Brandon nodded, not trusting his voice. He'd heard Jason's intel about Declan Rourke. But seeing the truth of what that man had felt touched his soul.
The vision shifted again. Declan teaching Siobhan how to layer wards, his patience endless. Declan looking at her sleeping face with such devotion. Declan's hand always finding hers, their fingers intertwining the way Brandon’s and Muriel’s often did.
A man who loved her. Who would have loved their daughter.
The light faded, the images dissolving like mist.
Muriel stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. But when she looked at Brandon, she was smiling.
“He loved her,” she whispered. “He lovedme.”
Brandon pulled her close, feeling her tremble against him. Not with sobs, but with something that felt like relief. Like a wound finally beginning to heal.
“TheCodexwanted you to know,” he said quietly. “It wanted you to see the truth.”
She nodded against his chest, then pulled backenough to look at the ancient grimoire resting peacefully in its new home. “Thank you,” she whispered to it.
TheCodex's pages rustled once more.
Brandon pulled Muriel close, and they stood there for a long moment, just looking at the ancient grimoire in its new home.
“You know what it needs?” Muriel said suddenly.
“What?”
“A friend.” She moved to a nearby shelf, pulling down a massive tome with a cover embossed in symbols that matched theCodex's. “This one. They have the same energy. The same... I don't know, vibe?”
“Are you trying to set up theCodexon a date?”
“I'm saying ancient, sentient magical texts probably get lonely.” She set the tome on the platform next to theCodex. “And look—they already match. It's perfect.”
TheCodex's pages rustled, and if Brandon didn't know better, he'd swear it sounded pleased.
“I can't believe this is my life,” he said, unable to stop smiling. “Finding companionship for magical grimoires.”
“Our life,” Muriel corrected. She turned in his arms to face him.
“Right.” The word came out rough with emotion. He'd spent so long guarding this place alone, keeping Merlin's legacy safe by himself. Having someone to share it with, someone who understood its value and treated it with respect.
It was everything.
“Thank you,” he said. “For understanding what this means. For treating it like it matters.”
She touched his face gently. “This is your history. Your family. Of course it matters.”
He kissed her then, long and deep.
His perfect mate.
Sometimes fate really did get it right.
Later,after they'd climbed back upstairs and sealed the vault, Muriel made tea while Brandon sorted through his latest acquisition—a box of Wallachian artifacts that recently resurfaced. Among them was Vlad Tepesh’s personally annotated prayer book—he was a devout Orthodox—and several letters between Vlad and Matthias Corvinus. He’d gotten them for Armand, to thank him for his help.
“I should go back to the cottage at some point to get the rest of my things,” she said, curling up on the couch.
“Want company?” Brandon set down the book he'd been shelving.
“I'd love that. And who knows? You might find something to add to your collection in the hidden chamber.” She paused, staring into her tea. “I should probably decide what to do with it. Sell it, maybe. Or?—”