Chapter 38 #2
Relief floods through me. Even though Artis and Torben have been thorns in my side, I resist the urge to fall out of my chair and worship at her feet for those four words.
We have a fighting chance. Or at least, we have a greater chance than we did previously.
A flicker of hope settles in my chest and I want to cup my hands around it, to protect it from extinguishing.
Ever since Marik took the throne, I’ve felt like everything we’ve done has been a failure.
Until now. Finally, we have some help. We’re not doing this alone.
“Our citizens are eager to fight, to put a stop to the torture of our wildlife and our forest. The witches have done enough. We are ready to take up arms,” Artis says.
We spend the remainder of our meeting discussing everything that’s happened since we last saw them—Etta’s revival, my capture and subsequent escape, the Mother’s dreams, the prophecy, the victories we’ve had, and the lives we’ve saved.
Barrett agrees to meet with August to share all the information from today.
By the time we’ve finished speaking, postures have slumped and eyes have begun to grow heavy.
Artis stands and clasps her hands together, her sage green gown shifting. “Our guest quarters in The Den are not as spacious as the quarters above, but they will serve their purpose until the sun rises.”
“Thank you, Artis, but that’s alright,” I respond as I rise.
“I haven’t slept in a bed with my mate in…
quite some time.” Asmo inches closer to me, and I swallow my smile.
“If we can’t defend ourselves against a few witches and their creatures long enough to funnel back to our home, I question our ability to defend ourselves against an army of them. ”
Torben eyes me with something like respect. I always underestimate the weight of brute strength in a male’s mind.
“Thank you for believing in me,” I say to the King and Queen of Bears. Even though you didn’t before and now you have no choice. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I force them back down. Instead, I smile. “Barrett, would you mind escorting us out?”
When we’re back in the hallway, Barrett turns to me, thick brows drawn together. “You’re not really planning on going out there, are you?”
“I am.”
Asmo chuckles behind me. I look back to my ragtag group, to my friends, my mate, my family. “If anybody is uncomfortable going outside, you’re welcome to stay here and portal back to Squall’s End tomorrow.”
Amaris extracts two newly sharpened daggers, the white tattoos on her arms swirling. “You know my answer.”
Basil’s smile widens. “Not a shot, Your Highness.”
Etta tries—and fails—to hide her giggle, and Holly glances at her with adoration. Ivan looks at me with…something that I think might be pride. And Asmo, of course, stares at me like I’m the sun.
We exit the safety and warmth of The Den, and Barrett gestures for us all to be silent as we begin the long, arduous trek back up the stairs.
No more light filters in through the top windows, so we climb in silence and darkness.
Over the sounds of our breathing, faint animal screams and bellows filter in through the walls, growing louder with every step.
We crest the stairs, and Barrett pulls me into a silent hug. He gives me a look that I interpret as Are you sure you want to do this?
I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze, meeting his warm brown eyes once more before turning and facing the door. Asmo joins me, lacing his fingers with mine.
The night air is frigid, the cold wrapping me in its grip like a fist. A scattering of stars peeks through trees that have been scorched, yet still reach for the sky.
The Mother created this forest eons ago, and it still stands.
She created me and my mate to protect this forest. She gifted me with the ability to pull from Her creation, to funnel its life and vitality and pour it into my magic.
To help, to defend, to protect those who cannot protect themselves.
To serve as a beacon of hope, a symbol of strength and courage.
An animal growls in warning, followed by the cackle of a witch. I look to my right, to the night-drenched male standing beside me. Who once told me it’s okay to be scared, that all that counts is what you do in the face of terror. He looks at me now, a soft smile on his handsome face.
“Make them wish they were back in Hell, princess,” he says.
I match my mate’s smile over the sounds of witches screaming, knowing it will be the last time they utter a sound.
I look back over my shoulder. Amaris, Holly, Etta, Ivan, and Basil all meet my gaze, hands out and ready, looks of determination on their faces.
“Not too late to get out of here,” I say.
“We’re with you, Your Highness,” Ivan says, shoulders back and stance wide. Steady.
“Etta?”
She smirks. “I may have lost my magic, but Basil has been teaching me a thing or two since.” She nudges him, and a gleam shines in his yellow eyes. Holly’s mouth twists into a frown, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.
“We will protect you, my queen,” Amaris says, dipping her head in reverence.
“Who said I need protecting?” I ask.
She offers me a flash of a smile, then pulls a third dagger from her vest. Once I’m back on the throne—because I will make it back—I need to ask our seamstress to create something like that for me. Or two. I know Elle would lose her mind to have something like that.
My heart squeezes in my chest as I think about her. My friend. My sister. If she were here now, she’d be the first to jump at the opportunity to slay witches.
“Let’s do it, then.” I turn back to face the forest and raise my voice.
“I am the High Queen of the Woodland Kingdom, Queen of the Deer, and Protector of the Forest. You have destroyed what is Mother-created and Mother-blessed. You have slaughtered innocent animals and desecrated their homes. This is your chance to leave now or forever be silenced.”
The cackling stops, replaced by an eerie silence. For a moment, I question my choices. But then I remember the male beside me, and my friends behind me.
Dark figures emerge from the forest and stand in between the trees. I spread my hands and summon my magic, feeling it warm my very bones as it rises to the surface. It spreads through me like a living thing, desperate to be released.
And then all hell breaks loose.
The figures surge toward us, witches and cambions and a small army of the Cursed.
I summon wind and water, flinging a wave of ice to meet them.
Several witches yelp, but they don’t go down.
Asmo splays his hand toward two incoming witches, black auras writhing around them.
His quicksand freezes them in place. Tree roots jump from the ground behind them and bind the witches’ arms behind their backs.
Their screams are cut short by Amaris’s daggers finding home in their throats.
I summon the daggers, blood spurting as they’re yanked from the witches’ necks. Asmo hurls black fire at them, burning them alive as they writhe in his quicksand. I return the daggers to Amaris, the witch’s blood still dripping from them.
Over her shoulder, a witch beelines for her exposed back, one hand raised with black magic swirling in her palm.
She hurls it toward Amaris. I shove Amaris to the ground, but it just puts her directly in the path of the ball of magic.
It collides with her vest and bounces off.
Yeah, I really need to get one of those.
I leap over Amaris and summon my flames. They wrap around the witch like an old friend. She dies screaming. Another one jumps from a nearby tree, landing on her hands and feet. I don’t let her get up. I use my other hand to aim a ball of fire at her, catching her perfectly and turning her to ash.
Amaris sprints toward a Cursed bear that’s reaching its paw toward Asmo’s back. She splays her hand and the bear shifts its course, swiping toward a nearby witch instead. The witch screams in anger, then hurls a burst of black magic at Amaris. She chuckles as she dodges it.
“I’ve been waiting for my revenge for years,” she says. A grin spreads across her face as she leaps into the air and slashes. Her dagger draws a gruesome split down the witch’s face, from eye to chin.
Basil jumps into the air and shifts into his owl form, his feathers the color of smoke. He soars behind me and I turn as he embeds his talons into a witch’s ears and yanks, wrenching her head from her body.
Holy shit.
Feet away, Asmo is locked in combat with another witch, dodging blows of black magic and swipes from her deadly nails. The witch’s back is turned to me, so I pounce, shoving white-hot flames into her and incinerating her from the inside out.
Her body turns limp and I fall with her, my knees striking the ground. Asmo hauls me up with a frown on his face. “I was having fun.”
I roll my eyes. He grabs my arm and forces me behind him. I whirl, just in time to see him throw up a shield. Writhing balls of black magic explode against it.
Basil cuts through the sky, talons slicing the witch’s extended arms. She bats him away, but he dodges and soars directly toward her. And sinks his talons into her eyes. She falls to her knees with a scream, blood the color of the night sky gushing through her fingers as she grasps her face.
Holly’s roots snap the witch’s hands down to her sides and crawl over her lap, forcing her to the ground.
I survey the clearing. Ivan and Etta go up against two witches, back-to-back. Holly’s roots, sharp as spears, punch through the ground at the witches’ feet. Asmo fires black flames at a small group of cambions that sprint toward us.
I don’t see any other witches or any other impending attack.
The witch trapped by Holly’s roots looks to the sky with blackened, bleeding eyes. I walk to her and kneel. “I warned you, witch.” My voice is a whisper, but it shuts her screaming up all the same.
“You’ll never win,” she hisses at me. “The Sister has yet to come. She’ll wipe you off the face of your kingdom for the lives you’ve taken from her.”
“Maybe so,” I say as I place my hands over her mouth. She snaps her jaw open and closed, teeth seeking purchase into my skin, but they don’t land. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Tell her I said hi when you go back to Hell.” I shove my flames into her mouth.
When I rise, everyone is dusting themselves off or wiping blood and guts from their weapons. Amaris’s white hair is covered in sprays of black and red blood. I imagine mine looks no different.
Basil lets out a holler—in celebration, fuck you, or a combination of both, I’m not sure.
I glance around, but find no more cambions, witches, or anything that reeks of black magic.
A squirrel hops toward me and places a paw on my scuffed boot before bowing its head.
A chipmunk follows suit, then a rabbit. When I lift my head, rabbits, badgers, hedgehogs, raccoons, and foxes stare back at me.
Several deer emerge from behind the trees and watch us carefully.
They step aside to allow a line of bears to pass, the corpses of the undead in their mouths. They lumber toward me and drop Cora’s abominations at my feet. Limp, hollow-eyed children stare back at me, great drabar lay unmoving, and skeletal remains of Cursed animals lay broken.
I summon fire and set the pile of bodies alight. They burn and begin their journey back to the Mother, where they belong. “May their souls rest in peace.” My voice is a whisper against the smoke.
The smell of death—of burning hair and rotten flesh and putrid guts—has me breathing through my mouth, but we stay until the fire dies. The sound of the crackling flames giving way to the silent night air is a relief. No more witches haunt this forest.
Asmo pulls me to him, his hand snaking around my waist. A sudden rush of exhaustion slams into me at his touch, and I fight to remain standing.
I resist the urge to groan as I think about the number of steps that stand between me and my bed.
Asmo turns to me and scoops me in his arms, as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.
“How did you know?” I ask, fighting the urge to shut my eyes.
“Perks of the bond, princess.”
“How, though?”
He hesitates, but squeezes me tighter. “You’ll feel it someday.” It’s the last thing I hear before my eyes close and sleep takes me.