by Rachel Jonas
“When you overheard him telling Caleb and Ivan about it, you ripped into him pretty good, telling him how foolish and reckless he’d been. But he promptly reminded you that we’re, technically, at the top of the food chain and there wasn’t much a human could do to punish him. In other words, you lost the argument.”
Staring at the floor while I listened, I eventually smiled. “They sound like a lot of trouble.” I tried to imagine what it was like not growing up an only child, having brothers.
“And a lot of fun,” I added.
“You’re right on both accounts.”
Talking about them in my sleep was a big deal to me. It meant I had memories of my family locked away somewhere in there. They may have been buried deep, but they were there, and I don’t know, maybe I’d be able to access them one day.
Memories also meant the family Liam spoke of truly existed. They weren’t just characters created to fulfill this longing I had, a longing to know I came from someplace. Not that I thought it before, but now … they felt real.
And not just to him.
They were real to me.
Another revelation this brought with it was that I, beyond the shadow of a doubt, was exactly who Liam said I was, who I felt I’d been all along. Not some carbon copy of the Evangeline he once knew and loved, reborn as Evie—broken and missing pieces. I was still the one and only, just different due to circumstance.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Do you think it means something? That things are beginning to come back to me—speaking French, dreaming of my brothers? That I had those weird-colored flames last night?”
He breathed deep before answering. “I think several factors are forcing you to remember.”
That made sense. There was a long list of stressors at play in my life lately. From Baz and his witches stealing me from my parents’ memory, the terrible turn of events with Nick, to the looming threat of a war no one could predict the magnitude of, and … being stuck in this facility.
“Mostly, I think it’s because you’re avoiding your mother.” At Liam’s words, I turned to stare at him. “I’m not pressing,” he quickly amended. “Just trying to help you understand.”
My first instinct was to get defensive, to blurt out all the reasons I had for keeping my distance from that woman, but then I remembered how well Liam knew me. There was no need to defend my position because, if I had to guess, he’d practically read my thoughts. Besides, not once had he tried forcing me into anything. Never. Not even that first day I ran into him on Handler Street and he let me walk away. That had probably been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. So, I knew his intent wasn’t to persuade me now.
“Why do you think that’s causing it?” I asked, deciding not to dismiss his idea just because he brought up Elise’s name.
“It’s your dragon,” he stated. “That side of you has already found a way to reach out to me—getting inside my head while you sleep, making you go up in flames because it’s figured out that’ll send you running to me every time…”
I didn’t breathe while listening to him explain it all, breaking my behavior down in such a precise way. Ways I hadn’t fully accepted until this very minute.
“If I had to guess,” he went on, “I think you also, subconsciously, want to see your mother. Deep down, beneath all the anger and frustration, part of you longs for her.”
I was lost in thought when he went on.
“I think that’s why you were speaking French, her native tongue, instead of your own—Amharic.”
My eyes lifted to him again. It was becoming harder and harder to refute his logic. No matter how badly I wished I could. I didn’t want to need her for anything—emotionally or otherwise.
But I couldn’t pretend there wasn’t truth to the things Liam pointed out.
“Has she asked to speak with me again?” There was a chance she could’ve been angry. After all, I refused to meet with her when I was first invited. However, to my surprise, Liam shrugged.
“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t spoken to her since she asked us to come up for dinner.”
I frowned, confused when he revealed that he hadn’t gone up without me that night. Confused he made no attempt to communicate period. With him believing she was deceased for years, with the loss I knew he must’ve experienced after grieving her, seeing her again had to have felt like nothing short of a miracle.
And yet…
“Why?” The question tumbled from my mouth while I studied his face.
Greenish-brown eyes eventually found their way to mine and their usual certainty was no surprise, but his explanation was a completely different story.
“Because we’re in this together, Evangeline. All the way,” he added. “We’ll both go to her when you’re ready. We can ask our questions then and deal with whatever comes next. Together.”
Daily, he found new ways to amaze me with his thoughtfulness and loyalty. If I hadn’t known already that he wasn’t from this era, I wouldn’t be able to deny it now. People like him simply don’t exist in today’s world. Liam proved to me over and over again that he’s a rare breed. One of a kind.
My arms were around his neck before I could stop myself and I wasn’t even sure what made me hug him. Maybe it was a combination of everything. Maybe it was because I was always his priority and … I kind of needed to be that to someone right now.
Needed to feel like I was at the top of someone’s list, someone’s main concern instead of an afterthought.
Disposable.
There was a fleeting thought of Nick that followed this particular word and I shoved it, and him, out of my head. I wouldn’t allow either to steal this moment. Not when I needed it so badly.
Needed Liam and his unconditional … everything … so badly.
Large arms encircled me and, despite the power they held within them, he was only ever gentle when holding me, squeezing to bring me closer.
No words were exchanged between us, but who needed words with someone capable of reaching deeply enough to commune with your soul?
That’s what he did. That was us—two beings whose souls managed to seek one another and connect despite how crazy and messed up the world was. For the first time ever, I listened to that quiet voice in the back of my mind instead of silencing it. It said this was okay, latching on to him, holding on for dear life.
Yes, today that voice won, and there was no trace of regret within me. The only thing I felt was a sense of being exactly where I belonged.
—Chapter Seventeen—
Nick
The pep talk I gave myself on the way to class made it significantly easier to sit through another one of Liam’s sessions. There was no stare-down between us; no animosity. He ignored me like I mostly ignored him—only choosing not to tune his voice out because I couldn’t afford to.
Being exhausted may have helped some. I stayed up way too late, but hanging out with friends from Seaton Falls was much-needed. They felt the same way. It was evident when I looked at the clock and realized it was past two a.m. Several still lingered in our room like we didn’t have to be up in a few hours. It was worth it, though. It gave us a chance to reconnect and remind ourselves that everything hadn’t changed. We were still us. We still had each other.
Well … most of us still had each other.
Evie left so abruptly I barely felt like I saw her. She came, sat for maybe thirty minutes, and then left. I knew she didn’t feel quite connected to our clan because she had no roots in Seaton Falls, but I guess I let myself believe she was one of us. But really, she wasn’t. Her journey was adjacent to ours, but the two didn’t quite converge.
I was beginning to see that now.
As she sat, watching Liam pace and talk, I watched from several seats away. She was still beautiful, yeah, but … different than before. The distance was easily felt, but hard to accept. Our connection was growing colder by the minute and I knew the biggest hurdle between us was me.
What I am.
It made moving forward together nearly impossible and there was nothing I could do to change it.
At least, that’s how things stood for now, unless Roz and I were able to come up with a solution.
The lesson continued and I tore my gaze from Evie, keeping my eyes glued to the note pad where I jotted down whatever bits and pieces stood out from the lecture. In the seat beside me, Roz did the same. I guess some of her habits were starting to rub off on me.
There were about twenty minutes left and the words I knew Roz had been waiting to hear were finally spoken:
“Any questions?”
At the sound of Liam’s voice, her hand shot into the air, but so did about fifteen others. There was no denying how engaged we all were, seeing as how he had the answers we sought. After being buried in secrets, most were thirsty to understand the bigger picture. And he gave us that.
Perspective.
A huge grin came over his face when he saw how many wanted more info.
“What’s your question?” he asked, gesturing toward a kid seated in the back row.
The second I turned to see who he called on, Lucas shifted in his seat, doing little to conceal his frustration. Or maybe he just couldn’t. It was Errol, the one Beth seemed to be into. Even now, she’d turned almost completely to stare at him, hanging on his every word. The guy had her full attention and there was the unmistakable gleam of infatuation in her eyes. I knew it because it was the same look Lucas tended to have when looking at her.
“I’ve noticed a pattern,” Errol began, twirling a pen in his fingers while he gathered his thoughts. “Based on what I’ve seen, based on some of the stuff you’ve told us, all clans keep witches around?”
Liam nodded, confirming.
“So, I get what the lycans get out of the deal—access to magic, intel, the power to manipulate people and the elements through spells, but … what about the witches? What do they get out of it? My first thought was protection, but with some of the stories you’ve told, I’m guessing they don’t need us for that either,” he observed.
And he was right about that. The witches seemed to be able to hold their own, so his question had me curious now, too.
Liam stopped in front of his desk, leaning back against it as he gave an answer I don’t think any of us expected. Heads tilted and questions were whispered when he said one word: “Immortality.”
He gave us a moment to settle down before explaining.
“Strange, right? That witches are, seemingly, all-powerful, but haven’t found a way to live forever without the aid of a lycan.”
He stayed propped against the desk and crossed one foot over the other. “But it’s true. Nature has checks and balances even within the supernatural world. Each species has their weaknesses, their Achilles heel. For witches, there’s not a single spell or charm they can cast that will grant them eternal life, thus leaving them bound and at the mercy of the one supernatural race that can—lycans. It’s created somewhat of a codependent relationship between the two, but it’s worked for centuries.”
“It’s kind of like the mutualism between clownfish and sea anemones,” a girl on the far-left side chimed in. We all turned to face her. “Both offer the other something they need, something they wouldn’t have on their own—magic, immortality.
“In a nutshell.” Liam smiled a bit. “Thanks for the analogy.”
After that, he turned back to Errol when asked, “How’s it done? The whole … immortality thing? Is it just that the witches feed off the lycan’s energy and simply being in close proximity makes it possible in some way?”
The grin Liam bore grew darker and I understood why when he answered. He seemed to get a kick out of grossing us out.
“Yes and no,” he said first. “They do feed off lycan energy, but … literally.” Chatter picked up around the room as several added their two cents.
“Once a witch reaches the age referred to as ‘the natural end’, at roughly one-hundred years, they take up a new diet, consisting of a few small drops of lycan blood every seventy-two hours or so. It extends their lives indefinitely. As long as their supply doesn’t run out, of course.”
“Does drinking the blood sire the witches to the lycans?”
I didn’t see which kid asked this time. Someone near the door.
Liam shook his head. “No, not in the supernatural sense, but they may as well be,” he explained. “That craving for immortality has made most witches as loyal to their clan as those born into it. That can be as helpful as it is dangerous.”
I hadn’t met our clan’s witch counterparts, but I’d heard of them. There were many, but three the Elders kept closest according to Roz. She saw them at the last Council meeting—the one I missed—but she jotted their names down in one of her notebooks. They came up once when we were researching together—Lilith, Marin, and Scarlet.
Liam moved on to the next person who had their hand raised. “Yes?”
The thin girl pushed a pair of red frames up her nose. With my keen vision, I could clearly see there were no actual lenses in them. Now that we shifted, I was sure her eyes were just as sharp as mine, which made me guess she only wore them because she’d been accustomed to doing so. Even Roz had ditched hers.
Not sure why, but it made me smile. I guess it was just funny seeing all the crazy nuances that made us each so different despite our huge, glaring similarity—being shifters.
“My mom would kill me if she knew I was telling you all this, but … she’s old. Like, really freakin’ old,” the girl shared, her voice carrying a thick, quirky, southern drawl. The quiet laughter that hummed through the room when she spoke about her mother forced her to pause for a moment.
“She haled from Germany circa 1520, hopped around most of her life to avoid having to age up, but then settled in Georgia when she met my father. They decided to have my brother and I, so that changed things,” she shared before getting to the interesting part.
“Well, Mom called last night while I was finishing the reading assignment for today’s session and she asked what we’d been learning. I told her, but I also told her about you.”
At the girl’s words, Liam’s brow quirked. He must have been curious what was said right along with the rest of us.
“When I mentioned the name Reaper, she told me to, first, extend her gratitude for your bravery and alliance with the lycans, but … she also told me to ask you to share something with me, with the entire class.”
Liam smirked as his arms folded over his chest. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the question?”
The girl’s cheeks reddened as she gathered her thoughts and Liam stared her way. Most of the chicks here reacted to him just like this.
“She said to ask you about the other royals? Said it’s rumored that King Noah of Bahir Dar bore children with the original dragon?” Her voice quaked with uncertainty. Like she wasn’t positive her mother knew what she was talking about. Like she’d die if Liam said her mother was mistaken.
But he didn’t do that. The look on his face made the silence that accompanied it even more mysterious.
“… Yeah.” He paused after stammering for a moment, slowly rubbing a hand down his face. There was a look there I couldn’t place, but, in general, he seemed uncomfortable.
“So, it’s true?” the girl asked.
Liam nodded.
“My mom said there’s no record of where the original dragon came from, how she came to be, and also that it’s been mostly erased from history that these children even existed.”
Again, Liam gave a nod, but I didn’t miss the solemnity in his expression. “It’s all true. The Sovereign was careful to alter historical accounts in his favor as much as possible. I imagine it took a great deal of resources and violence to be so thorough.”
So many questions, all of them at once, came flying at him. However, one in particular stood out above the rest—another from the girl.
He heard it.
I h
eard it.
“So, is it also true you were once in love with their only daughter?”
The room was dead silent again.
The girl in the red frames shied away from Liam’s hard stare, maybe thinking she said something wrong.
“Well … ‘in love’ wasn’t the exact term my mom used,” Red Frames backtracked. “She called it tethered and … I wasn’t really sure what that meant and just … assumed…”
Silence.
Except one sound: Evie’s heart pounding like an entire drumline.
But, unlike I normally would have, I didn’t turn toward her. Instead, my vision narrowed into a tunnel and it was like I was alone in that room. Several scenes and incidents from the last couple months came flooding in at once, fitting into what I now knew to be their rightful place. They created a picture I hadn’t even realized existed.
Tethered.
That was the word Evie used to explain her connection to Liam, which meant … she was the daughter of the king. The one Red Frames just mentioned.
Evie breathed wildly while gripping the edge of her desk, afraid to move. She, too, was a hybrid—born of a lycan and a dragon—but I had no idea she was … royalty?
But the evidence was all there, in black and white, and it changed everything. If her real father was alive somewhere, it meant the Sovereign was not the sole ruler. If the other king wasn’t alive, it meant …
It meant Evie was, technically, queen.
If it hadn’t been for the dread on Liam’s face and the insane thrumming of Evie’s heart, I might’ve believed my conclusion was wrong. However, it looked like they both wanted to take off running and never look back. Maybe they did. Because if their impression of the Sovereign was in line with my own, Evie’s very existence was a death sentence for her.
In a moment of unspeakable clarity … a thought occurred to me. Maybe this was all related to me, too. Maybe my being the Liberator was somehow connected, was somehow more than a fluke.
