Chapter 85
SERENA
Lightning slashes across the midnight skies, followed by another crack of thunder. We slice through weeping storm clouds, rain pelting us as we soar over the agitated onyx waves of the Sunken Sea.
“This is it!” Mar shouts over the deafening winds. “Steer her straight down when I say.”
“It’s all ocean beneath us!” I call back.
“I know. Trust me.”
Mar begins to chant behind me in Ancient Fae. I glance at her over my shoulder. A line of blue blood trickles from her nose as she continues louder.
“Now!”
Furi obeys without hesitation, diving toward the water with unrelenting speed. I suck in a breath, bracing to go under as we spear through the surface and are swallowed up by the sea.
My ears start to ache as we plunge deeper and deeper into the depths of the abyss. My lungs burn, desperate to expand as the pressure builds in my head. Panic sets in. The moment my vision begins to blink out, we break through the barrier.
We’re still plunging downward, only now we are plunging toward a twilight sky. Gasping, I glance below us toward the water we just emerged from. The world has turned upside down.
“Head toward the shore,” Mar calls.
The night grows eerily quiet as we land inside a dense forest—the only sound the patter of rain falling against the dusty ground.
“We have to go on foot from here,” Mar says, nodding toward the camp in the distance. I glance back at Zadyn’s body, secured to Furi’s saddle, and another wave of nausea rocks me.
I can’t believe this is real.
I will watch over him until you are ready. Go, Blackblood.
I nod, words evading me.
I keep expecting him to pop up beside me. I keep waiting for that moment when he shows up like he always does and offers me that smile that tells me that no matter what, everything is going to be okay.
But it doesn’t come. Zadyn isn’t coming. And it’s all my fault.
We make our way toward the edge of the trees, where the forest gives way to a village of rustic cabins. Mar holds up a hand to stop us.
“Let me go first.” She hesitates before stepping out onto the dirt path.
The hair on my arms stands up.
Something is wrong.
The second my mouth opens, a handful of figures step out of the shadows, forcing Mar to the ground. A silver blade glints against her throat. We lunge forward, but before we can reach her, we hit an invisible wall and bounce backward.
A shield.
“Marideth!” Dover pounds against the translucent dome.
The figures haul her to her feet, twisting her arms behind her back to knot a thick rope around her wrists.
I do the only thing I can think of. I hurl out a wave of fire.
It hits the wall and blossoms out, sliding along the undetectable surface.
But it doesn’t penetrate. The figures freeze, turning back toward us.
Two of them approach, leaving Mar in the hands of a third.
Their angular faces come into view. Sharp and beautiful, they stare at us with snarling mouths.
“Let her go!” Dover bellows.
“I will burn this forest to the ground if you don’t lower this shield,” I threaten.
“Do it, and you seal your own grave,” one of them hisses.
“You wanna bet on it?” I send another stream of fire flying at the dome, and it quivers. They jerk backward, exchanging a glance. “I can do this all night.”
Recovering, the smaller one snaps, “You wish to be tried with the traitor?”
“Drop the shield. Now.”
“One wrong move and she burns without trial.”
“And you’ll join her,” the other adds. With a wave of her hand, she lowers the shield. “Bind them.”
“It’s alright,” Mar croaks, eyes pleading with me.
With the knife pressed to her throat, we comply, holding out our hands to be bound. We’re dragged through the Blueblood camps, past the rows of identical cottages, each of which looks dark and empty. When we’re thrust into a large hut packed with bodies, I realize it’s because everyone is here.
Waiting for us.
A hush falls over the crowd of females as we’re shoved forward, earning hateful stares on the way.
We’re tossed at the foot of a dais housing five thrones made of twigs and wild brush, four of which are occupied by witches in crowns of thorns.
They’re beautiful, with eyes different shades of gray and silver and ice-blue. Beautiful and terrifying.
The blades remain pressed to our throats as one of the crowned Bluebloods stands, her voice slicing through the hushed murmurs of the gathered covens.
“You dare show your face back here? With a pack of outsiders, no less?” Her ice-blonde hair falls like a silk sheet to her hips, her black nails filed to dagger-like points.
“Please, Esther,” Mar entreats. “I know I’ve broken the covenant. You can tie me up and burn me on the pyre, but first I need to speak with her.”
“Silence! You do not come here and make demands of the elders. You made your choice when you defected.”
“Just let me speak with her—”
“The law is the law,” another Blueblood with rich dark skin and smooth ebony hair says from her throne. Her irises are so pale they nearly blend with the whites of her eyes. “And you have broken several—including our most sacred one.”
Though her words are firm, her face lacks the same contempt as the scary blonde with the claws.
“Once the Matron arrives, you will be tried for your crimes, and when you and the intruders are found guilty, you will answer with your lives.”
“Threaten my friends again, and it’s you who will answer with your lives.”
Four heads snap toward me as my rage comes to a boil.
“What did you just say?” Esther takes a menacing step toward me, her claws curling.
A darkness creeps over me, and though it frightens me, I don’t have the strength to fend it off. It’s heavy. My power just itching to be let free. Itching to destroy something.
“Enough.”
This voice is different—chilling and ancient—coming from behind us.
She walks toward us at an unhurried pace, the horde of Bluebloods parting for her with bowed heads.
Her hair is braided down her back, the auburn strands streaked with silver ones.
Her face is soft and ethereal, showing a bit of age through the gentle lines and creases.
She wears no crown, but something tells me she doesn’t need to.
The female mounts the dais and comes to a stop in front of Mar.
“Grandmother.”
Grandmother?
“What have you done, Marideth?” She shakes her head, regret lining her silver eyes. I catch a tear streaming down Mar’s face as she bows at the witch’s feet. I’ve never seen her cry before.
“Save your tears, child,” her grandmother says, her voice gentle.
Then her cool gaze lands on me. Reaching out a wrinkled hand, she cups my face and studies my irises. I try to control the scowl on my face.
“You fools do realize who you hold captive, do you not?” Releasing me, she turns back to the bloodthirsty witches enthroned before us. “Are you that blind?”
The elders study me. One by one, their faces change, their jaws dropping as they take in the constricted amethyst eyes peering back at them.
“It can’t be,” the small one on the end whispers, a hand pressed to her chest.
“Oh, but it is.” I sneer, melting the rope from my wrists. Two flames burst from my palms. A gasp ripples through the crowd, and the dagger threatening me clanks to the ground. “And unless you want your homes to be razed, you’d better release my friends. Now.”
“Imposter!” Esther snarls, drawing a long curved blade and surging toward me with crazed eyes.
Without any conscious effort, my shadows lash out, wrapping around her wrists and throat, forcing her to her knees. The rest of the room gasps as the elders leap to their feet. My shadows preen at the taste of their fear.
“Serena,” Mar breathes, her face ashen.
“No harm will come to you here. Any of you.” Marideth’s grandmother assures me. “Release her.”
“Tell your witches to stand down first,” I bite, nodding toward the ones still holding knives to my friends’ necks. Mar’s grandmother delivers a terse nod, and they back away into the crowd. I seethe for another minute, my chest heaving.
“Serena.” Kai nudges my leg with his shoulder, snapping me out of it. My shadows retract, and Esther crashes forward, coughing and clutching her throat.
“It’s her,” the petite elder whispers in awe. “The last Blackblood.”
She takes a cautious step away from her sisters and sinks to her knees. The rustling of clothes has me turning toward the crowd. Around me, the gathered Bluebloods are dropping to the ground.
“What are they doing?”
“Bowing. To you.” Mar’s grandmother’s voice sends chills down my spine. Then she too dips at the waist. The other two witches on the dais follow suit, dropping down to one knee. I don’t count Esther, who’s still on all fours, all but foaming at the mouth as she glares at me.
“Get up, just—get up,” I mutter in exasperation.
The first elder to bow rises. “The Blackblood is welcome here. However, the traitor must be dealt with as our clan’s tradition demands.”
“I’m the one who begged Marideth to bring me here. Practically forced her.”
“Grandmother, we wouldn’t have come if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”
Esther’s shrill voice interrupts. “Laws have been broken by one of our own. This defector has returned to our camp and brought outsiders.” She calls to the crowd like she’s trying to incite an angry mob. “I demand a trial.”
Mar’s grandmother takes a seat on the empty throne centered between the other four and waves a hand. “Name her.”
“Marideth Whitlocke, you stand hereby accused of treason,” Esther says with predatory joy. “How do you plead?”
“I plead guilty.”
Shouts erupt from the crowd. The only elder not to speak slams her staff into the ground, enforcing a tense silence.
“Marideth, come forward,” her grandmother beckons. Mar gets to her feet and steps up onto the dais, hands still bound in her lap. Dover growls on his knees beside us, jerking against his restraints.
“Tell me true, why have you returned?”
“Our friend is dead.” She glances back toward me.