Chapter 57 Skylar
Skylar stares down at her pin, the only thing of her mother’s she’s kept hold of. A wand?
She’s lost it, she says to Astrid again.
But Astrid’s face has drained of color, and she’s staring down at the pin with something like recognition. In general, yes. But, Skylar, I think she’s right about your pin. I think it is a witch wand.
Why the Vaar would my mother have a witch wand?
I don’t know, but—
“Axel!” The queen’s voice is a bark, because Axel still hasn’t moved to obey her. He glances at Ottilie—and for a second Skylar thinks he might not do it. He might refuse. But Ottilie’s eyes narrow, her head jerking. And a trace of a grimace crosses his face as he moves toward Skylar.
Before she has time to react, calm washes over her, making her question why she would want to fight.
She feels almost content, and when she looks at Astrid, all she sees is a lazy smile on her face.
She knows this isn’t right, that they don’t really feel like this.
But it doesn’t stop her from staying still, pin at her side, as Axel closes the distance between them.
He runs one hand down her arm, and even through all of this, her body reacts, goose bumps prickling. “You can still win this, Skylar,” he whispers into her ear. “Give her what she wants. I won’t let her hurt you, I promise.”
Something fights through the calm at that.
The fact that he’s talking about her. Only her.
“And, what, she’s going to let my mate live, is she?
” He has the audacity to wince at the word “mate.” She shakes her head, dredging up the darkness from within her, something that is not emotion but a part of who she is. “I don’t need your protection.”
She shoves him away, ducking under the arm that swings for her, knowing his movements as well as her own from the hours of training. Then she focuses on Ottilie. And she draws.
The queen screeches as Skylar’s power reaches her, and Skylar’s body trembles with the effort. It is not easy like it usually is—there is something sluggish in the way her magic finds its target. But it is working. Somehow, she’s fighting through the queen’s power.
“How are you doing this?” the queen demands, breathing labored as she writhes.
A bead of sweat pricks Skylar’s top lip and she grits her teeth. She can feel Astrid’s presence at the corner of her mind, but Astrid doesn’t say anything, letting her concentrate. The Dreki are advancing, and she dodges a dagger thrown at her.
“Stop.” It’s Axel’s voice. She glances at him, not letting go of her hold on the queen.
But her heart stutters. Because he has Astrid. Her arms are twisted behind her, held in one of his hands. With his other hand he presses a knife to her throat, a pinprick of blood swelling there.
Skylar’s magic deserts her and the queen gasps on the floor. Panic, unlike anything she’s ever known before, surges through her and she stumbles forward. The world goes still as Axel presses the knife closer. And Skylar realizes—she has never truly known fear until this moment.
Astrid swallows, her throat bobbing. Bastet is there, prowling around Axel, teeth bared, but she sees that he, too, is afraid to make a move. Because if they’re not fast enough, that knife…
Axel’s eyes are level on Skylar. “One wrong move, and she dies.”
Zryan roars, and a Dreki is stupid enough to get too close to him—just as he pulls the broken chain free. Zryan reaches out and grabs the Dreki’s throat. He squeezes, his lip curled, face inhuman.
Skylar hears the windpipe break, and the Dreki slumps to the floor, dead. Zryan pulls against his remaining chain, but it doesn’t budge. His eyes are pure fury as he looks at Axel. “If you hurt her, I will end you.”
Skylar tells herself it’s okay, that between them, they won’t let anything happen to Astrid. But that doesn’t stop the pain in her chest, the dizziness that is threatening to overwhelm her.
The queen stands, brushing herself off, as the Dreki glance at her for instruction. No one moves to retrieve the dead man at Zryan’s feet.
“Thank you, Axel,” Ottilie says. “Now, Skylar, the wand, if you will.”
Skylar looks from the queen, her hand outstretched, back to Astrid.
You know him better than me. Will he actually kill me? Astrid’s tone is calm. Axel’s Influence? Then again, she’s always been so brave, hasn’t she?
I don’t know. Why is there still a part of her that wants to believe that he won’t? That he wouldn’t do the one thing guaranteed to break her entirely in two? But given he’s already tried to kill us multiple times, I don’t think we should rule it out.
Ottilie tuts impatiently. “Your mate wants to cure her queendom, doesn’t she? The only way she’ll do that is by getting the Heart back from where it’s been taken.”
“Taken,” Skylar repeats. “To another world.” The words are flat, disbelieving—but she can’t quite work up the scathing tone, not with Astrid in danger like this. One wrong move… But what’s the right one?
She scoffs and, although she wants to dismiss it out of hand, the memory of her mother’s voice fills her head. You are not Blooded, Skylar.
And if she’s not Blooded…
Mad. This is totally mad.
“Time to decide, Skylar de Veras. Hand over the pin, allow me to prove that I’m right, or watch your mate die.”
Astrid’s throat bobs again, the knife pressing against her skin. If you hand it over, she’ll kill us anyway.
That’s not happening, okay? You’re not dying today.
She tries to think, but she’s still too calm.
She can see Axel’s Influence is keeping Zryan in check, too, stopping the full force of him from coming out.
All the Blooded around them are waiting.
Axel is watching her, though she doesn’t look at his face, too intent on Astrid.
If she uses her power from here, someone else will step in to take Axel’s place.
She might be quick enough. But if she’s not…
it will only take one move to slice Astrid’s throat—and there is no Curer here. She’d be dead in seconds.
She glances at Zryan, who gives her a grim nod. They are out of options, and she knows he’ll do anything to save Astrid.
She holds up her pin. “Okay.” Her heart is thumping, far too loud. “Okay.” She moves toward Axel slowly, the weight of everyone’s focus heavy on her.
Skylar looks away from Astrid’s face, to the tip of the knife, coated in red. Her blood heats as anger rises—the reaction to her mate in danger too strong for Axel to dampen. But she swallows it down as best she can. She has to be smart, not angry.
She looks directly at Axel only when she comes to a stop in front of him. His green eyes swim with something she’d rather not name, and he gives her a nod. She holds out the pin, flat on her palm, and he reaches to take it.
And in the instant that he loosens his grip on Astrid, Skylar moves, spinning to his side and pressing the pin to his throat. He stills, the knife at Astrid’s throat wavering. The queen makes some sort of noise of distress, but Skylar ignores her.
Axel turns his gaze on hers for one brief moment—and he must know, must be able to sense, what it is she’s about to do.
His expression changes—the determination replaced by a small, sad smile.
She feels it then, the full force of her emotions, almost enough to make her buckle.
She knows what he’s doing. Giving them back to her so she can feel, so that she makes this decision knowing full well what it means.
So she does. She stabs, hard, into the side of his throat, grabbing Astrid with her other hand and shoving her back—between her and Zryan.
Axel’s eyes go wide, and one hand comes up to try to stem the blood flow.
He falls to his knees and she goes with him, pulling the pin from his neck, blood spattering.
He gurgles, blood filling his airways, leaking from the corner of his mouth.
And she stays with him, on her knees, as he slumps to the ground, staring at him as he takes his final breath.