That had been the first time he’d really begun to understand what Peter was trying to accomplish with his side project. Things had started to click, slowly but surely.

“Is that because of you?” Joslyn asked softly.

Jason shook his head. “Not entirely. It was something important to us, though. Brannon’s brother and dad did stints in the RAF and one of our uncles that we never see was in the service, too, but Mom never talked about what he was doing or when, just that he had. Then there was me.”

“You guys are incredible,” Elaine said softly. “You know that, right? Everything you’ve done so far with Universe and the technology and everything? It’s insane, it’s wonderful.”

He shrugged slightly. “It’s just something we set out to do—Rissa and Brannon and Peter and I. And we did it.” He swallowed hard, reaching for his mug and gulping down a deep swallow of coffee before he trusted himself to speak. “Peter keeps saying it’s his legacy—the thing he wants to pass down to our niece and any other kids that Rissa and Brannon have, any family I eventually have. He never talks about having a family himself.”

The lump in his throat was so huge it threatened to choke him. He gulped down more coffee, trying to swallow the lump down with it. It helped, but it didn’t go away. You couldn’t just drink away feelings, no matter how much people tried with the beverages of their choice or just the beverages at hand.

Joslyn’s fingers tightened around his for a few seconds and he exhaled, glancing at her. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of pain pass through Elaine’s expression, one she smothered quickly. She stood up, heading for the counter, where she stood for a few seconds before she opened a cabinet and got down a plate. Jason watched her as she took out some bread, the butter, started making herself toast.

His lips thinned.

Peter reached out to her. That never happens.

“I’m not going to let him quit,” he said quietly. The statement was for himself, but mostly for her. “I never really say it, but I think he knows. He just smiles at me when I answer. I don’t know what he believes anymore.” That part was at least a little bit of a lie. He didn’t know, but he suspected.

It just hurt to think about what he suspected.

“Good,” Elaine said after a few seconds of silence. “Because I don’t want him to.”

“Neither do I,” Jason said softly.

“How have you guys managed to keep all of this a secret?” Joslyn asked softly. “How is it that no one knows?”

“Think about it,” Jason said quietly. “How much does anyone really know about us, Joss? Yeah, we’re out there on the internet talking about what we’re trying to do, talking about our goals and the game and maybe a little bit about us, but how much does everyone really know?”

“Only as much as you’ve been willing to reveal,” Elaine said, leaning against the counter, watching them. “We know that you were a soldier who served in the Gulf. We know that Marissa and Brannon met in England and got married in Ontario. We know Peter’s a genius with a Ph.D in computer science and technology. We know it’s a family business and you aim for it to stay that way and what you guys want to do is make games that speak to people and touch them in ways that most games don’t. You’re not in it for the money—you’re in it for the joy.”

Jason nodded slowly. “And you know that because we’ve told you. The rest? We keep that under wraps. If you hadn’t seen one or two very specific casts, you don’t know that my niece exists, let alone ever seen her. You don’t know what I told you about our parents, you don’t know about Brannon’s family—you just know very specific slices of information, things that we’ve told you—and nothing else. It’s by design. It’s to protect us—to keep things that should be private, private.”

“Makes sense,” Elaine said softly. “Moreso now, given what your brother told me.”

“How much did he tell you?” Jason asked, stomach sinking for a second before it righted itself.

“He told me what happens. What happened.”

Jason winced and exhaled. “Oh.”

“I don’t like that look,” Joslyn said, studying him. “What did happen? You said that something changed when I asked you last night after you talked to him.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “What we thought was nothing was actually something. His neurologist was wrong. Doesn’t happen often but at the same time we kind of fooled ourselves.”

“He said the same thing to me,” Elaine said. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

“For what?” He glanced up at her, brow furrowing. “You didn’t do anything to us, Elaine. You did what he asked and he was right. My being there isn’t going to change anything, not right now. I just—I worry about him. He’s my big brother and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

There was that lump, that tightness, the dread that coiled in his belly and left his stomach sour. There it was again, rearing its head as he once again confronted the fact that his brother was sick, that they never knew what was going to happen. Every day was one day at a time—and every day was a gift to all of them.

“He said you don’t know how or why he got it or even what it is,” Elaine said softly. “Is that really true?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. It’s a mystery that even after more than twenty years, we can’t figure it out. Our parents couldn’t, his doctors haven’t been able to, and I don’t know that we have a prayer of ever sorting it out. There’s no evident triggers, no real reason it seems to flare up, it just does and there’s nothing we’ve ever been able to do to change or stop it. We treat the symptoms and hope.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “And every time we hope it doesn’t come back this time, that there’s not a next time it flares up because damn it all, he doesn’t deserve to go through this hell. He’s never hurt anyone in his life. It’s just not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, though,” Elaine whispered, then turned away again. “He’s sweet, though. Your brother. He seems that way, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Jason murmured. “Yeah, he is. He’s a good guy.”

Elaine nodded and said nothing. Jason swallowed, glancing at Joslyn. She shrugged. Apparently, she didn’t know what to make of the statement, either. At the same time, that moment didn’t seem the right one to press, to ask Elaine to elaborate.

Jason kept watching Elaine for a few seconds more as she finished fixing her toast and then joined them at the table. She met his gaze as she settled in, picking up a piece of toast. “He seems a little lonely.”

“He is.”

She nodded and didn’t say anything else. What had Peter said to her when she’d talked to him in the game the day before?

Did it matter?

Maybe, just maybe, it didn’t.

“So what do we do now?” Joslyn asked, swirling her coffee in her mug. “With…everything?”

“We keep on keeping on,” Jason murmured. “That’s what he wants, so that’s what we’ll do. No one can know outside of the family and us. That’s how this works. That’s how he’s always planned it. We’ll figure it out.”

There was a little part of him that was glad that for once, though, they wouldn’t have to figure it out alone.

Nineteen

Her boots echoed hollowly against the stone steps as she climbed upward toward Caius’s rooms in the tower. Her heart was going at twice its normal speed and was lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. She didn’t know what she would say to him, or what he’d say to her. She didn’t know what this explanation would hold.

All she knew was that his brother was hurting probably more deeply than he knew, that Jason felt betrayed and lost and abandoned, all because his brother hadn’t told him himself that something was going on, that something had gone wrong.

Elaine hoped that she’d been right about it being something that had changed, not something that Peter Grey had known about before he’d told his brother to go, to come to Michigan to finally meet the girl he’d been talking to for months, the girl he’d fallen in love with. She hoped that Jason’s deepest fears hadn’t been realized—fears, she didn’t think Jason had even realized he had until that moment in her kitchen.

The door at the top of the stairs was closed, but when she tried it, it was unlocked. She didn’t bother to knock, just walked inside. Caius was there, standing by a door to a balcony at one end of the room, staring through its windows at the world outside, or perhaps at his own reflection in the glass. Elaine closed the door gently behind her, watching him for a few seconds. Her heart slowed but her throat tightened even more.

Somehow, she could tell he was tired and it had nothing to do with the game—it had everything to do with life.

“Real talk,” she said, her voice half a whisper as she locked the door. “Out of character.”

“Real talk,” he agreed, his voice quiet. “Out of character.”

He turned and she could see the tears on his face, his eyes red and puffy, as if he’d been crying for a long time. He leaned a shoulder against the French doors to the balcony, watching her as she stood frozen, her hand still on the lock.

“I’m sorry,” he said before she could say anything. “I didn’t see another way.”

“You couldn’t have called him yourself?”

Caius squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No.”

She wanted to ask why, but the words died on her tongue as she stared at him. His shoulders were slumped, his expression slack. Her hand fell away from the door and she moved toward him. The only sound was their breathing and the wind outside, even the sound of her footfalls was muffled by the thick rug spread across the floor of his sitting room.

“Talk to me,” she said, the whispered request almost a plea. “Please.”

“That’s why I asked you to come,” he admitted, reaching to take her hands. “Because I wanted to. I needed to. I needed someone to hear me and not judge and help me figure this out. I—I thought—” he broke off as his fingers closed around hers. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Maybe I thought wrong. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you my messenger, Isolde.”

“Elaine,” she said.

His eyes popped open. “What?”

“My name is Elaine,” she said, watching his eyes, his face. “And yours is Peter.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

His fingers were cold around hers. Elaine wet her lips, taking half a step closer, still holding his gaze. “Talk to me,” she said, her voice stronger than she thought it would be. “What’s going on? Jason is freaking out a little bit. He said your sister called and talked about a neurologist and was trying to figure out why you would have lied to him.”

“I didn’t lie to him,” Caius—Peter—said to her, shaking his head. “I didn’t. When he and I talked about it on Thursday, I told him the truth. My neurologist didn’t think it was anything.”

“And now something’s changed,” Elaine said.

He nodded. “Yeah. And it sucks.”

“What’s going on?” she asked again. He exhaled, leaning back against the doors.

“I don’t know,” he said, and somehow she knew he was telling the truth. “I really don’t know. I’ve—” he broke off, sighing. “This is where shit gets complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Just what I said,” he murmured. “This is where shit gets complicated.”

She watched him for a few seconds, then asked, “Should we go sit down?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we probably should.”

She nodded, then took him by the hand and drew him toward two chairs near the fireplace. He didn’t sit in one of those chairs, though—he sat down on the floor, cross-legged, staring at the flickering flames. She drifted after him, sitting down alongside him, tucking one leg up underneath her and drawing her other knee to her chest. He stayed quiet for a few moments, just watching the fire, and she let him take the time he needed to gather his thoughts, to put some organization to whatever chaos was raging inside his head.

“I’ve been sick my entire life,” he finally said, the words coming as a low murmur. His gaze never wavered from the flames. “It started when I was little and just kept coming back no matter what anyone did. It’s a neurological thing that no one can seem to figure out. There’s no predicting when it’ll come or when it’ll go away. When it does go away, no one ever knows how long it’s going to stay away. Everything’s a crapshoot. Usually it puts me down pretty hard and it’s only gotten worse as I’ve gotten older, but the remissions seemed to be longer, at least for a while. It’s…” he trailed off. She reached over and took his hand, squeezing gently. Only then did he glance over at her and smile, though weakly. “It’s hard. Jason’s always been there, and our sister, too. They suffer right alongside me but different because they don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what’s going to happen. When my neurologist told me on Thursday that she didn’t think it was anything, I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe her so badly.”

“But something changed today,” she said softly.

He nodded and his shoulders slumped slightly. “I woke up with a migraine. I was getting ready to go into work anyway because that’s what I do. Sometimes they happen and they don’t always mean something.” He closed his eyes. “The last thing I remembered happening before eight o’clock in the morning was staring to make a cup of coffee. I came to on my kitchen floor at nine.”

“You passed out?”

“Something like that,” he said. “It might have been a seizure. I’m not sure and no one else was there so there’s no way to know and my memory’s too fuzzy about all of it to figure it out. Usually I can tell the difference. This time, I couldn’t and that scared me. It scared me a lot.” He sighed. “I called my brother-in-law to take me in. My sister came with him.” He swallowed turning back to the fire. “It’s flaring up again and I don’t know what I’m going to do or how bad it’s going to be this time. I just—I just have to work through it for as long as I can. There’s still so much I want to do, that I want to accomplish. I can’t just lay back and relax and whatever the hell else my neurologist is going to try to make me do. I can’t stop living because I’m fighting this bullshit again—and I don’t want anyone else to, either.”

Elaine tried to swallow past a lump in her throat. His hand rested on his knee and she reached for it, weaving her fingers through his and squeezing gently. He bowed his head. A tear caught the fire’s glow as it fell, dropping from his lashes to soak into the linen of his loose pants.

She leaned toward him and wrapped her arms around him. He reached up, wrapping his fingers around one of her arms, resting his chin against her wrist.

“I shouldn’t have made you my messenger,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I just thought—if I talked to Jason myself, Elaine, he would have argued me down and he’s where he needs to be—where I really need him to be. There’s nothing he can do for me here right now. He needs to be where he is. She’s his future. In my heart of hearts, I know it even if he doesn’t yet. I just know it.” He shook his head a little. “Everything’s just too raw right now and we don’t know enough—I don’t know enough about how this is going to go. I knew that Marissa would call. I knew she would. I didn’t want her to, told her not to, but I knew she wasn’t going to listen, not about that. As angry as it makes me sometimes that she’ll just do shit like that, I understand it.”

“Marissa’s your sister,” she said softly. He nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, older than the two of us. She’s the business brain. The rest of us are the creative ones and the programming, the tech. She’s the one that keeps shit real. She always has.” Another tear slipped free, dropped onto her wrist.

She held him a little tighter, heart aching. “So what happens now?” It was hard to ask the question. He might not even have a real answer, and even if he did, he might not want to tell her. He barely knew her, after all.

And yet he’d reached out to her.

That means something, right?

“My neurologist and I work out a course of treatment,” he murmured. “Something I can hopefully handle. We hope that we can mitigate symptoms until my nervous system settles down and decides to function normally again. Every time it happens, we don’t know how it’s going to go.”

“What kind of stuff are we talking?” she asked, brow furrowing. Her head rested against his. He was warm, leaning against her now, body starting to relax slowly but surely. “What are you facing?”

“Probably hell,” he murmured. “My nervous system malfunctions. Things stop working. Things misfire. Cognitive function always seems to be fine but everything else? Everything else has a very distinct possibility of being really screwed up.” He swallowed hard. “When I was fifteen, I ended up on life support for two weeks before my brain remembered that breathing was a thing I needed to do so I could keep living. When I was twelve, I lost motor function all along the left side of my body. They thought I’d had a stroke but I didn’t show any signs of anything burst or shit like that. Stuff had just stopped working. Severe synesthesia when I was eleven. I could taste colors and see sounds and the migraines almost gave me a literal aneurism. Seizures that just kept coming when I was five. Nothing could stop them and there was no predicting when they’d hit. A couple years ago, around the time my niece was born, it got bad again. I was bedridden and trapped in my own head for a month. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t do anything. I was on life support again then, too, because my heart kept stopping. They couldn’t tell if it was from pain or my nervous system misfiring or microseizures or something else. That’s how bad it can get and even after all this time, we’re nowhere near figuring out what’s caused it and how to stop it. All we can do is watch and treat the symptoms as shit happens.”

She stayed silent, struggling to breath around the tightness of her throat. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, too, the two of them just staring at the fire.

“I just wish I had answers,” he finally said. “I wish I knew what caused it because then maybe we’d be able to figure out how to fix it.”

“I am so sorry,” she breathed. He shook his head slightly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It just is. There’s nothing I can do that’s going to change it, I just have to hang on, push through, wait and see what happens.”

He was much more relaxed now, almost slumped against her, the tension that had been there when she’d arrived gone. It was like somehow a weight had been lifted even though she knew a new one had settled over him—now she knew and there was an open question of what that would end up meaning in the long term.

“If anyone should be sorry, it should be me,” he said, gazing at the fire. “You didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” she agreed. “No, I didn’t. But it’s okay. I’d rather know than be in the dark, I think.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, was it was kind of rough playing the messenger for you? Yeah, a little. But at least now I know why I did it and why Jason’s upset. Stuff makes a lot more sense now.”

“And I haven’t scared you off?” He looked at her now, gaze searching hers. For a second, she tried to remember what color his eyes were supposed to be and found that she couldn’t even as she fell into his gaze. “You’re not ready to…I don’t know. Run screaming?”

“No,” she said. “No, in fact, if anything, it makes me want to get to know you better.”

“You sure about that?”

She smiled crookedly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Her arms tightened around him slightly and he sighed, relaxing into them, gaze finally drifting back to the fire. She rested her head against his again, watching the flames as they flickered and danced, the logs crackling softly, breaking up as the fire burned. It was warm and comfortable here, cozy, somewhere she wouldn’t mind lingering despite the hard floor beneath the plush rug. Even that didn’t seem so bad.

“Where are you right now?” she whispered. “Physically?”

“At home,” he murmured. “Marissa wouldn’t hear it when I wanted to go back to the office. They dropped me off at home. I’m in bed with my VR rig. Migraine hasn’t quite gone away, but it’s better, at least.” He paused. “Is that so you can tell my brother?”

“Partially,” she admitted. “It was partially because I was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. Worry you.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Every so often, a little worry’s good.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. His thumb brushed over her arm gently where he held onto her wrist. “Thank you for coming.”

“You asked,” she said.

“I know. But you didn’t have to. I just—I hoped you would.”

“Occasionally, we get what we hope for,” she said softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

They lapsed into silence again, staring at the fire. His thumb kept stroking her arm. Somehow, for some reason, it felt good, felt right.

“I made this so I’d have somewhere to escape to,” he said in a faint whisper after what seemed like a long time. “All of this—everything we’ve done at GreySoft, it’s a sick child’s dream. A place where people can be free and not worry about anything outside. Where they can live in ways they never thought possible.” He wet his lips. “It’s been worth it, I think.”

“Is that the story behind it?” she asked, stomach feeling hollow. “That’s really why?”

After a bare moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah. I thought it could help people. Maybe it can. I hope so.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about there.”

He glanced at her and smiled, settling further into her arms. She smiled back, squeezing him gently.

They sat there together by the fire for a long, long time.

Eighteen

On the table, laying between her cup of coffee, her notebook, and the text she was working with, Elaine’s phone buzzed. Both she and Hadrian glanced up from their research. Hadrian’s brow arched. Elaine set down her pen and picked up her phone, frowning slightly. It was the Universe app, telling her she had a message. One corner of her mouth curled up into a smile.

Hadrian noticed. “Message from someone?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, swiping her finger across her phone’s screen to open the app and the message.

“From the one you’ve been talking to?”

Elaine nodded, her smile fading as she started to read the message.

I’m breaking my own rules in reaching out like this, but I don’t have a choice. Real talk, out of character. Don’t let him leave. Tell him I said to stay. It’s okay. Tell him I said it. He’ll try to leave. I need him to stay and he needs it, too.

He’d signed it Caius, but it didn’t matter who he’d signed it as, not really. It confirmed what she suspected without him even giving his real name.

“What’s the matter?” Hadrian asked, watching her. He’d evidently noticed her expression change, though she wasn’t quite sure what it looked like now, only knew that she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Just a strange message,” she said quietly.

“From him?”

She nodded. “I—I think I need to go home.”

“Is everything all right?” Oddly, he didn’t sound quite as alarmed as she expected.

“I don’t know,” she said, knowing it was the honest answer, the only really honest answer she could give. “But I think I need to find out.”

“Are you all right?” Hadrian asked, his voice more gentle.

“I don’t know,” she said again, staring at her phone for a few seconds more before she started packing up her things. “I guess I’ll have to find out.”

“You’re worried.”

She managed to smile. “Usually.”

That, at least, made him laugh. He watched her as she packed up her things, laughter fading after a few seconds. “Trust him,” he finally said, softly, almost too quiet for her to hear. She paused, staring at him for a few seconds.

“Trust him?” she echoed, her voice as soft as his.

Hadrian nodded. Her brows knit.

“Hadrian—”

“Have I ever led you wrong before?”

Her mouth dried up. She shook her head. “No.”

“Then trust him,” he said gently. “It’s okay.” He paused, eyes glazing for a half a second before he added, “But hurry.”

Elaine swallowed hard and nodded. She slung her bag across her body and bolted, practically sprinting down the stairs and out into the gathering clouds of an October afternoon. It was trying to turn blustery, as Octobers did. Hopefully any sort of rain would wait until she made it home, though the wind was picking up considerably and the clouds had a concerning look to them.

I just want to make it home before the heavens open up.

With a grimace, she sprinted toward her car, parked in a lot far enough from the library that she worried that she might not make it before the rain started. A shiver wracked her as the wind gusted up, bile rising in her throat.

Trust him.

Hadrian really hadn’t ever steered her wrong before, but how did he know?

Does it matter?

She threw herself into the front seat of her car just as the first few fat drops of rain spattered against her windshield. A mumbled curse escaped her lips as she started the engine. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Somehow, she knew this storm was going to be a doozy—she could feel it.

I just need to get home before it gets worse.

She wasn’t sure how much worse it was going to get, but again, her gut told her there was reason enough for concern. Caius’s note and Hadrian’s words coupled with the storm had left her that much of an impression.

She sped out of the parking lot, down the street toward home, heart beating faster than usual but not too fast. Her windshield wipers whipped back and forth as more rain joined those first few drops. It was a hard rain, sounding like pellets pounding against her car’s roof. For a few seconds, she wondered if it was actually hail, but she couldn’t see anything but rain falling through her windshield.

She left her research in the car when she arrived home, bolting with only her jacket and her phone to her front porch. Elaine fumbled with her keys as thunder rumbled again, lightning forking through the sky somewhere high above. Another shiver wracked her. Had the temperature dropped, or was it just her imagination?

At this point, it was anyone’s guess.

She unlocked the door. The house was quiet as she dropped her keys on the table in the foyer. “Joss? Jason?”

No answer, though she could hear faint sounds from Joslyn’s room. She started to breathe a little easier. Nothing seemed wrong.

Maybe it’s preemptive? Maybe there’s nothing wrong.

Elaine exhaled and glanced toward the slider out to the patio, watching the rain fall in torrents. Thunder rumbled, nearer now, its depth rattling the plates and glasses in the cupboard.

She shivered again and was glad that she’d made it home in time.

Losing half a day’s worth of plowing through materials, though. Elaine shrugged slightly. Maybe Hadrian was right, maybe she needed to allow herself that kind of break—maybe she needed to give herself permission not to feel guilty about it, too.

Either way, she wasn’t going out in the storm to get the research she’d left in the car. That was going to have to wait until later, one way or another. She tugged her phone out of her pocket, setting it on the edge of the kitchen counter as she started to shrug out of her jacket. Faintly, as she ducked back into the foyer to hang up her jacket, she heard her phone buzz again on the counter, then heard it hit the floor.

Shit. I should’ve set it a little further in. Hope I didn’t crack my screen.

Ducking back into the kitchen, she scooped her phone up from the floor, checking her screen for cracks—it had already gone dark; whatever had caused it to vibrate hidden. Upstairs, she heard the floor creak and a second later, Jason’s voice.

“What?”

That doesn’t sound good. Elaine stuffed her phone into her back pocket, heading for the stairs. She could still hear his voice, though muffled enough that she couldn’t make out the words as she jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in her haste. She heard Joslyn asking what was wrong—at least, that’s what she assumed the question was from the cadence of her friend’s voice. Jason didn’t answer—it sounded like he might be on the phone. Elaine frowned as she moved down the hall toward the bedroom.

I have a bad feeling about this. Christ, do I ever have a bad feeling about this.

What the hell is going on?

She reached back to grab her phone when the door to the bedroom opened and Jason came out, dressed in only his shorts, his complexion ashen. Joslyn was on his heels, but they both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of her standing in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Elaine asked, looking Jason dead in the eye. “What happened?”

Jason shook his head, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and started walking again, twisting to move past her toward the stairs. “I have to go.”

Elaine glanced at Joslyn, whose lips were drawn together tightly in a pale line across her face. Her friend shook her head slightly and Elaine frowned, then turned to follow Jason, already halfway down the stairs.

“Jason, wait.”

“I need to eat something, I need to get dressed, and I need to go,” he said, headed for the fridge. There were scars on his back from who knew what, a tattoo of a compass over a sword on the back of his left shoulder blade. “Something happened at home,” he said a second later, as if a peace offering after failing to answer her initial question.

“He said not to let you go.”

Jason froze, standing with the refrigerator door open, his hand wrapped around the carton of milk. Slowly, he straightened again, shoving the milk back onto the shelf as he twisted to look at her. “What?”

“Your brother said not to let you go,” she said. “I got a message from him. That’s why I rushed home—he said he broke his rules to send the message.”

Joslyn’s fingers tangled in the sleeve of Elaine’s sweater as she gripped her friend’s arm. “Jason, what is going on?”

His expression crumpled slightly, brow creasing in distress even as his jaw hung slightly agape, his breathing abruptly ragged as he closed the fridge and stumbled to a chair. He dropped into it heavily, tossing his phone onto the table with a faint clatter. “He lied to me,” he whispered, staring blankly at the edge of the table—through the edge of the table, the look Elaine had heard called a thousand yard stare. Joslyn’s fingers tightened around her arm.

“Who did?” Joslyn whispered.

“My brother.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Peter lied to me. He said everything was okay.”

The two women exchanged a look. Elaine nudged Joslyn toward the table and headed for the counter, intending to make a pot of coffee. Joslyn didn’t go to the table right away, instead turning to snag a blanket from the back of a chair in the living room. She wrapped it around Jason’s shoulders before she drew a chair up in front of him, sitting in it so their knees touched. Elaine watched as her friend took his hands and squeezed.

“Jason, talk to me,” Joslyn said softly. “Please.”

“He lied and he said everything was okay,” Jason said again, leaning forward. Joslyn leaned forward, too, and their foreheads touched. Elaine only watched for another second before she turned around, staring a pot of coffee. “He said it was a false alarm.”

“I don’t get it,” Joslyn said softly. “What’re you talking about? What kind of false alarm?”

Elaine’s phone buzzed in her pocket again and she winced, staring at the coffee pot. She tugged her phone out, glancing at Joslyn and Jason. Joslyn’s fingers were tangled up in Jason’s, squeezing so hard her knuckles had gone white. She couldn’t quite tell from this angle, but she thought there might be tears on Jason’s cheek.

She swallowed hard and looked away again, checking her phone.

Two more messages from the game—two more messages that could only have come from him.

What the hell is going on?

Leaning against the counter, she swiped a finger across the first message.

I will tell you everything, the message said. Just don’t let him leave. He needs to be there not here. Tell him.

Then, the second: I need to talk to you. Soon. I’m sorry.

Elaine exhaled a shaky sigh and straightened, putting her phone away before she started getting down three coffee mugs. “Just breathe, Jason,” she said quietly, gathering the mugs and the jar of sugar, some spoons from the drawer and the creamer from the refrigerator. “Try to calm down.”

He sucked in one rasping breath, then another, shaking his head slowly. As Elaine set her cargo down on the table, she could see that yes, those were tears on Jason’s cheeks. She winced.

Why did you make me the messenger? Why can’t you do this yourself?

He looked up at her, tears sparkling in his lashes, rimming his eyes like jewels that sparkled in what little light the storm outside hadn’t stolen yet. “What exactly did he say to you?” Jason asked, his voice little more than a whisper, so full of anguish and pain that it made Elaine’s own heart ache.

“He said it’s okay,” Elaine told him, her voice soft. “He needs you to stay and you need you to stay. That’s what he said. He said he broke his own rules to reach out to me but it was important.”

“Why didn’t he just call me himself?” Jason stared at the floor for a few seconds. Joslyn leaned further forward, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight. Elaine swallowed hard and turned away to get the coffee.

“Can I see it?” Jason asked as she turned away.

She glanced back as she reached the counter, picked up the carafe. “See what?”

“The message he sent you,” Jason said. “Can I see it?”

Elaine nodded. She brought the coffee over, set down the carafe, dug her phone out of her pocket. She handed it to Jason and then started to pour the coffee. Hunching, Jason opened the app, then the first message she’d gotten that day from Caius—from Peter. From his brother.

From the fucking founding force behind GreySoft. Fuck me what the hell is going on?

She stole a glance at him as he read the message—he must have read it twice, because he was looking at it for what felt like a long time. His lips thinned and he carefully set her phone down on the edge of the table, the hand that had been holding it covering his eyes. His shoulders shook and then Joslyn was hugging him again. He wrapped his arms around her, buried his face against her neck.

Elaine gently set down a cup of coffee near him and took her phone back. Joslyn looked up at her, a question in her eyes.

“Caius and I have been talking,” Elaine said as she poured another cup of coffee, this one for Joslyn. “Ever since the other night.”

“I thought that was all in character stuff,” Joslyn said, her voice barely audible. “What’s going on?”

“It was,” Elaine said. “Today that changed. I don’t know what’s going on, but—” she stopped, looking at Jason for a few seconds, leaning against Joslyn, his arms tight around her. “—but he said he’d explain everything. I just got the message right before you guys came out of your room.”

“My sister called,” Jason said, his voice muffled and raw. He turned his head so he could just barely see Elaine, his eyes already bloodshot. “She said that Peter had gone back to the hospital this morning to see his neurologist. That they were talking about courses of action and plans and about what was going on.” Jason exhaled, shaking his head. “He told me the day we launched full-immersion that it was nothing, that it was a false alarm and that his doctor had given him some anti-seizure meds and told him he needed to take it easy. I believed him.” He exhaled, shoulders slumping even as his arms tightened around Joslyn, wrapped around her waist. “I’m such an idiot. Why did I believe him?”

“Because he’s your brother,” Joslyn said. “Because you guys love each other and why wouldn’t you believe him.”

Jason exhaled a shaky sigh. Elaine slowly set down Joslyn’s cup of coffee, then started filling one for herself.

“Maybe he didn’t know,” Elaine said softly. “Maybe something changed after you left.”

“Then why didn’t he call?” Jason asked. “Why would he leave me in the dark? He always calls, always tells me. Why wouldn’t he have done that this time?”

Elaine looked at him, then her gaze slid over to Joslyn, then back again. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

He swore under his breath, closing his eyes again. “Of course. Of fucking course. My big brother, always trying to take care of me when no one else will.”

“Not no one,” Joslyn said. Jason took a deep breath, straightening to look at her. He smiled weakly.

“No,” he agreed. “Not no one. He sent me to someone he knew would.” He reached up, brushing some of Joslyn’s hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear as his thumb brushed along her cheek and jaw. “If you’re right, Elaine, he at least must have suspected something.” He swallowed hard again, then sighed. “And I know he did—and so did I. I just let him convince me—let me convince me—that it really was nothing. Just a false alarm. We fooled ourselves for a few minutes into believing everything was fine.” Another shaking breath, another exhale. He shook his head. “We let ourselves believe what we wanted to believe, what we needed to believe, but we were wrong. We were wrong and that’s what hurts the most.”

Seventeen

Jason closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of Joslyn’s hair. He lay on his back with his arms wrapped tightly around her, her head nestled against his neck and jaw as she lay half on top of him, half next to him. Sunlight slanted through her blinds and he stared at the shafts of light as they played against the walls of her bedroom. She was still fast asleep, or asleep again—he wasn’t sure if she’d been there when he’d woken up early in the morning when he’d heard his phone buzzing on the bedside table with a text message from his brother.

Stay as long as you need to. That’s what Peter had needed him to know at five in the morning. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his brother was awake at the early hour—four AM back home—since Peter’s sleep patterns had always been strange, even when they were kids. That was the way it had always been and Jason didn’t see much chance of it changing.

Now, hours later, he lay awake with Joslyn in his arms, wondering not why his brother had been up so early in the morning, but why his brother felt like he needed to tell him that again at that very moment.

Did something change back home? Jason frowned at the shafts of light he lay watching, shafts that faded as clouds eclipsed the sun. Joslyn was still fast asleep, comfortable and warm against him. There was something deeply comforting about her presence, about being there with her.

How long will I need to stay? He didn’t have an answer for that question. He’d been guessing he’d know when the moment would come.

Jason sighed and closed his eyes. He must have dozed, because the next thing he was aware of was Joslyn shifting against him, stirring.

“Mmm. You’re still here,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Where else would I be?” he asked softly, nose buried in her hair. “I’m right where you left me.”

“I’m always surprised,” she whispered, twisting so she was laying on her stomach, still half on top of him. One of her toes grazed the inside of his calf and Jason smiled, reaching to run his fingers through her hair. She smiled back. “I keep wondering how the hell I got lucky and met a guy like you—and how the hell I could’ve ever been so freaking stupid.”

“Stupid?” His brows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“If you hadn’t told me your name, I don’t think I ever would have told you mine. I never would have found the courage and never would have dreamed that there was anything more between us than just two characters who fell in love and players who became friends in the process.”

His heart wrenched and suddenly his throat was tight. “Joss.”

“I mean it,” she whispered. “I am so damn lucky.”

He wrapped his arms around her again, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips as she inched higher and closer, burying her fingers in his short-cropped hair. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you, I love you.”

Her tears hit his cheeks and his throat seized. All he could do was keep on kissing her, holding her tighter as she pressed closer. He shivered, heart pounding a little faster.

“I love you, too,” she breathed, kissing him back, hard, fingertips digging into his scalp. Chills shot up and down his spine, danced along his nerves.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table and he ignored it as Joslyn arched, one foot sliding along the inside of his calf, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Jason’s breath caught, his eyes coming open to stare at her.

“I want you,” she whispered, their lips nearly touching, her nose brushing against his. “I want you so badly I can almost taste it.”

“Well, you have me,” he whispered back. “You have me for as long as you want me—as long as you need me.”

“Right back at you,” she said, then leaned in to kiss him again.

Jason’s eyes slid shut. His phone buzzed again. He groped for it as he kept on kissing Joslyn, caught hold, silenced it, then dropped it. It fell somewhere on the floor, covered a few seconds later by her nightgown as she pulled it off, her hands sliding up beneath the hem of his shirt half a second later.

Nothing else mattered, just the girl who said she loved him, wanted him. He’d never had that before.

It was nice.

Whatever the call had been about, it could wait. His team would understand. Peter would understand.

Stay as long as you need to.

What if he never wanted to leave?

After the second round, they lay cuddled together in her bed, facing each other, foreheads touching, hands threaded through each other’s hair and legs tangled together beneath the covers. Joslyn was looking at him with eyes half-lidded, a faint, satisfied smile on her face.

“Wasn’t too much, was it?” he murmured to her, thumb brushing against her cheekbone.

She shook her head slightly. “Not at all. You’re incredible.”

Jason choked on a laugh and shook his head. “Not really. You sure are, though.”

Joslyn laughed, her eyes sliding closed as she shook her head. “Goddamn flatterer.”

“Just telling it like it is.”

“Liar.” She was still laughing, though, and her lips brushed against his.

On the floor, beneath discarded clothes and a spare blanket, his phone buzzed again.

Calming, Joslyn took a slow, deep breath, settling down again against him, running her foot up and down one of his calves from the midway point down to his ankle. “That thing keeps ringing. Someone must need you pretty bad.”

Jason blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s gone off at least four times since the first time,” she said. “Maybe you should answer it. They wouldn’t be this persistent if it wasn’t important, right? Whoever’s calling?”

“It might be more than one person,” he murmured. “I didn’t exactly tell my team that I’d be gone.” He started to move, unwinding his arms from her, but his phone stopped buzzing then and instead he wound his arms around her again. “I didn’t tell much of anyone.”

“Really?”

He shook his head. “Just my brother.”

“Peter,” she said softly. Jason nodded.

“Yeah. He knew something was bugging me before the event but I didn’t tell him what it was until after I told you—until after I decided.”

“Decided what? To talk to me?”

“Until after I decided to come to you,” he said. “Until after you and I planned it.”

“Oh,” she said. Her palm rested against his cheek and Jason closed his eyes for a second, sighing.

“I’m glad I did,” he whispered. “And I’m glad he didn’t think this was ridiculous—I’m glad he didn’t try to talk me out of it.”

“What did he say?”

“In essence? That it was about time.” Jason grinned. “If there’s one thing that’s important to understand about my brother, it’s that he wants to see the people around him happy, no matter what. That’s like life to him. It means everything—making people happy.”

“Your brother seems like a pretty nice guy,” Joslyn said. Her thumb brushed against his cheek and Jason was surprised to find himself crying.

When did that start?

“Peter’s probably one of the best people I’ve ever known,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, reaching up to catch her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers gently. “He’s always been there when I needed him, even when he needed someone more than I ever could. He always puts everyone else before himself.” His throat was tight and he squeezed his eyes shut against more stinging tears. Joslyn wrapped her arms around him and drew him close.

“Shh,” she soothed gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Jason. Let it out. You don’t have to pretend everything’s okay.”

“But it is,” he whispered. “Everything’s fine.”

He couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach that it wasn’t, though.

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, holding her and forcing himself to relax. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

He left his phone on the floor where it was buried, trying to convince himself that it was nothing, that it was just people calling because they didn’t know where he was. Peter knew. Peter would handle it.

He always did.

Everything’s fine. He said it was and he told me to come, and to stay.

Everything’s fine.