10
Orchids in the Dark
Blair
Two phantom wyverns descend from the clouds carrying riders on their backs, crimson cloaks fluttering behind them like flags announcing the death of anyone who crosses them. The beasts are half-solid, half-spectral monsters, wings slicing the air with a wailing sound.
Fuck me, no!
Of all monsters roaming these skies, not the witches. Not my damn former coven. I’m not sure my heart can stand a confrontation with any of the women who looked up to me, fought and killed and looted under my command. Who had my back more often than I can count.
That demon—Aris, as Melody calls him—growls low, still crouching beside Melody. But he’s so small now, so vulnerable, that he looks more like an incredibly cute blue dog than a demon.
“As long as you can’t shift back into that nice, intimidating dragon, I suppose you better chill. Charming them into leaving with cuteness won’t work,” I mutter at him, my eyes never leaving the witches.
Melody’s hand is tightly closed around the Nefarian sword.
Not that it would be of much help against magic.
And as far as I’m aware, Melody’s magic is almost fully spent, so she’s practically without any at the moment.
And I’m naked—from my now-whitish roots, over my saucy butt, down to my slightly unmanicured toes—after my nice time in Caryan’s dungeon, damn it.
But the worst part is that I have no damn magic.
We are so fucking fucked.
I straighten my spine as I stare at the approaching beasts.
Two wyverns. Only two. My heart does somersaults when the riders and their mounts come into clearer view.
Can it be? That gray, hellish beast of my mom, Sofya—a colossus as vicious as he is massive—named Thyrox, and Vyren, that sleek, blue beauty my other mother, Aurora, rides.
Vyren snaps out her wings. Thyrox’s claws slam into the ground a split second later. Both witches are already off their mounts and running toward me, magic flaring in their open palms.
“Blair—” Melody warns as I step between them and her and Aris.
“Stay calm,” I order, never taking my eyes off my mothers.
“Blair...” Aurora finally skitters to a halt a few feet away, the magic dying in her hands before she can unleash it. Her deep-blue eyes are wide and disbelieving, her voice like shattered glass. “We thought you were…”
“Are you alright?” I blurt, because it’s the first thing on my guilt- and pain-ridden mind and, suddenly, the only thing that matters—the only thing that ever mattered to me.
Sofya’s incredulous snort fills the air.
“That’s my girl. Sedating us, then bolting with a letter that says, once we read it, she’s probably dead—only to ask if we’re alright.
While she’s standing ass-naked on a mountain cliff with her hair white as mine,” Sofya—the most beautiful witch I’ve ever seen, who’s my second mom—drawls, amused.
But her eyes stay hard, and I can see a weight falling from her shoulders.
A split second later, she pulls me into a tight hug.
“Alive. You are alive,” she whispers so quietly only I can hear. The moment lasts only a second. Then she steps back, both hands on my shoulders, her eyes scrutinizing my face. “Now tell us—what the heck are you doing here?”
“Well, long story. And same question back—what are you doing here?”
“We’re patrolling the area,” Aurora cuts in. “We’ve heard Nefarians have been spotted here. But never did we think we’d find you—”
Before she finishes the sentence, Aurora steps forward and pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
My heart shatters all over as I inhale my mother’s scent.
Lilies and gooseberries. Sofya stays on guard, watching the now unbearably cute demon and Melody, who returns her gaze with a vigilant and very confused expression, her brown eyes wide.
Aurora finally lets go of me. She juts her chin up, her eyes blazing like stars. “Perenilla must never know we’ve found you. You must flee this world, Blair. We’ll help you both.”
She produces from her coat pocket the leathery map I once bartered for with the blacksmith in Akribea.
I left it behind at the Inn at the Crossroads, along with my sedated mothers, when I went to face Caryan.
It’s an old pig hide that shows places of power.
My mothers must’ve taken it once they woke up.
“Go to the human world. We’ll help you open a portal.”
My heart plummets. You’d need three very powerful witches and a place of power—where wild veins of magic cross the ground—to open a portal like that.
“I have no magic anymore,” I blurt. My voice cracks. I’ve never felt more ashamed in my whole gods-damned life. “I failed. Caryan took it. I messed up everything.”
“She saved my life,” Melody suddenly says, coming up behind me.
My head snaps up. I hadn’t even heard her. My mothers look at her, then back at me. Then both nod once.
“I believe she did. She’s always had a good heart,” Sofya says, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. Sofya has always been the badass one. The witch with a temper impossible to control. Like a storm bundled in a body with eyes like the clearest water.
“I know you’re disappointed,” I say quietly, heart breaking as it thrashes against my ribs. “And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what a failure I am.”
Aurora steps forward and cups my cheek gently, careful not to let her claws scratch my skin. I wish she would lash out. Because the nine hells know I deserve it. I never deserved their love.
She lifts my chin with her clawed forefinger so I have to look into her sky-colored eyes.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologize for what you are, Blair—for what you’ve become.
Because you became everything your real mother, Sofya, and I wished you to become one day.
Everything—and so much more than we ever dreamed. ”
“I hit rock bottom. I’m nothing. I don’t even have my red hair anymore.
” My voice cracks. Tears well in my eyes.
Such a mortal trait—crying. One I’ll have to get used to, it seems, now that I’m practically mortal, save for a few perks, like fast healing.
“Perenilla was right, and my Aunt Gatilla before her. I’m a dreamer and nothing else. ”
I can’t help it. I spit out the bitterness inside me.
Let them see all the darkness. Aurora’s remarkable eyes widen just a fraction when she sees the tears.
As if I just announced I’ve got my rainbow-scaled dragon back.
My wyvern. My magical creation. My friend.
Bound to my soul. One I would never see again.
When Aurora speaks again, her voice is the softest I’ve ever heard. “You are so much like your mother. She was a dreamer, too, you know, but more in a literal sense. She could dream the future, Blair.”
“Yeah, I know. She knew I’d kill her and got me anyway.
If not for me, she’d still be alive. Biggest mistake ever.
” I spit out the darkest, ugliest part of me.
I feel like a cat trying to dry-heave up her own fur, but it gets stuck halfway in her throat.
The lump that settled deep in my soul centuries ago, sprouted roots and festered.
I killed my mother when that glorious woman gave birth to me.
I don’t deserve love. I came into the world a monster and should be shunned. Hated. Burned.
“No!” Sofya steps forward, claws flexing. Her long, white hair glistens like water under the moon. Their red cloaks—still the symbol of the red coven I once led—dance behind them like flags of rebellion, or mockery.
My eyes go to Sofya, but she suddenly stills, listening to the wind. Thyrox at her side roars a warning, flapping his massive wings. Sofya shares a glance with Aurora, then looks back at me.
“We don’t have much time, Blair. I’m sorry we never got the chance to tell you, but we swore to wait for the right moment. Do you remember when we raised you in the woods until you were four or five? In that hut, near where the dwarves lived?”
My throat burns. I nod. I’ll never forget the best time of my life, even if the memories are only fragments. But those moments were filled with joy. With love.
“Until Gatilla ordered us back? Aurora and I feared it was too soon. That we didn’t have enough time,” Sofya says quickly, urgency growing in her voice as the wyverns grow more restless.
“We prayed the love we gave you would be enough. Enough to withstand your aunt’s poison.
We’re so sorry, Blair. We knew a world with joy and music, laughter and dancing.
We desperately wished to raise you in that world.
And the day you suggested we leave for the human world—we wanted nothing more than to go with you. But we couldn’t.”
Sorrow etches Sofya’s perfect face. “Your mother died before she could carry you to term. But it wasn’t you who caused her death, Blair. We swore never to tell you until the time was right. It broke our hearts to let you live with that burden. But we promised her.”
All I can do is stare. My mouth falls open. I would have swayed, faltered—if not for Melody suddenly threading her fingers through mine. Her warmth steadies me as truth tries to unwind the wound in my soul.
“Your mother was a dreamer. She died because she lied to your aunt. About your future. She knew you were essential for the fate of this world. Gatilla forced her to reveal your fate. So your mother lied. And since fae can’t lie, she died because of it.
We made it look as though she died in labor, but she sacrificed herself for you.
“She saw our future, Blair. She saw that girl in it too. She saw Melody and you.” She briefly looks at Melody.
“She asked us a month before you were born if we were ready to raise you. And we were. You gave us everything. We have no regrets—except that we do not have more time.” Tears glimmer in Sofya’s eyes.
“Forgive us, Blair. We couldn’t tell you sooner. Not with Perenilla.”
Before I can answer, Aurora’s head jerks up. Vyren behind her snaps her massive jaw in the air.
“They’re coming,” Aurora warns, still cupping my face. “We’ll open the portal. Go now. You’ll find your way.”
I finally snap out of my haze. I hear the wings, too, now—witches riding in on wind and magic. Not the red coven. The others. The ones who want me, heir to Gatilla’s throne, dead.
“The two of you won’t have enough magic,” I say sharply, my voice ragged. My mother—she sacrificed herself? It wasn’t me.
“But Melody has magic, too, doesn’t she?” Sofya asks, tilting her head. Melody nods once, utterly calm in the presence of monsters.
“She doesn’t know how to use it. It’s dangerous,” I warn.
“We’ll guide her. Do you trust us, Melody?”
Melody nods, impressively determined and fearless for someone her age. For a second, I’m strangely proud of her. My mothers lift their clawed hands. Witch magic starts to swirl around their fingers in crackling orange, calling to the veins in the soil.
Sofya extends her hand to Melody. “Power-share with us. Together, we can open the portal.”
Melody takes it—her other hand still holding mine. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.
“Let your magic’s barrier down. Reach for the current under our feet. Hold on to us—nothing else.”
Melody does, and the wild magic suddenly rises and an oval vortex flares between two ancient stones that have been placed there by gods know who in a long-forgotten past. Probably remnants of a temple, built over a place of power where the veins of wild magic cross.
“It works,” Aurora breathes, sweat gleaming on her brow. “Go, Blair! We can’t hold it long.”
“Come with me,” I beg.
Sofya answers. “We can’t. But your mother saw your happiness. She promised you’d find it. Remember how we used to sneak out on your birthdays to pick night-blooming orchids for Aurora?”
“Of course I remember,” I say, voice thick.
“Then go,” Aurora whispers. “If you love Sofya and me, then go. Go for us.”
“Perenilla’s going to kill you for this.” Fear slices my heart, ready to tear me open and cut me in half. Let me bleed out.
Sofya just snarls, “Let her try.”
Before I can retort, the sky above us splits open.
The clouds part and an armada of phantom wyverns plunges toward us, a blur of wings and glowing eyes and silver-flashing claws and teeth.
They all lift their hands in the air and orange flames spring to life in their palms, forming one large blast of fire over their heads.
My heart stops when, with a flick of their wrists, they unleash it on us.
“GO!”
Before I know it, Sofya grabs Melody—who scoops up Aris—and Aurora grabs me. And they shove us through the portal with witch-strength.
Just before the coven’s magic hits us.