As I chase Amity across the field toward Marcus, I wonder if Evander and I were mistaken about whether having a child was worth it.
My heart pounds, fear racing through me as I try to catch up to the foolish, brave little girl. We were supposed to stay behind—me monitoring her and staying out of harm’s way. Amity had been reluctant to agree, but she was a child and at the end of the day, Marcus’s word was law.
But that was when we thought Blaise had taken Asha out of hunger.
Before we realized Blaise had simply pulled the wool over our eyes. Again.
We’d watched from behind the tree line, Az’s and Blaise’s voices carrying across the open field in the wind as we slowly realized what exactly was happening.
We’d observed in horror as Az stood in front of the circlet of runes that glowed peculiarly in the air, as if the rest of the field were just a backdrop painted to look like a landscape.
And then Blaise threatened the Old Magic, sinking her teeth into Asha’s neck.
I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Marcus was even faster, slipping his hand over Amity’s eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch.
We couldn’t speak, not without risking Blaise hearing us, so Marcus had taken my hand and fixed it over Amity’s eyes to replace his.
Then the shadows of his paldihv had wrapped themselves around him, and he stepped into the open field, obscured by his magical garb.
I’d just stood there, clutching Amity’s shaking body to my chest, Evander’s grip firm on my shoulder, as if he were holding onto me for support lest the betrayal of his friend be too much.
At one point, I had to slip my hand over Amity’s tear-soaked mouth to muffle her sobs as her fear for Marcus’s life overwhelmed her.
And then there was a scream, and though it came from Asha’s mouth, it didn’t belong to her. It bellowed out.
And then something had Ripped.
Evander had bobbed next to me, and I could feel his muscles tensing, itching to go after Asha with Marcus, but there was no way he wouldn’t be spotted in the open field.
The Rip itself was so loud, the beings that emerged from it so stunning, so earth-shattering, I almost didn’t notice Nox’s body move.
Evander had tapped on my shoulder and pointed him out to me, the way he pushed himself up from the ground, looking dazed, until he turned toward where Blaise was still feeding on Asha, and went completely stiff.
For a moment, I remembered Nox was a vampire too, and I worried he might attack her. But then he approached them, stroking Blaise’s shoulders until she pulled away from Asha, allowing her friend’s body to slump to the ground.
The three of us had watched as the faint outline of Marcus’s paldihv reached Asha, as he wrapped his arms around her and began to drag her backward.
I’d realized too late that Amity had wriggled out from under my grip.
I’d realized too late that she was watching as the Other pounced, knocking her father to the ground.
Evander had been the first to move, rushing into the field with nothing to shield him from detection as he ran after Marcus and Asha.
Amity had been the second.
She’d sprinted off into the field, not in the direction most children would have, away from the danger.
But toward it, screaming Marcus’s name.
Stupid, foolish girl.
I suppose I’m just as stupid for following her.
CHAPTER 47
EVANDER
I’m regretting never having tried to master my magic at the Academy.
My sister, Olwen, would just love to hear me admit that.
Though she would probably laugh over my dead body, telling me it’s my own fault for not taking the responsibility of my magic more seriously. Still, I can’t exactly be glad she isn’t here, given if she were, I probably wouldn’t be in my current situation.
Which is surrounded by a pack of mere, venom dripping from their ugly yellow fangs as their coats reflect the moonlight.
They’re beautiful creatures, really. Stunning. The type I might be tempted to sit in awe of, if I wasn’t pretty sure they’re about to eat me.
The first launches, and though I parry with my sword, the only weapon I’ve ever felt remotely comfortable with, I’m not prepared for the weight of the mere’s attack.
My sword protects me from the blow, but then the mere swipes its paw, knocking my blade from my grasp and sending it flying into the shadows.
I gesture toward the ground, and beneath the torso of the nearest creature shoots a vine riddled with thorns. It wraps itself around the beast’s torso. As I fist my hand, it squeezes, sinking its thorns into the creature’s skin.
The cry that bellows from the mere’s mouth as the thorns slowly dig into its flesh might provoke pity in me, were I the one to attack first.
The mere currently being strangled by my singular vine writhes, flailing its paws to escape from the thorns, but the harder it resists the more I squeeze.
I’m almost impressed with my magic, which, to be honest, I haven’t bothered touching in decades.
