“Hold on to it,” Felspar barked, his tone sharp. “If you falter now, the spell will collapse!”
Thraya’s hands trembled as she gripped the pixie’s convulsing body, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resolve. Hishta’s grip was firmer, but her gaze flickered with unease as the dark energy flowed into her.
Celise didn’t look away. She watched as the light faded from the pixies’s gaze, as the last shuddering breath escaped its lips in a wet, choking gasp. The darkness inside Celise stirred—a deep, insidious thing that coiled tighter around her soul with every drop of blood that spilled.
Celise rose to her feet, wiping the blood from her dagger onto the hem of her cloak. The darkness inside Celise churned, growing stronger, hungrier. “How do you feel, Thraya?”
The healer sprite held up her hands and they pulsed with white light. “It worked.” Her voice was full of awe and relief. She glanced down briefly at the pixie but quickly looked back up, her eyes meeting Celise’s. “Thank you.”
Celise smiled. “I told you I would get it back for you.” She turned to the next circle, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on the warlock.
“One down,” she said, her voice cold and sharp. “Three to go.”
Chapter 6
“Life can seriously suck. Here we are, just running from some cranky draheim, minding our own business and then, BAM. The past rears its ugly head and smacks you across the face. And then laughs for good measure.” ~ Myanin
Myanin sat just inside the mouth of the cave, her dark eyes staring into the flickering flames of the fire. The dancing light painted the stone walls with shadows, making the space feel both intimate and suffocating. She hated closed-in spaces. Ever since her punishment before she was banished, anything that made her feel trapped was a trigger for her. But she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. The last thing she needed was people thinking they’d found a crack in Myanin's armor. She swallowed hard as the events of the day and all that had happened seem to catch up with her. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on all the questions that had immediately assaulted her mind when they’d appeared in the draheim realm, specifically: where was Gerick and was he okay? He was a damn good warrior. She had to trust that wherever he was, he was completely capable of taking care of himself, and he’d be totally insulted if she thought otherwise for even a second. So she set her worry for him aside and thought of someone else.
When they’d heard Peri’s voice and then Torion’s, Myanin had been both relieved and slightly devastated. Tenia wasn’t with her son. She didn’t know where the fae female, who’d become like a sister to her, was, and despite Torion’s drawing Peri had shown her, she didn’tknowif Tenia was actually okay. Myanin felt helpless, and she loathed feeling helpless. She took in a deep breath and then blew it out as she attempted to shake the uneasy feeling that seemed to want to cling to her like tar.
Her fingers toyed with the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh, the repetitive motion grounding her as her mind wandered. This unease had been gnawing at her since the moment Celise had flashed them into this hellhole. It wasn’t just the draheim—though they were bad enough, other than Serapha who seemed to not want to eat them. It was something more. Something Myanin couldn’t see, couldn’t name, but could feel like a shadow just out of reach. It was as though she’d been running from something far more dangerous than the draheim, and the thought made her stomach twist.
Her gaze flicked to the others in the cave. Dillon was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t asleep. No alpha would be asleep while vulnerable children, especially his grandson, were in a dangerous situation. Gavril was off to the side, helping Torion settle the kids for the night. The boy looked exhausted, his usual energy dimmed by the weight of everything they’d been through. Peri was speaking quietly to Lucian, both of their eyes roaming over the cave as if taking count of everyone present.
And then there was Myanin, sitting alone with her thoughts—thoughts that were starting to feel like an enemy of their own.
“You’re brooding.” Jezebel’s voice broke through the silence, soft but pointed.
Myanin didn’t look up. “I don’t brood.”
Jezebel snorted, moving to sit across the fire from her. “You’re practically radiating brood energy right now. It’s suffocating.”
“Then maybe you should give me some space,” Myanin shot back. Jezebel wasn’t her enemy. Not anymore. But that didn’t mean Myanin wanted to be besties. In fact, she’d rather give up cotton candy than be trapped in a realm, with no real foreseeable exit plan, with her former crush’s mate. She paused and considered that.Okay, maybe not cotton candy,she mentally countered. But something else she really liked.
She felt Jezebel studying her, and Myanin looked at the other female. The white witch’s sharp, blue eyes were unreadable. “Not that I’m trying to bond with you or anything. But, as I told Peri a few minutes ago when she attempted to rile me up over the fact that you and I are in a forced proximity together, life’s too short to worry about old crap. So sharing is caring and all that. You’ve been tense ever since we got here. What’s going on?”
Myanin’s jaw tightened as she debated whether or not to answer. She hated showing vulnerability, especially to someone like Jezebel. Regardless of what the white witch said, their past would never be erased or forgotten. It was too much, too painful, even if Myanin’s feelings had changed for the djinn male that had chosen Jezebel over her. The residual pain would always be there. A broken heart might mend, but it would forever be scarred by the trauma from those feelings. But the witch wasn’t going to let it go, and Myanin knew it.
“I feel like we’re being followed,” she admitted finally, her voice low. She twirled the blade in her hand, the motion almost absentminded. “Not just by the draheim. Something else. Something … familiar. Something or someone powerful.”
Jezebel frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Familiar how?”
“I don’t know.” Myanin was frustrated. “It’s just a feeling. Like a shadow on the edge of my mind. I can’t shake it.”
Jezebel was quiet for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “You think it’s someone you know?”
Myanin’s grip tightened on the hilt of her blade, the action almost painful. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth. “I don’t know.”
But she did know. Deep down, she knew exactly who it was—or at least shesuspected. And that thought was more terrifying than any draheim chasing her through the forest. She hadn’t seen him in centuries, not since before—well everything. Before Thad, before Jezebel, before her exile from the djinn realm, but the memory of him was as sharp as ever. The way his dark eyes had burned with intensity, the way his power had crackled in the air around him, the way he’d made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. And the way he’d left her.
Jezebel’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “You’re scared.”
Myanin’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not scared.” Tenia would have called her out on her B.S. She wouldn’t have let that lie stand for a second.
“You’re scared,” Jezebel repeated, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Which is weird, because I didn’t think anything scared you.”
“Nothing does scare me.” Even as the words left Myanin’s mouth she knew she was lying to herself. “That’s not true. Maybe it was, once upon a time. But that was when I had nothing to lose. Now…” She stared at the dancing flames. She pulled the blade from its sheath and began spinning it mindlessly in her hand.
