All Chapters of Claimed by my Sister's Fiancé : Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

CORMAC POVThe towering bonfire cast a brilliant, roaring dome of orange light over the entire square, driving the chill of the northern night back into the surrounding hills. Sparks danced like falling stars into the dark sky, while the sweet, heavy scent of roasting venison and woodsmoke drifted on the breeze. All around us, the impossible had become simply, beautifully real. Fergusons and Mackinnons, Wrennas and Ashcombes, people who had spent their entire lives inheriting blood-feuds and whispered hatreds, were passing jugs of dark ale back and forth across the trestle tables. An old Fenmoor fiddler struck up a lively, bouncing reel, and within seconds, a dozen couples were spinning across the flagstones, their laughter ringing out clear and unburdened.Across the square, Isla and Torin had moved closer to the warmth of the fire. Even from a distance, I could see the relaxed curve of Isla's shoulders, the way she wasn't guarding her posture or scanning the perimeter for threats. T

CORMAC POVTwo brothers, one inherited orchard, and apparently forty years of quiet resentment over who their father actually loved more."I read the details aloud to Bridie as our small cart rolled toward the modest territory that had requested the Order's help, the morning after Fenmoor's festival finally wound down.The spring air was crisp and clean, carrying the earthy fragrance of damp soil and budding green grass. The road ahead of us wound lazily through rolling pasturelands, free of military patrols, ancient markers, or the heavy, oppressive ozone that had dogged our steps for years."That sounds more human than anything we've handled in months," Bridie said, amused despite the early hour, her fingers resting lightly on the rim of the cart seat as the gelding plodded forward."I think that's rather the appeal," I said, nudging the reins. "No ancient pattern waiting to twist their grief into something bigger than it already is. Just two brothers who never learned how to actual

BRIDIE POV "Six territories, four resolved disputes, and not a single ancient pattern involved in any of them. Cormac, I think we've built something that actually works."I said it over the Order's newest correspondence, winter settling grey and quiet over the reconciliation school's grounds.The heavy oak table in our study was scattered with reports, unsealed dispatches from border villages, and quiet tallies of winter provisions. Outside the tall leaded windows, the rolling meadows of the northern march were wrapped in a soft, muffled blanket of white, the distant pine woods standing dark and still against the pale winter sky. There were no midnight alarms, no frantic scouts rattling the gatehouse, and no cold, oily thrum of ancient malice hiding beneath the floorboards."Isla would say we've built something less dramatic than what we started with," Cormac said, amused, looking up from a ledger where he was logging the distribution of winter seed to the eastern valleys. "I think t

BRIDIE POV"I want to help however I can. Whatever this baby turns out to be, our Order's spent a year learning more about convergence and old bloodline patterns than anyone else currently living."I said it to Elira over tea, Cormac beside me, Isla and Wynn deep in conversation over the archive's collected notes across the room.The fire hissed softly in Ashgrove's hearth, throwing long, warm shadows across the polished floorboards while winter howled harmlessly against the thick glass panes outside. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced honey filled the room, offering a sharp, comforting contrast to the cold snow blanketing the gardens beyond. For once, the maps spread across our tables weren't tactical blueprints or border fortifications, but ancient genealogical charts and scholarly transcripts detailing the delicate architecture of bloodline convergence."I'd welcome that," Elira said, setting her teacup down with a soft click against the wood. "Though I confess, this particu

BRIDIE POV"She's perfect. Absolutely, impossibly perfect."Lyra's voice, exhausted and radiant in equal measure, carried through the room as the healer settled her daughter against her chest.The chamber was drenched in the soft, amber glow of bedside lanterns, the lingering scent of crushed lavender and clean linen mingling with the crisp spring air drifting through the half-open terrace doors. The furious, thin wail that had broken through the tension had settled into small, rhythmic snuffles.I watched from the doorway, Cormac's arm warm around my shoulders, as three generations of this family gathered close around the newest one. The gentle gold-silver-blue light still traced faintly along the baby's small fists, a delicate, iridescent shimmer that pulsed in harmony with her breath before fading, gradually, into something that simply looked like ordinary, healthy skin."What will you name her," Elira asked softly.She stood at the bedside, leaning over the swaddled bundle, her so