Chapter 42
Flying a magic carpet is essentially the same concept as flying a broom. Both require some balance. The rug is arguably more comfortable, but it also feels easier to fall off. And I can tell my familiar absolutely loathes the experience.
Nero and I jet across the sky, the chilled ocean breeze icy against my cheeks.
My heart is still hammering a mile a minute, and I have to press a hand to my chest just to catch my breath.
I glance over my shoulder, where I can still see the hazy orange tint of flames.
I face forward again, licking my lips.
A wave of noxious fear washes over me.
Est amage.
I startle at Memnon’s voice in my head. And then I nearly keel over with relief.
“Memnon?” I breathe.
He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
I feel his tight, pained smile across our connection.
A choked cry slips from my lips.
Not only is he alive, I can sense him again.
My queen, he whispers brokenly.
The wrongness in his voice halts all my vicious elation.
Memnon, where are you? I say down our bond. What happened? I saw your blade and the demons—
Est amage, he interrupts, his voice still sounding strange, you remember our wedding rite? His words carry the metallic taste of his fear. Desperate, despondent fear.
It’s contagious.
Which one? I ask, my own voice hitching.
The one where I chased and you ran. I can sense Memnon’s hopelessness. Beneath that, I swear his power churns like a thunderstorm.
I remember, I say, my throat tightening as my stomach rolls with unease. This moment feels wrong. All wrong.
Empress, he says softly, I want you to pretend it is our wedding day all over again. And I want you to run.
My body is trembling long after Memnon finished speaking across our bond.
What’s going on? I asked.
Are you in trouble?
Do you need help?
Why do you want me to run?
Every answer was met with unsettling silence. He pulled away from the connection as much as he could, and I don’t know what it says about his state that even trying to distance himself as much as possible, his pain and fear come screaming through.
He feels wrong. All wrong.
I adjust my grip on the rug to press a hand to my sternum, an ache settling in.
“Ugh, love is for fucking losers,” I say, my voice breaking.
Nero gives me a look like it physically pains him to be trapped on a flying carpet with me.
Which is probably the Goddess’s honest truth.
And of course this has to happen right after Henbane closes down. This is about the time I could really use my coven.
There is one other place I dare to go, now that—presumably—I’m being chased.
I cut across the lush coastal mountains. Past houses with their gleaming dots of light. I suck in a breath when I see Henbane, the campus dark, the buildings looking like shadowy specters.
I fly past it, my eyes focusing on what lies beyond it.
When the sprawling Marin Pack shifter complex comes into view, my heart pounds a little harder. I shouldn’t be dragging anyone else into my problems. Not when they’re the kind of problems that can get others killed.
But just as I’m about to turn the rug in a different direction, I catch sight of a lavender orb of light out in front of the complex, and beneath it, Sybil.
I know I’ve been spotted the moment she waves. All plans of turning around disintegrate.
But I can’t linger. I’ll simply tell my friend what’s going on, and then be on my way.
I merely have to think about lowering the rug to the ground, and Nero and I descend. Our carpet skims over the tips of trees that encircle the complex, and then we dip down into the wide road in front of the building
The rug comes to a stop right in front of Sybil. I slide off it and trip into my best friend’s arms. Nero, meanwhile, flings himself off the carpet in the most dramatic way possible.
Cats, man.
I hold Sybil close, my breath coming out in great heaves. Only then do I realize I’m trembling, from the cold, from adrenaline, and from the caustic fear that’s settled in my gut.
“Ssh, I’ve got you,” she murmurs.
I squeeze her a little tighter, embarrassed by how much I cling to those words.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
“Waiting for you, wench.” She smooths my hair down. “I…had a feeling.”
I pull away to take her in, surprised. She sensed I was coming here?
“Okay,” she admits. “So it wasn’t a feeling. It was a text thread. I’ll tell you all about it on our way over to Henbane.”
My brows pull together. “Henbane?”
“Oh, right, no one’s told you. The coven has called a meeting.”