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Chapter 61 : Face from the Past
Rosalie
It had been three days since Ernest and Gemma had arrived in Winter Forest. To say our lives hadn’t
been completely turned upside down by their appearance, and shocking revelations of what happened
in Mirage, would be an understatement.
On top of all of that, Gemma was pregnant with Ernest’s child. They were mates. Georgia had burst
into tears when Ernest told her as such. Georgia had told us about her vision long ago, the same vision
himself had seen in his youth that led him to believe he would never find his mate or have children. The
announcement had been met with shock and joy, but mostly shock. This changed things for everyone,
especially Maeve. If Ethan and Ernest were able to recover Mi rage, Gemma would be Luna. Their
child would be the heir, and there was no longer a need for a breeder.
And despite an initially warm welcome, both Gemma and Ernest had been holding up in the small
house Seraphine had built along the bluff overlooking the inlet, the door locked and the lights turned
off.
They had been through hell and back. Whatever trauma they’d encountered on their journey, well, they
weren’t willing to talk to us about it yet.
But Ernest had supplied us with something from the destruction of Mirage. He had handed a large,
worn-out leather sketchbook to Talon and Ethan before he escorted a wary and exhaust ed Gemma to
Seraphine’s old house. He had also given the flannel jacket Rowan and Maeve used to fight over, the
flannel that was now confirmed to have been stolen away when Maeve left for Valoria, back to Rowan.
Rowan had been heartbroken. It was a sign that things with Maeve were not alright.
I was standing on the front deck, leaning on the railing and eavesdropping on the conversa tion taking
place between Rowan, Ethan, and Talon. They were sitting in the wicker chairs around the outdoor
table, scratching their heads over the incredibly detailed drawings and portraits in the sketchbook
belonging to the man named Troy. A man, according to Ernest, who had been good. Someone even
Ernest considered a friend.
How can that be?
“Wait a minute -” Talon had reached out to stop Rowan from turning a page. Talon stood, sketchbook in
hand as he looked down at the page, holding the sketchbook at an angle to get a better view of the
drawing in the light. “Do you know who this is, Ethan?”
Ethan peered at the page as Talon lowered the sketchbook, his brow knitted in concentra tion. I saw a
flash of recognition in his eyes, then his head snapped in Talon’s direction, his body nearly jumping out
of his chair. “It’s not
“That’s Madalynn. I’m sure of it.”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt“Who?” Rowan looked down at the page just as I started moving forward, unable to stop my
self.
And there she was, her facial features blurred as if drawn from some distant, forgotten memory or
someone else’s description. Her face shape was spot on, her hair an identical shade of brown that I
remembered vividly. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly, having to turn away be fore I met Ethan’s eyes.
I hadn’t thought about Madalynn in years.
The sudden, painful realization of the reasoning for her sudden appearance swept over me as I slowly
turned back to Ethan, who was looking right at me. “Her child?” I asked in a barely au dible whisper.
“It was a boy. That’s all I know.” Ethan swallowed hard, looking down at the page once more before
turning his head to look over the railing, his eyes lost in thought.
There was a time I wished for nothing more than Madalynn’s slow, painful death. But some thing had
changed in me when I had Rowan, something only a mother can truly feel. When we found out about
Madalynn’s pregnancy before she was put in prison, I was torn to shreds with guilt and sadness.
I told Ethan to never tell me what happened to Madalynn and her child, and he never did.
Not until today.
“Madalynn is dead, Rosalie. Her child was safe.” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest.
“What happened to him?” I asked, my voice tight with emotion.
“I don’t rightfully know. Only that he was given to someone for safekeeping,” he said.
“Not to Behar?” | asked, my stomach beginning to turn as I looked down at the painting of Madalynn on
the table between us.
“It could have been, but Behar allegedly died in the war; at least that was what Madalynn had told
everyone. The boy would’ve been orphaned fully if that was true. Who knows where he end ed up,”
said Talon.
“Well, he ended up in Valoria,” Rowan said, his voice cutting through the air as he turned the pages of
the notebook and settled his gaze on the open page. We all looked down, and a somber silence
paused our conversation.
It was Maeve, drawn with such talent that I felt like I was looking at a photograph of her. She was
smiling, laughing, her eyes shining on the page.
It had been drawn with great care.
With love.
I reached up to wipe my eyes, turning away from the group as I walked a few paces away.
“Is this man…” came Talon’s voice behind me.
“It’s probable this man is Madalynn and Behar’s son, yes.” Ethan’s voice was steady, as though the
idea of our daughter in the hands of a man sharing the same blood as the very wom an who had
caused so much grief and chaos was nothing to scoff at.
“Ernest said he was a good man, a friend” Rowan cut in, but was swiftly hushed by Talon.
“Ernest also said Troy was masquerading as Maeve’s breeder to get close to Romero on Damian’s
orders,” Ethan said, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he spoke.
“Whoever he is–”Talon tried to say.
“Will you listen to me?!” Rowan exclaimed, standing from his seat and leaning over the table to snatch
the sketchbook out of Ethan’s hands. Ethan looked shocked, anger beginning to bub ble behind his
eyes.
“Rowan-“| began.
“What good would come out of chasing this man?” Rowan looked from Ethan to Talon, eyes flaming
similar to Ethan’s. “Ernest believed this Troy guy. He really did. Ernest said Troy was the one who
warned them Poldesse was invading. He said Troy was the one who got Maeve out of the castle-”
“Ernest told us a lot of other things too, Rowan!” Ethan snapped, his patience waning.
Suddenly, the three men were shouting, talking over each other so rapidly that I couldn’t make out the
rest of the conversation. I bit the inside of my cheek, shaking my head as I watched them, their voices
flamed by hurt and confusion.
Everyone but Maeve was home and safe. We finally knew the details about what had hap pened in
Mirage.
Everyone was so caught up in the fact that a strange, unfamiliar man was likely with Maeve, even
though Ernest had explained the situation in length.
And no one seemed to care about what he had said happened to Gemma and Ernest that night, and
the weeks that followed. No one but me.
Ernest thought Gemma had died. In fact, he was sure of it. He had stayed with her body in a clearing
just outside of the castle grounds until dawn broke and the sky filled with an angry red, post-war
sunrise. He left her lifeless body and returned to the castle, ready to meet his death, and found it totally
and completely empty.
Not one single wolf remained inside the fortress. Even Romero’s body had been removed from the
tower. Ernest walked along the blood-stained hallways until he reached the spot where Gemma had
been so violently attacked by Damian’s wolves, just outside of Maeve’s bedroom.
The doors had been kicked in, revealing nothing but destruction as Ernest entered the rooms. He had
found the sketchbook and the flannel during his time there, then left the castle as quickly as he had
come, not seeing or hearing another person or wolf the entire time.
But when he returned to the clearing, he found Gemma sitting up. She had turned to look at him,
blinking into the sun as she asked what had happened, and where she was. He had fallen to his knees,
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thinking she was a ghost, a figment of imagination. Or better yet, he was dead, and his suffering had
ended.
But she came to him, touching him on the shoulder.
And after that they hid, Ernest surveying the castle for several days. People began to come and go,
soon taking up residence. He recognized the Luna of Greenbriar and several other no bles he had
once thought of as allies.
But never Damian.
Ernest knew he had to leave Mirage. He needed to get Gemma to safety. And that meant getting her
home to Winter Forest.
5
Talon had listened to this story with a blank expression, his mouth occasionally twitching as Ernest
recounted the more gory and sinister parts. Georgia had been too upset to even listen with her full
attention, her eyes narrowing on Talon as she mouthed something to the effect of, “I told you he was
too young to do this on his own.”
And Rowan had glared at Ernest, his gaze shifting between him and Gemma with a look of marked
disapproval as he glanced down at Gemma’s hands resting on top of the swell of her belly.
The path forward seemed clear, at least to me. Damian was who we needed to be worried about.
Ernest had told us about Romero and the map. I had listened in terror at the sinister plans Romero had
laid out regarding Maeve.
The same plans Damian meant to continue.
“Maeve is safe with Troy,” I said as loudly as possible, my voice cutting through the argu ment taking
place between Ethan, Talon, and Rowan. I looked at Ethan, willing him to agree, to understand.
“Damian is who you want.”
Ethan flexed his jaw, reaching up to scratch his beard in contemplation.
“And keep it down,” I said coolly. “Gretchen is inside preparing dinner for our family gathering tonight.”
“Oh, right.” Rowan sat back down, looking somewhat defeated.
“Get. Along.” I bit out, losing my patience as I watched Ethan’s gaze move toward Rowan, then snap
back as I spoke. “Maeve is fine. She will come home. But now, if you go out and rile our allies up about
a man who is the least of our worries… Troy is not a threat.” My voice was shaking as I said it. I
couldn’t help it. I would lose my death grip on my sanity if Ethan even showed the slightest anxiety
about Maeve being in the company of Madalynn’s son. I needed to believe Maeve was safe. I
desperately needed to believe that whoever this man was, he was protecting
her.
Because Maeve was too far away for me to protect her.
I wouldn’t even know where to look.
I turned away from them and walked back into the house, taking a deep breath and wiping hot tears
from my eyes as I closed the door behind me. I shook out my shoulders and arms, re gaining my
composure as I walked through the hallway toward the kitchen, forcing a smile on my face.
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