Chapter Twenty-Nine
Our magic courses through our blood. They say that during the Great War, when witches were captured and taken to phoenixian lands to be experimented on, they would drain them of their blood.
And the royal family would drink it, believing that it would give them strength like none other. Even immortality.
Tabitha Wysteria
Alina had never known pain like the kind Dawn’s blood magic carved through her.
It was not a single wound but a relentless unraveling, her own body turning against itself under the witch’s command.
Dawn’s voice became her anchor, guiding her breath, her muscles and her thoughts, teaching her how to wrestle back control inch by inch from the witchpower tightening its grip.
For now, Kai had not discovered them, but Alina knew that grace would not last. Time was already working against her.
She needed blood—Dawn’s blood—to replenish their weapons, and she needed it soon.
They spent most of the morning in the air, dragons cutting through the sky, and Alina found herself smiling despite everything when the mountains rose on the horizon.
She knew them. Once, long ago, she had travelled these lands with Hessa, riding a great serpent, laughter lost to the wind.
This was the twelfth region of the Desert Kingdom, the domain of King Siroc.
The moment Alina slid from her dragon’s back and watched the others descend in flawless formation, a shiver rippled through her limbs.
She could not see them, but she felt it—eyes upon her, sharp and watchful.
The mountain still lay some distance away, yet figures now crowned its heights, emerging like silhouettes carved from stone.
Moon-shaped daggers caught the sun, flashing cold and bright, a silent warning glinting back at her.
Her dragons began to roar, a thunderous warning that vibrated through the air and straight into her bones.
‘Now what, princess?’ Kai asked, climbing down and moving to her side.
‘We wait for them to come to us.’
He studied her. ‘You think that wise?’
Alina merely shrugged, then turned sharply on her heel, her brown eyes hardening as they landed on Dawn.
Even now, especially now, she did not trust the witch.
And yet it was impossible to look at her without something painful tightening in her chest. Memories rose unbidden: countless nights spent whispering and laughing together, gossiping about boys, racing barefoot down corridors, stealing moments on the beach until Alina’s mother summoned her back.
Those years with Dawn had been the freest, happiest she had ever known.
Then Dawn had vanished and everything had changed.
Alina had not only lost her best friend, but one of the very few people she had ever trusted, one of the only souls she had truly shared her time with.
In Dawn’s absence came solitude: rigid lessons alone, endless hours spent staring at gowns and jewels, being shaped into something ornamental and obedient.
She had endured all of that before. But back then, she had endured it with Dawn.
Without her, the palace had become a cage.
‘You ought to disguise yourself,’ Alina said to Dawn, tearing herself free from memory and sentiment alike. ‘It is best if they do not see a witch among us.’
Dawn nodded, though reluctance weighed heavy in the movement. Alina did not miss the flinch. She told herself she did not care and yet, a small, treacherous part of her did. The kind that lingered where it ought not.
‘You have a heart,’ Hessa said with a knowing smile.
Alina ignored the ghost and turned her attention back to the mountains, to the figures poised upon their ridges like watchful sentinels.
‘Do I?’ Alina muttered as she crouched, pressing her palm into the yielding sand. It was warm, alive beneath her skin, as though the desert itself listened while she waited for its people to descend.
She expected Hessa to crouch beside her. Instead, it was Mareena.
Mareena’s hand settled over Alina’s in the sand, steady and grounding.
Normally, Alina would have pulled away without a thought.
Lately, she found herself craving the contact, clinging to it like an anchor.
Still, she glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Hessa watching in silence before dissolving into dust, scattered by a wind that did not exist.
‘Before they arrive, we need blood,’ Mareena said softly, her voice barely more than breath. ‘In case King Siroc decides to attack.’
‘He won’t.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Mareena replied, her grip firm. ‘We must be prepared.’
Alina sighed, then nodded and rose to her feet. She turned towards Dawn, who was in the midst of reshaping herself, her form still unsettled. The moment Alina approached, Dawn let her hands fall and frowned, unease appearing plainly across her face as she looked between the two women.
‘We need your blood,’ Alina said simply.
Dawn’s brow furrowed. ‘I already gave you my blood. You remember that.’
‘We need more.’
‘Why?’
‘Our weapons…’ Mareena explained gently, lifting her hand to indicate the golden gauntlet encasing it. ‘What I took before was not enough. Magic is not endless.’
Dawn’s purple eyes narrowed. ‘Neither is my blood.’
‘It can be,’ Mareena replied calmly, ‘if done properly.’
Alina opened her mouth to intervene, then closed it again as Kai hurried over, placing himself squarely beside Dawn. Alina could not stop the snort that escaped her at the sight of it.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kai demanded, his attention fixed solely on Dawn, his stance instinctively protective.
‘We need more blood,’ Alina said.
‘Like hell you do.’
‘Kai, don’t be difficult.’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘You are not taking any more blood from her.’
Alina folded her arms across her chest, unimpressed. ‘I believe the witch is perfectly capable of speaking for herself.’
‘My name is Dawn,’ the witch replied, her voice sharp enough to draw blood all on its own.
Alina stiffened at the warning threaded through it. Of course Dawn would wield their shared secret like a blade, using blood magic as leverage. Why wouldn’t she? That was what witches did. They twisted truths, bent trust, and turned intimacy into power.
‘We are about to enter King Siroc’s domain, where they believe I murdered their princess,’ Alina spat, her eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. ‘Our weapons are useless without her, without Dawn’s blood.’
‘I said no.’ Kai stepped forward, deliberately placing himself between them and Dawn, his body a shield.
Alina mirrored his movement, closing the distance, one brow arching in cool defiance. ‘We need her blood.’
‘And when will it be enough?’ Kai demanded, his dark eyes burning. ‘When you’ve drained her dry?’
Alina scoffed, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t be childish, Kai. We are not going to bleed her to death.’
‘Alina—’
‘I think you’re confused,’ she cut in sharply. ‘This isn’t a request. It’s a command.’
‘You do not command us,’ Kai said, his voice hard as stone.
‘Perhaps not,’ Alina replied softly. Then her attention drifted past him, towards the dragons resting behind them. She smiled when she saw the colour drain from his face, understanding dawning at last. ‘But if you want my dragons, you will do as I say.’
Kai’s jaw tightened, words rising to his lips only to die there when Dawn reached out and laid a hand on his arm. The simple gesture struck Alina harder than any blade. She stared at the familiarity of it, at the ease between them.
It was becoming harder by the day not to feel the bitterness clawing at her chest. Harder not to resent everyone for choosing themselves, for never choosing her.
She did not want to hate Kai. And yet she did. Somewhere deep and aching, she hated him for leaving her all those months ago. For not fighting harder. For walking away. For abandoning her just as Dawn had done.
Alina was so tired of being left behind.
So tired of standing alone, of always having to fight by herself.
She was exhausted.
Exhausted by the loneliness.
By the ache of it.
‘Fine,’ Dawn said at last, stepping forward. ‘You may take my blood for your weapons.’
Alina inclined her head once, accepting the words without ceremony. She gestured for Mareena to proceed and turned away, already dismissing the matter from her thoughts. Her attention returned to her dragons, to the subtle shifts of their wings and the low, restless sounds rumbling in their chests.
Then her attention lifted to the mountains.
The procession was no longer a distant suggestion upon the ridge but a living thing now, bodies moving in deliberate descent, blades catching the light as they drew closer with every measured step.
Alina’s voice cut through the tension, calm and sharp as steel.
‘You’d better hurry,’ she said. ‘They’re coming.’