Chapter 29 #2
Horror drags its nails down my spine. How is Koa allowing this to happen?
“Where is everyone else?” I ask.
“Etta is preparing a group to portal there and fight. Having you both there would be helpful,” she says, then adds, “Please.”
“Take us there,” Asmo demands.
She leads us to the main training room, where a dozen hybrids and two towering Fae males are strapping all manners of weapons to their person: daggers, swords, and small axes. One female straps a bow and arrow to her back.
Etta is locked in conversation with a Fae male who looks like he might eat me for breakfast. She turns as the door thuds shut behind us. “Oh, great, Rain found you. Suit up,” she says, tossing me a dagger. I slow its path with my wind and snatch it from the air.
“What do you know?” Asmo asks Etta as he stalks toward the wall of weapons.
“One of our scouts returned from a patrol early. Apparently, a group of citizens thought it would be a good idea to chain themselves to the gallows in protest of the executions. The witches caught wind of it and decided to execute them there. Citizens and shopkeepers decided to fight back this time. It’s a bloodbath,” she answers, helping a yellow-eyed female secure a massive sword to her back.
Asmo grabs his belt of daggers and secures them around his waist. “How many witches?”
“Ten. Black-leather,” the yellow-eyed female answers. “Their pets are also on the loose.”
Great.
“Has anyone killed a witch before?” I ask as I glance skeptically around the room.
“That’s why we need you two,” Etta says. “You have to burn them. Fire is the only thing I know that works. Some of our hybrids can summon fire, but not with the range or intensity that I’ve seen you two demonstrate.”
My heart drops into my stomach as I process what she says. Asmo and I are going into a real battle. Because we are the only ones capable of defeating the witches. Ten of them.
Asmo must catch the expression on my face, because he grabs my hand and squeezes it once before letting it go. He stands tall and clears his throat, crossing his hands behind his back as he lifts his chin and puffs his chest out.
A leader.
I mimic him, trying to summon the kind of confidence he emanates. He’s had a lifetime of building it. I’ve had months.
“Listen up,” Asmo booms. “There are black-leather witches and the Cursed. Mae and I will keep our eyes and ears open, ready to assist you in any way we can. The best way to handle this will be if you all distract the witches long enough for us to sneak up behind them and torch them alive. But I’m open to any other ideas. ”
He glances around the ragtag group of fighters, waiting for someone to offer a better idea. Nobody does.
“Anything to add, High Queen?” He glances at me and my heart swells.
I stifle my smile and force myself to look at every single male and female in front of me.
I etch their faces into my memory. I could be signing their death warrants.
“I’m not sure what kinds of creatures will be there, but I have fought—and killed—many cambions.
Cut their head off, burn their bodies, or chop them into pieces.
The Cursed are scary, but they can be killed.
Kill the witches and it kills the creatures they control.
We can do this. We have to do this. We are the only hope for these people. Be brave and be strong.”
They nod in unison.
“Can any of you funnel?” Asmo asks the group. Several raise their hands. “Good. Take two or three hybrids with you and funnel into separate locations, then we’ll attack from a different side. I’ll leave you to figure out your funnel destinations. We leave in five minutes.”
Etta stands in the corner of the room watching us. She wears a simple white linen shirt and leather pants, but no weapons.
“Aren’t you coming with?” I ask as the group disbands to strap even more weaponry to their bodies.
“I can’t, but Amaris will be joining in a moment.”
“Why can’t you?” I press. If I’m going, why can’t she?
She shakes her head once, a look of shame written across her face. “I don’t have powers anymore. They’re gone.”
I cringe, both at the thought of losing my magic and for pressing her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. My magic is something that feels like another, living extension of me, of my soul. To have it ripped away would be like losing a part of me.
Etta crosses her arms and looks back up at me, her gaze now hardened. “Don’t be. Just make them pay.”
I nod, but what I really want to say is, I have no clue what I’m doing.
Amaris strides in, a look of determination on her face.
If anyone knows what they’re doing when it comes to fighting, it’s her.
She’s in her usual uniform—black leather pants, black leather vest, dagger hilts from every pocket.
Her posture is strong, and her stride is steady, measured.
She acknowledges me with a brief bow, then heads to the two Fae males in the corner.
Asmo carves a mark into his stomach, but it’s different from the usual one. It’s two slashes, a third one cutting between them. “What is that?” I ask.
“Keeps me clothed after I shift. Don’t want to be running around naked fighting witches, do I?” He smiles, but he seems nervous.
This is just another reminder of how much he knows about dark magic. How much he’s hiding from me. He carves a second sigil next to it, the oval and the X, then hands me the knife.
“Let’s go,” Asmo barks after I carve my sigil.
We walk toward the group of Lower House members willing to fight and defend the citizens of a kingdom that tossed them to the side.
Let’s make them pay. Let’s make them all pay.