Return of the Great and Powerful Rowe

RETURN OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL ROWE

I pace back and forth in my cell, the cold stone floor numbing my sock-covered feet.

My untouched breakfast box rests by the bars, the smell of the gruel turning my stomach into a hard ball. I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up when the guard tossed it into my cell after they took Owen and Zane away. Now it’s a solid, gelatinous mass of nasty.

Esme sits huddled on her narrow cot, her emerald eyes catching mine every time I pass by the hole in the wall.

The hours crawl by without a single update about how the trials are going. My stomach growls, but I can’t bring myself to pick up the breakfast box .

Heavy footsteps echo down the hallway, and I stop pacing, hope and dread warring inside me.

A guard appears, carrying two fresh cardboard boxes.

Is it already lunchtime? How long will these trials take?

Not bothering to open my cell, the guard shoves my box through the bars without bothering to pick up the one from breakfast.

“Hey!” I hurry over. “What’s happening up there? Did the trials start? Is there any news?”

The guard gives me a bored glance as he shoves Esme’s box into her cell. “Prisoners don’t get news. Now shut up and eat.”

He turns and walks away.

“Hey! Get back here, you overgrown troll!” I rattle the bars. “Tell me what’s going on!”

My shouts echo off the hard stones, but the guard doesn’t look back. I want to scream in frustration. For all I know, Owen and Zane could be sentenced by now.

My foot lashes out, sending the breakfast box tumbling, gray clumps splattering across the floor.

Esme flinches but says nothing. She hasn’t said much of anything since they dragged Zane away.

“This is ridiculous,” I fume, throwing myself onto my cot. “They can’t leave us down here not knowing anything! What if the trials are already over? What if…”

I trail off, not wanting to voice the horrible possibilities swirling in my mind.

Esme reaches through the hole, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“We have to stay positive,” she says, but a tremor of fear underscores her words. “Zane and Owen are strong. They’ll get through this.”

I want to believe her. I have to believe her. But each second that ticks by without news tightens the knot of dread in my stomach.

I rest my head against the cool stones and close my eyes. Reaching out with my magic, I try to sense any hint of what’s happening floors above us.

Owen’s energy still burns bright, as does Zane’s, so I know they’re alive. My bond with Owen offers no insight into what he’s feeling, though.

Is he afraid? Is he relieved? He gives me nothing.

A dark chuckle comes from Elias’s cell, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I turn my head to find the evil man lounging against the bars to his cell.

“You might as well give up now, little witches,” he purrs. “Your precious mates are as good as dead. The council will never let them live after attacking one of theirs.”

“Shut up.” My hands clench into fists at my sides. “You don’t know anything.”

“Oh, but I do.” He grins, flashing his fangs. “I’ve seen it happen before. The council loves to make examples out of those who dare to challenge their authority. Your boys… Well, they practically gift-wrapped themselves, didn’t they?”

Magic crackles around me like a gathering storm. “I said, shut up!”

Elias laughs harder, pressing his face against the bars and inhaling hungrily. “Touched a nerve, have I? Face it, little witch. You’ve lost. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

I glare at him. “I’m not in the mood to hear more of your schemes.”

“You have power down here. You could get us out if you wanted to. And no one will be the wiser if you summon my son to your side.”

His creepy face is far too similar to my mate’s, and I turn my head away. “Forget it. I’m not asking Ambros to come down here.”

“Why not?” Elias’s voice turns sly. “Don’t you want to see him? To feel his arms around you, to breathe in his scent? He is your mate, after all.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. “That means nothing. I won’t betray him by leading him into your trap.”

Elias sighs. “Pity. Here I thought you cared for him. How long since he last fed? He must be hungry by now, unless he’s feeding on some other witch while you’re locked up here?”

His words slice into me, fueling the helpless rage building inside. I squeeze my eyes shut, my breaths coming harsh and ragged.

I can’t listen to him. I won’t. But his taunts wriggle under my skin like venomous snakes, finding all my darkest fears and dragging them into the light.

What if he’s right? What if I’ve already lost them?

The thought is too horrifying to bear. I have to do something.

Anything.

I find the cluster of familiar energy signatures gathered high above, pulsing like a beacon. It would be so easy to teleport up there, to materialize in the middle of the trial and demand answers. To see for myself that Owen and Zane are unharmed.

My fingers twitch with the urge to unleash my magic and tear through this fortress, peeling it apart stone by stone. To twist the barrier here from defensive to offensive. To rain down punishment on the coven who stole my ancestral home.

I force myself to breathe, to push the temptation away. Losing control now won’t help anyone, least of all the man I love.

There’s a reason Rowena chose to flee this place instead of turning it into a graveyard. With a baby to protect and a mate who she loved, she had still not gone down that dark path, not even at the cost of her own life.

I will honor her choice for as long as I can. But I will not make the same sacrifice.

The creak of the heavy dungeon door opening pulls me from my thoughts. The guard hasn’t been gone long enough to be back to check on us.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I surge up from the cot, pressing myself against the cold iron bars to strain for a glimpse of the newcomer.

Brisk footsteps sound against the stones, and a figure comes into view. I sag with a mixture of relief and disappointment as Aspen stops in front of my cell.

“What happened?” I grip the bars for dear life. “The trial…Owen…is he…? ”

“He’s fine,” Aspen assures me, and the knot in my stomach loosens a fraction. “They both are. Owen’s trial just ended.”

I search his face. “What was the verdict?”

A small, disbelieving smile tugs at his mouth. “Gael refused to press charges. He stood before the entire assembly and declared that Owen was only trying to protect his mate, and he temporarily lost his mind.”

Stunned, I blink. Gael defended Owen? After everything?

“The Northern Trinity tried to push forward with the case,” Aspen continues, “but without an accuser, they didn’t have a leg to stand on. Aven and Waylon backed Gael’s decision.”

Tears of relief prick at the backs of my eyes, and I lean my forehead against the cool metal. I struggle to wrap my mind around it. Owen is free. He’s safe. They can’t use him against me.

Even as giddy elation bubbles up inside me, worry persists. “What about Zane’s trial? Is his trial over, too?”

Aspen hesitates, his gaze flickering away from mine. “Not yet. His case is more complicated, and Calix’s mother is here as his accuser. ”

“Zane wasn’t even there when Calix died!” Esme protests.

Aspen’s expression turns grim. “No, but she’s claiming you and Calix shared an eternal spark, and Zane kidnapped, then brainwashed you.”

“What?” Esme exclaims. “That’s not true! Zane is my eternal spark! Any witch worth their wand would see that!”

Aspen walks closer to her cell. “Unfortunately, since it’s been proven a witch can have more than one mate when they’re of different species, your connection to Zane doesn’t disprove her claim.”

“Then if they let me speak for him, I could?—”

“That’s why they put the mate’s bias into effect,” Aspen interrupts gently. “So you can’t speak for him.”

“Is this revenge?” I follow him as far as the wall separating me from Esme’s cell. “An eye for an eye type of thing?”

“It would seem so.” Aspen’s lips press into a thin line.

“What about Esme’s medical records?” I demand. “He abused her!”

Esme sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t deny it.

“Calix’s mother had a lot of time to paint a picture of who Esme is while she and Zane were on the run.” He glances at Esme. “I’m sorry. Ties to family should not hold sway during trials, but it can’t be ignored that he was blood. Esme is responsible for his death, and Zane took part in what happened.”

Esme chokes off a sob. “Why can he keep hurting me even after death?”

My thoughts whirl, plotting and discarding ideas for how to turn this around until I settle on the only viable option. “Convince them that Esme and Zane’s trials are too intertwined, and they need to be charged together. Then call me as a witness.”

Aspen shakes his head. “You weren’t there for any of it.”

I reach out to clasp his hand. “Call me as a witness. And tell Gael I need to speak to him.”

Aspen nods slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Turning on his heel, he hurries away.

I pace the luxurious area rug that covers the stone floor in the outer chamber of where the trial is being held. Static builds with each pass, the fine hairs on my body all standing on end.

Soft light illuminates the room from antique wall sconces, and a polished wooden table sits at the center of the square space. Even in the middle of winter, a vase of fresh flowers perfumes the air.

It’s been an hour since the guards came for Esme and me, an agonizing wait made worse by being separated from her at the entrance to the trial room.

The heavy wooden door opens on oiled hinges, and I whirl around, pulse tripping with anxiety.

Owen slips into the room and closes the door. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

I let out a shaky sigh. “Oh, just great. You know how well I do when I’m told to sit and twiddle my thumbs.”

Owen pulls me into a hug, his strong arms and pine scent enveloping me. “You were doing okay while in confinement.”

“I had things I was working on. Now we’re in the final stages, and I’m anxious.” I burrow my face against his chest. “What’s happening in there? How is Esme holding up? They’re not making her cry, are they?”

He guides me to a bench against the wall, and we sit. “Ambros is advocating passionately for Zane. You should see him. I think his fangs came out at one point.”

A small smile tugs at my lips as I picture it. Zane may have lost faith in Ros, but my mate would never give up on one of his.

“What about Aspen?” I ask.

“He was acting as an advisor, but now that Esme and Zane are being tried together, he’s taking the lead for their defense. His arguments are…methodical.”

I snort. That’s Aspen, logical to a fault. Beneath that rigid exterior, though, beats a big heart deep, deep inside.

Owen takes my hand, interlacing our fingers. “They’re fighting for them, Rowe. We all are.”

“I know.” My knee bounces. “I just hate feeling so powerless.”

“Hey.” Owen tilts my chin up, his blue eyes locking with mine. “You are anything but powerless. You are the strongest, most stubborn person I’ve ever known, and fiercely protective. You’re the Great and Powerful Rowe, remember?”

I turn my face into his touch. “I’m so glad you’re here with me. Love you.”

He leans in to press his forehead against mine. “Love you, too.”

The heavy wooden door opens again, and I straighten away from Owen as Gael slips out.

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he approaches. “ Well, this is a nice change of pace. You requesting to speak with me instead of ambushing me in the middle of the night.”

I arch my eyebrows. “Did you have any luck opening your eyes?”

Gael’s jaw tightens. “Still struggling with water. Not quite ready to try your method yet.”

Owen’s brows knit together. “What are you two talking about? What method?”

“I’ll tell you later.” I hold out my hand to Gael, my pulse quickening. So much relies on this working. “Do you want to see?”

Gael hesitates, his gaze darting from my outstretched palm to my face and back again. The air crackles with tension, like the charge before a lightning strike. Or maybe that’s all the static I built up while pacing.

Finally, he clasps my hand, his skin charged like my own.

I close my eyes, reaching deep within myself to the box of memories I want to access. The lid opens, sweeping Gael into the past.

Flashes of the Northern Fortress engulfed in flames, screams rending the night. Rowena’s desperate flight through the shadowed woods, branches tearing at her skin and clothes. The confrontation with Morella Hutchen in the clearing, power rolling off the dark witch in suffocating waves.

Rowena’s final, shattering sacrifice. The fall into the lake. Drowning.

Then magic surging through Rowena, her frantic swim through the icy lake. The knowledge they will keep hunting her and her daughter, and their transformation into wolves.

I break the connection, my breath coming in short gasps as I meet Gael’s stunned gaze. A maelstrom of emotions swirls in those hazel depths, shock, fear, and belief .

Gael staggers back, his face ashen. “That was the last of the Rothavens.”

I nod.

“And my ancestor, the hero who defeated the dark…witches.” He covers his mouth, looking like he might be sick.

“There are always two sides to a story.”

He runs a trembling hand through his hair. “How did you do that?”

“Rowena showed me.” I point to the stones surrounding us. “She remains in the magic that still protects this place.”

“You’ve done this before?” He sits on the bench beside me. “Shown people the past?”

A soft laugh escapes my lips. “No, this was a first. Wasn’t even sure it would work, to be honest.”

Gael’s brows knit together, anger twisting his handsome features. “So you used me as your guinea pig?”

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Consider it payback for spying on Hartford Cove. Seems like the least you could do, don’t you think?”

He flinches as if I struck him, and his shoulders hunch with guilt. “Rowe, Owen…I’m sorry. Truly. When my brothers and I accepted our assignment, we didn’t know you. All we were told was that an unregistered witch was out there, gaining allies left and right, the stories growing more fantastical by the day. It looked…bad. Really bad.”

Sometimes it sucks to be so right. All my helping other people got us stuck in this mess.

Owen shifts beside me, confusion radiating from him in waves. I know he’s bursting with questions, but now isn’t the time.

I meet Gael’s remorseful gaze. “Two sides to every story, right?”

A tentative grin blooms on his face, and for a moment, the weight of the past lifts. “Right. I?— ”

The doors to the trial room open again, and Aspen steps out. “Rowe, it’s time.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I turn to Gael one last time. “I’m counting on you in there. Help them see Esme’s story. Please.”

“Rowe,” Aspen urges. “We can’t keep them waiting.”

My legs shake as I stand, giving Owen’s hand a last squeeze before I let go.

As I step toward the door that will seal the fate of those I love, I draw in a deep breath. I am the Great and Powerful Rowe.

I just hope my plan works.