She nods.
“How?” I ask, my heart aching.
“Father,” she admits. “Well, he didn’t exactly tell me. He was shouting about it downstairs, and I overheard. He left with the elders into the forest about an hour ago. They know you’re missing, Cali.” She pauses, a frown wrinkling her delicate features. Her lips part, and a brief gasp of air swirls between them. “Did you really destroy Azkiel’s statue?” she asks, her voice soft, but broken.
“I had no choice,” I say. “Drake would have been chosen otherwise, but I used my magic last night to kill a Phovus.”
Her expression softens. We both know our parents will never forgive me if they find out we destroyed the ritual, but if they discover I possess decay magic, they’ll be forced to hand me over to die. It’s bad enough they think I have no magic, but it’s better than having a daughter who holds an ancient power only possessed by Azkiel.
“If anyone finds out you were behind it or killing the Phovi…”
“I know.”
“I’ll cover for you with Mother and bring you some fresh clothes tonight.”
“Don’t bother,” I say and chew the inside of my lip. “She’ll know you snuck out again, and you’ll be in more trouble. Besides, they know I’m behind it.” I pause briefly. “Save the lecture for later,” I tease, trying to ease the tension, but Arabella’s stoic look doesn’t change. “You do understand why we had to do this?”
Her usually soft gaze hardens, and she averts her eyes to the ground. “I believe you think you had to, but they’ll kill Drake for this. He may not have even been picked at The Choosing.”
“Ari,” I say softly, “Don’t you ever question it?”
“What?”
“The Harvest.”
Silence hangs between us, but I quickly shatter it, even if it’s something she doesn’t want to hear. “Our names are in there, too, yet Mother said we wouldn’t be selected. If the gods are supposed to choose the sacrifices, then surely the elders would have no say in it?” I question, although I’m wrong. They say the gods choose, but it’s only ever one god. It’s Azkiel’s statue that the names show up on. When I think about it, only his name is ever used in relation to the tournament.
She inhales sharply, then rubs her eyes, forcing back a yawn. “Maybe they just favor us because Father is an elder. It’s not a terrible thing to be protected like this.”
“And Drake?”
She swallows thickly. “I know. I agree, but this will have far worse consequences. I’m scared for you,” she admits. Ari walks to the door, then looks back over her shoulder. “If the elders find out you are behind this, we will all be ruined. Father may not be able to protect you this time. Even if they can, Drake won’t be spared. Everist is a Sight Seeker, Cali. He’ll be investigating this, and no one can hide the truth from him.”
With that, she leaves, closing the door behind her. I just hope she isn’t right.
“How are you?” I ask Drake as he enters the bedroom.
The last rays of the sunset stream through the moth-bitten drapes, but I’ve barely slept—only minutes between each panicked awakening. The silence hangs heavy in the room when he doesn’t answer right away. “Drake?”
He clears his throat and responds, “I went home. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
I notice his fresh clothes—a clean gray tunic and loose brown pants. He walks toward me, scuffing the heels of his saggy leather boots. His tattoos seem to come alive as he flexes his fingers, and I’m relieved to see they’re back and his magic has strengthened after almost being depleted.
“What happened?”
“The elders know it was someone from my coven,” he says, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he approaches my bed. “They saw the ash, too. They know someone else killed the two Phovi.”
Adrenaline rushes through my body and bile rises in my throat. “Did anyone see you?”
He shakes his head. “They were at my house. My mother told them I was hunting for our dinner.”
My stomach knots. “Which of the elders was at your house?”
He mumbles from under his palms, “Everist, your father, and Dephina.”
I climb out of bed. “Fuck.”
We both fall silent. If Arabella is right and Everist, the infamous Sight Seeker, is with the elders, they’ll quickly discover Drake’s presence in the church. Unlike me, he has no one to protect him. They won’t hesitate to hang him as an example. I push those thoughts aside. “There are more people here now than ever before. Anyone could have destroyed the statue.”
His biceps strain against the thin fabric of his tunic as he tightly clasps his knees. “The Harvest is in five days. They know it was one of the potential sacrifices. Who else, aside from us, would try to sabotage the ritual?” He releases a quivering exhale. “There are only six of age in my coven, and someone saw the light from my illusion when they passed the church. It won’t take long for them to know it was me. I’m as good as dead if I don’t escape.”
Absent-mindedly raking his fingers through his black hair, he adds, “They said The Offering is still going ahead.”
I shake my head. “How can they still go ahead? The statue is destroyed.”
His expression softens, revealing a gentler side to his rugged features. “I don’t know, but it’s happening.”
The possibility of the words we once joked about draws closer and closer. I grip my legs under the skirt of my dress, feeling the sharp sting as my nails dig into my skin, trying to ground myself as I contemplate leaving my sisters behind.
“I’ll go alone,” he says, as if I’d ever allow that. “I can go to one of the human kingdoms.”
I scoff. “Where they will kill you the moment they realize you have magic?”
My eyes fixate on the swirling symbols on his arms, each one depicting a different scene of him sailing away.
If he leaves Dahryst—the only sanctuary for witches and warlocks—he will be forced to seek refuge with the non-magical humans who despise our kind. They’ll make a show of torturing him.
