Chapter Sixty-Two Blodwyn
Chapter Sixty-Two
Blodwyn
Crows shriek above our heads. Witches wilt mid-battle and claw at their chests, as if their very hearts are about to burst. The shadow creatures cheer, their crimson eyes feral.
“What’s happened?” I call to Ayleth above the tumult. “You said that would work!”
But she just stands there, horror-struck as she watches the scene unfold.
“I told you!” Sindony shouts, her expression twisted in pain. “You’re killing the magic! Killing us!”
Several witches are already scattered, lifeless, on the ground.
But there’s no hope of retrieving the crown.
It’s buried too deeply in the pyre. Another spear of lightning pummels the palace.
We duck as part of an upper-story balcony crashes into the courtyard.
Panic rings, high and tinny in my ears. We have to do something. Have to—
Heat sears through my hand.
I turn my palm up. The three crossed lines I carved in Millicent’s tower are glowing. My brow furrows. The same thing occurred in the throne room when Papa was trying to convince me to take Ayleth’s heart.
Past, present, and future, Millicent’s faraway voice echoes in my mind. A promise.
An idea begins to form, one that seems completely impossible. But it might be the only chance we have.
“Ayleth,” I say, shaking her out of her stupor. “Look. What about this?”
I show her my palm. She blinks at it, then glances at her own mark. The three lines are blazing with light, just like mine.
Her brow furrows. “What does this mean?”
“Millicent said this mark was a promise,” I tell her. “One to honor magic in all its forms. You drew it, too. Maybe that’s what brought me back from the poison—both of us making that vow together. Perhaps it can help us now.”
“Honor magic,” Ayleth repeats in a murmur, tracing the triangle on her own palm.
Another bolt of lightning splits the sky and more of the palace collapses.
“I have an idea,” Ayleth says, standing up straighter. “Get everyone to the fire—as many as possible.”
There’s no time for questions. I motion to Verity and Gavin, who immediately veer in our direction. Jacquetta helps Sindony and a few other witches over to the flames. The battle still rages, the storm howling above. Nox keeps close, fending off attacks.
“What’s this about?” Roland demands when he reaches us, still breathless. His face is soot-smudged and a cut weeps from the side of his face. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re all about to die!”
“Not if I can help it.” Ayleth raises her voice to be heard. “Blodwyn says that Millicent spoke of balance. That magic and Malum must come together. We need to do that. Here. Now.”
“We?” Joan asks. “But we’re not—”
“Witches, I know,” Ayleth replies in a rush. “But you all carry latent magic in your hearts. We have to bind it together. That’s how we restore the balance of power.”
She looks to me and that place on my palm throbs. A blast sounds near the palace. Cassandra screams as she’s hurled backward. Shade’s ember-like eyes glow with fury as they turn toward us.
“Hurry!” I shout.
Ayleth pales but nods. She rushes to redraw the triangle on herself and passes me her blade.
My fingers tremble as I drag it over the lines of Millicent’s mark, then thrust the knife at Verity, who does the same.
Then the rest of them. When the last person finally finishes, we form a circle.
I suspect the storm somehow understands that we’re working against it because it growls louder, the wind picking up and stirring the pyre.
“NOW!” Ayleth yells. “Join the magic!”
She grabs my hand on one side and I take Verity’s on the other. The chain continues, our hands locking, witch and mortal and Dwarf blood beating together. And then—
Thunder booms above us. The ground quakes. At first, I assume it’s Shade or the others launching an attack. But no—a golden light shimmers in the depths of the fire. It intensifies, growing larger and brighter, until it surges upward and into the sky. And then—
A streak of gold, like a falling star, plummets toward us and slams into the blaze.
Into me. I shudder at the impact. At the sensation of that other force spreading through my limbs, twining around my bones and coursing through my veins.
My feet lift off the ground. My very skin pulls taut and I’m sure it will rip into a thousand pieces.
That whatever power we summoned was too much for my body to contain.
But then my knees hit the ground and cold night air floods my lungs.
The fire has guttered, leaving only smoking remains.
The storm heaves a final growl and then recedes, clouds rolling back to reveal the starry sky above.
The rest of our circle is scattered around me, all of them as spent and dazed as I am.
“Blodwyn.” Verity pushes herself up from where she fell. “You’re…glowing.”
I look down at my hands, confused. Because I am glowing. My skin pulses with the same light I saw in the fire. Like my very blood has transformed into molten gold. And it hums, warm and sparkling as it travels through my veins.
“What is this?” I murmur.
“It worked!” The voice snaps me out of my trance. It’s Sindony. She’s smiling, which I have never seen her do, her hands pressed to her chest. “I can feel it again. I can feel it!”
Other witches nod, laughing and hugging one another. A few of them are crying, tears streaming down their faces. One of them tests her abilities, making flames spark to life in the fire and sobbing with relief. I turn to ask Ayleth what it all means, but she isn’t there.
Instead, I spot her a short distance away, kneeling beside a heap on the ground. The world is still a bit dizzy, but I pick my way through the wreckage of the courtyard to reach her. When I see what she’s discovered, I stop short.
Cassandra’s body is sprawled among the debris, her eyes open and glassy.
Her mouth contorted in a scream. Ayleth just sits there, frozen.
I hesitate, unsure how to react. I can’t mourn Cassandra’s death.
But I know what it’s like to lose a mother.
To be betrayed by the person who is supposed to be closest to you.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want this for her.”
“I know you didn’t,” Ayleth replies quietly. “Part of me hoped that if this worked, she might come back to her senses. But…she was too far gone.”
The pain in her voice causes my own throat to tighten.
“She saved you, in the end,” I say. “She cared for you.”
Ayleth swallows. “Not enough.”
Tenderly, she closes Cassandra’s eyes. I’m not sure what else to say. And I don’t get the chance. Footsteps pound toward us.
“Blodwyn!” Gavin calls. “When I saw what happened…are you glowing?”
At that, Ayleth turns. Her eyes widen as she takes me in. “You are.”
“It happened after whatever we did,” I explain, self-conscious.
A crease digs between Ayleth’s brows. “Could it be…the power Millicent gave you? Do you feel any different?”
“I did at the time. It was like my whole body was on fire, but…in a good way.”
“Like coming alive,” Ayleth says, more to herself than to me.
“Yes,” I agree. “But what—”
“You might want to discuss this later,” Gavin interrupts. “The king managed to muster the guard and—”
The clank of steel cuts him off. Dozens of armed men march into the courtyard, fanning out until we’re surrounded.
Archers appear in the broken windows or perch on the remnants of the crumbling balconies.
Ayleth scrambles to her feet, motioning to Nox, who bounds over to us.
Gavin steps closer to me, protective, as another person strides out from the palace:
Papa.
He halts at the head of the guard, surveying the damage. Nox snarls, his massive teeth bared.
“Well,” Papa says, “it seems you’ve taken care of half my problem for me, wife. But that won’t save you from your fate.”
At his signal, the guards advance. A nearby witch reacts, shouting a spell that sends the slab of a stone balcony flying across the courtyard.
It plows into the line of men, knocking them down like pins.
The archers respond in kind, releasing a volley of arrows.
Gavin shields me as they whistle past my ears.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m getting you out of here.”
I’m not going anywhere. I’m tired of the endless violence. The shifting alliances. It’s time to stop all this—now. Driven by an unknown instinct, I raise my hands and shout:
“Enough!”
The word reverberates through the courtyard, so strong that bits of stone shake loose from the higher floors.
The next wave of arrows falls flat midair.
Swords bend as they swing, the metal rusting and warping.
Witches’ spells die on their lips and arcs of magic fizzle before they strike. Had I done that?
I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified.
“Well,” Papa says, his boots clipping on the stones as he descends the stairs. “It certainly seems like you’ve harnessed that power of yours, Daughter. I’m quite proud of you.”
But the look he gives me isn’t pride. It’s hunger.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warn.
“My, my.” Papa clicks his tongue. “You’ve certainly grown teeth. But, I’m curious. How far are you willing to go? Do you actually believe the realm will stand behind you, knowing what you are?”
I bristle, fighting the urge to shrink against his scrutiny.
“I don’t know,” I admit, lifting my chin. “But this realm will not stand behind you any longer. Not after what you’ve done. Surrender and you won’t be harmed.”
Tension builds in the courtyard. Papa hesitates, weighing his options. I’m not sure what I’ll do if he refuses. Gavin clearly has an idea. Steel sings as he pulls his blade.
“A generous offer,” Papa says. “But I spent the last three years locked in a prison. If you want to put me back there, you’ll have to pry the throne away from me yourself.”
He sneers, grabs the nearest sword from his guard, and charges.
“Callen!”