Chapter One
Tears stung Emmaline’s eyes as she stumbled through the dark manor.
Causley Estate looked so beautiful during the day, with plush furniture and color-themed rooms. Now, with only a few lanterns lighting her path, the shadows transformed the house into a maze.
All that guided her was her mother’s firm hand on her arm.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind them, accompanied by harsh curses as Niall hunted them through the halls.
Mama yanked Emmaline around corner after corner, until she would have been hopelessly lost even if she’d lived in the house her whole life. Niall’s cursing hinted at his location and how far he trailed behind them. When his voice faded, Mama stopped to check the closest door.
The knob turned easily under her hand, and she dragged Emmaline inside, closing the door with a soft click.
None of the ambient light from the hallway reached the room, and the storm clouds outside blotted out any moonlight.
They waited in the pitch dark, breath held, listening for any signs that Niall had found their hiding spot.
After a few minutes, an out of breath voice passed them, still muttering about bitches and witches.
Once he moved on, Mama whispered, “Find a window.”
Emmaline slowly walked through the room, one hand held out low in front of her, the other to her side. Her fingers brushed against the back of a chair and she side-stepped it, only to knock her shin against a low table. She hissed in a soft breath and bit her lip.
After two more close calls with the furniture, she finally brushed her hands against cool glass. “Here, Mama,” she whispered, hoping her mother heard her from all the way across the room. Emmaline traced the square panels, feeling around the edges until she found the lock. “I’ve got it open.”
Her mother’s soft hand landed on her shoulder. “Find somewhere to hide. When dawn comes, go to Litus. Tell Archer and Silas what happened,” Mama instructed, her voice low and urgent.
Emmaline started shaking her head before her mother finished speaking. “I’m not leaving without you and Penn!”
“My star,” her mother sighed. “I love you. I need to know you’re safe.”
The words ‘I can help’ froze on Emmaline’s tongue.
She knew they’d be a lie. She wasn’t a mage, a warrior, or even a fully trained medic.
What help could she offer? If she stayed to argue, they would both be captured.
With one last forlorn look at her mother’s silhouette, Emmaline climbed through the window and dropped down below the ledge.
The air still smelled like the storm that had kept them at the estate for the night, electrical and earthy. She inhaled deeply as she tried to orient herself, to determine which side of the manor she was on, and what path would lead her to safety.
A door slammed behind her, loud and clear through the open window. “There you are!”
Emmaline plastered herself against the side of the house and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her breathing.
Her mother’s voice rose to issue a warning: “One step closer, and I’ll show you why people fear the Witch.”
The air crackled around Emmaline and her hair slowly floated up around her.
Most people knew her mother as a kind-hearted healer.
They never saw the destructive storms she summoned to protect her loved ones.
Even Emmaline had only seen them a few times, like when men came to their cottage to take Silas away.
She had some vague memories of frequent, violent storms when she was little—watching the rainbow-colored lightning streak across the sky, falling asleep to the soothing rumble of thunder—but she never learned why her mother had created them.
“I’ll slit your throat and feed you to your own storm!”
“Stand down, Niall,” another voice interrupted him.
Since Emmaline had only met Valerian the day before, it took her a moment to recognize the voice.
Something was different about it—the cadence of his words, a new tone of superiority.
She’d seen him cradling Penn protectively and thought he’d won the mental battle against Niall’s master.
If Valerian lost, what happened to Penn? What will happen to Mama?
Emmaline had seen Alistair’s magic at work before. Watched a creature made of ice hold Silas underwater. Saw him almost bleed out from one of Alistair’s curses. Niall had only captured them because he’d caught them by surprise. Emmaline wasn’t sure her mother could defend herself against Alistair.
“You—” Niall began, then stumbled over his next words, “Oh, Master, it is you.”
What proof did he show Niall? Emmaline wanted to watch the confrontation but couldn’t risk exposing herself.
“Leave us,” Alistair ordered.
There was a long pause before Niall said, “No.”
“What?” Alistair’s voice was as cold and dangerous as a blizzard.
“Either you are my master, and we will stand against the witch together, or you’re the mercenary and a convincing actor, trying to trick me into letting you all escape. Leaving you alone with her would be a stupid mistake.”
“Do you think I’m too weak to fight one witch?”
“After the trials you’ve faced, I won’t take that chance.”
Another pause, and then: “We’ll discuss your insubordination later.” Followed by a heavy thump against the floor.
Mama sighed in relief. “I underestimated you, Valerian,” she admitted. “I really thought he’d won.”
Emmaline raised herself into a crouch to look through the window. Light leaked in from the open doorway, revealing Niall unconscious on the floor with Valerian standing over him.
Mama approached slowly. “Where’s Penn? We should leave now, before Niall wakes.”
“He’s getting dressed.”
Emmaline’s brow furrowed. Valerian’s voice still sounded odd, like he hadn’t quite shaken off the role he was playing. She remained crouched outside, staying out of view.
“Where will you go?” he asked, slowly approaching Mama. Illuminated from behind, his face was shrouded in shadows, obscuring his expression.
“To the cottage. I’ll examine you, make sure nothing of Alistair remains.”
“No, we won’t be joining you.”
“Valerian?” Mama’s voice grew wary, suspicious.
“Run away to your cottage, Witch,” the mage ordered. “Hide behind your little barrier and perhaps you’ll survive what happens next.”
“Alistair.” A flash of lightning accompanied the hissed name, illuminating the mage’s face. His head was half turned to the side, so all Emmaline could see was the smug curve of his lips and a gleaming, ice blue eye.
“Or you could stay,” he continued, untroubled by the threat of the building storm. “I’ve promised to allow you and your daughter to go free.” His gaze flitted to the window.
Emmaline’s eyes widened and she ducked down again, futilely hoping he hadn’t seen her.
“But I’m sure we can renegotiate. If you’re half as skilled as your reputation suggests, you’d undoubtedly be an asset.”
“I would never help you.”
“Even to save your daughter?”
An invisible fist gripped Emmaline’s mental shields. She’d built them out of roses and their thorny canes. Beautiful, dangerous, but not strong. Before she could react, he ripped a hole through the brambles and dug in his claws.
You should have listened to them and run, a sinister voice whispered through her mind.
She cried out and grabbed her head as she collapsed to her knees.
Get out! she shouted through her mind, over and over again, lacing the words with thorns.
As easily as the hole had opened, it swiftly closed.
Thorny canes twisted over each other, their sharp points burrowing into the invasive presence.
“Emmaline, run,” her mother ordered. Thunder boomed, drowning out anything else she said.
Emmaline wanted to argue, to stay with her mother until the end, but she understood the real meaning of Alistair’s threat: if she stayed behind, she would only be used to hurt her mother and further Alistair’s goals. She was a distraction, a hostage, a liability.
And if Alistair attacked her mind a second time, she wasn’t strong enough to force him back out.
Emmaline pushed herself to her feet and ran. Rainbow lightning flashed in the sky and thunder drowned out the world around her. The ground was soft and muddy, making her slip and slide through it. She fell twice, catching herself on her hands and knees, and shoved herself back up each time.
She didn’t know how long it took her to reach Sparrow Hill, where their horses were stabled at the inn. The storm was further away from town, so the clouds were thinner here, exposing the first hints of dawn. She pushed through the inn’s door and collapsed in the front room.
Shocked exclamations rose around her, but they seemed faded and far away. The tears she’d held back all night finally slipped down her cheeks, further proof of her weakness.
Mama … Penn … I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t even help them. I wasn’t strong enough to keep Alistair out of my head.
People gathered around Emmaline, making a fuss, like she was a lost child in need of help. She wanted to push them away, to scream her sorrows at them. In the end, she bit her tongue and allowed them to help her up.
Only one person deserved her newfound rage.