34 Elowen
34 Elowen
The revel room packed in more bodies than Elowen had ever seen inside a single place. Clares had been hired to pass out drinks
and work the bar in character. She couldn’t make out Beatrice, Hugh, or the real Clare among them. Live musicians used a magical
amplifier that made their tunes so loud Elowen’s body actually shook with every note. It smelled like body odor and perfume
oils had gotten into a war that neither side could ever win. And the entire room was green from the crystal lights that shot
out like swords, slicing through the tightly packed crowd.
On a raised platform, Myke Lycroft made sure he was visible to everyone in the entire space. He held the Sword of Souls, delighting
in not just the physical weight of it, but the heavy emotions inside. It disgusted Elowen to sense the joy he felt. He lifted
the sword up to the crystallized lights, downright aroused by its power, then tilted his head down to chat with someone below
him.
Elowen nearly fainted when she realized who was on the other side of the conversation. Todrick.
The corpse of Todrick.
His body had been charmed to hide signs of decay, but even that could not erase the uncanny stillness of him. The strange
sheen of his cheeks. The brittle dullness of his lifeless hair. He had been rendered to smile, frozen in a state of horrific
bliss.
Elowen and Vandra had only a moment to compose themselves before their uncostumed presence would become notable. Elowen could not afford to panic. Instead she grabbed Vandra’s hand, squeezing her fingers quickly beneath her cloak.
“May the Ghosts keep us safe,” she whispered.
“We don’t need the Ghosts. I will keep you safe,” Vandra replied. And then she cleared her throat and burst forth, dragging
Elowen by the wrist. “ Myyyyke ,” she sing-songed, raising her voice to be heard over the chaotic music. “I come to you bearing gifts!”
Elowen did not have to pretend to resist. She channeled her every anxiety and fear into this moment, and her body reacted
as it normally would, by pulling back, desperate to recede into the shadows.
“Vandra Ravenfall,” Myke said back. “To what do we owe this misfortune?” He gestured down to Todrick as if Todrick was an
active participant in the conversation.
“It’s only misfortune when I’m not on your side,” Vandra cooed once they reached the ground, where dead Todrick sat with his
hollow half-smile, staring at them with empty eyes. “Lucky for you, I’ve seen the error of my ways, and I’ve come to pledge
my devotion to the Fraternal Order. To prove I’m honest with my word, I’ve brought you something valuable.”
Vandra’s voice was sinister in its sweetness, but Elowen knew the heart of the woman behind the deception. She didn’t need
to feel Vandra’s emotions anymore to know that the love between them was strong enough to withstand whatever lengths they
had to go to for access to the Sword of Souls.
Elowen—fearing her comfort with the situation showed on her face—started tugging once more against the grip that Vandra kept
on her wrist.
“I heard you wanted one of the Four to be the last soul killed with your sword before you resurrect Todrick,” Vandra continued, lassoing Elowen closer. “What better member than Galwell’s little sister? She’s so surly, isn’t she? Perfect for the job.”
“Let me go,” Elowen hissed.
“Never,” Vandra replied.
Myke clapped in delight. “Fantastic!” he cheered. “No, poetic . She’s just the person indeed. It would be like murdering Galwell all over again. They even have the same hair. But I know
someone who would delight in killing her even more than I would, which is saying a lot.”
“Is that so?” Vandra asked carefully. Elowen sensed her confusion. She also shared it. Someone wanted to kill her even more than Myke Lycroft?
Myke leapt off the platform in rather impressive fashion, sailing to the ground and landing in a fighter stance. Then he dusted
off his tunic and turned to Todrick. “My brother from another mother,” he said, kissing Todrick on the forehead. “Welcome
to your party.”
Myke plunged the Sword of Souls into Todrick’s torso.
In the blink of an eye, souls began coursing through Todrick, reanimating his lifeless frame. His ghastly skin regained color,
starting at his ankles, visible in the gap between his shoes and his too-short pants. There was also a dark glow around him.
This was what happened when life was born from pain.
For a startling moment, everyone froze, transfixed by the ominous glow. It was oddly fascinating, how unnatural it was. When
realization dawned that Todrick returning to this realm meant only terrible things, chaos soon followed.
The army of Clares surged forth, brawling with members of the Fraternal Order. A captor wrenched Elowen away from Vandra. Everything happened within seconds, devastating their entire plan in the blink of an eye.
As the captor drew Elowen further from the crowd, surely escorting her to some locked chamber until Todrick was rested enough
to end her life, Elowen still radiated calmness. She’d spent years anticipating something as awful as this. Somehow, living
it did not scare her. She knew the depths of her own fears with breathtaking intimacy. She could catalog them by their scent,
their taste, their color. They were hers to hold forevermore. They would never be removed. Not entirely. But she’d worked
so hard to push past them and live . She would not let the Fraternal Order send her back to the depths of despair with one swift capture. Not easily, at least.
Not without a fight.
“Hello,” she said to the burly man who held her by the arms. “Wow. You’re so handsome. Can I ask you a question?” She played
docile, appearing friendly. Charmed, even. A move straight from Vandra’s playbook. If she never got to see Vandra again, Elowen
would always find ways to keep her close.
The man leaned in so he could hear Elowen better over the roar of the crowd. “What’s that?” he asked. “You’re much better-looking
in person, you know.”
As soon as he got near enough, Elowen took her chance. She cranked her neck back and headbutted the shit out of the man. Her vision doubled. It was a small price to pay for what her work did to her captor. He lumbered back like
a felled tree, rendered unconscious from the force of Elowen’s blow.
Head spinning, Elowen ran toward Todrick.
“No, my love!” Vandra called out, wrestling two Order members nearby. “It’s too dangerous!”
“Everything’s dangerous!” Elowen yelled back. “I can’t live in fear anymore!”
With one roundhouse kick, Vandra knocked over the Order members she’d been wrestling. For a moment, Elowen thought Vandra
planned to stop her.
But, no. Vandra would never.
She started clearing Elowen’s path instead, mowing over Order members who might interfere.
Elowen followed the path of fallen bodies until she reached Todrick, who looked to be about half alive. His legs and arms
were flush with color, but his chest and head were still bluish and cold. Elowen didn’t have much time.
She just hoped she had enough.
Elowen scanned the crowd, making sure there were no other imminent threats to her safety. She found no danger. She did, however,
find Beatrice.
The terror in Beatrice’s expression was clear. Elowen required no heart magic to decipher it. It did not concern or upset
her. Instead, it was a comfort, like a blanket that wrapped around her. No matter what had happened between them, they loved
each other. They were family, and they always would be.
I’m sorry , Elowen mouthed.
I’m sorry, too , Beatrice mouthed back.
With that, Elowen put her hands around the Sword of Souls.