Raven’s eyes searched the room, ice forming in her stomach when she couldn’t find the other witch. A dark cloud manifested behind the scribe. The elf screamed. Crimson pressed a curved blade to Leena’s throat and leveled her gaze on Raven. “Hand over the kid or your friend dies, little witch.”
Crimson’s knife pressed into Leena’s neck, drawing a bead of blood that trickled along the edge. The hate Raven felt for the former mambo was all-consuming. She clutched Charlie to her, knowing that as long as Crimson lived, Charlie was technically hers. She’d agreed to it. She’d shaken the witch’s hand and sealed the contract before she ever knew she could conceive, when she’d thought that after years of chemotherapy, she was barren.
That was before she respected the boundaries of magic.
Leena blinked wide, fearful eyes at her. She was a scribe. She was supposed to record what happened in this world, not participate in it, and here she was with a knife pressed to her throat. Raven clenched her teeth. She’d have to kill Crimson. Nothing less would break the contract. Raven wasn’t a murderer, but she already knew she could do it. Shewoulddo it.
“Give me the babe or she dies,” Crimson said again. She pointed her chin toward the pile of shelving, books, and magical accoutrements that buried Eleanor. “She might not be able to use her anymore, but I certainly can.”
“She has a name, Crimson. It’s Charlie. She’s a person!” Raven wasn’t trying to convince the evil woman, just buy time while she considered what to do. She had an almost limitless arsenal of spells at her disposal, but Eleanor was right before—she couldn’t wield any spell properly when her heart was galloping and her every instinct kept her clinging to her daughter.
Crimson scoffed. “I don’t care what she is, sweetheart. I only care that she has a heart in her chest that can make me immortal.”
Raven kissed her daughter’s cheek. She couldn’t hand her over. Wouldn’t.
“No,” Leena whispered. “Don’t you even think about it, Raven.”
“Shut up, bitch.” Crimson dug the blade deeper into her skin. Raven watched more blood bubble where the blade bit in.
Something warm and wet dripped on Raven’s fingers. She pulled her hand away from Charlie and stared at the bright red staining them in confusion. How was Leena’s blood on her fingers? No, this was Charlie’s blood. She saw it now, red oozing from her back to stain her beautiful white feathers. Charlie whimpered in her arms.
“Now, Raven!” Crimson said.
“She’s hurt. I have to heal her, or she’ll be no good to you.” It was a lie. Likely Charlie’s injury wouldn’t have an effect on Crimson’s spell at all, but it was a perfect excuse to delay handing her over. “It’s going to be okay,” Raven whispered, as much to herself as to the baby. With a soft incantation under her breath, her hands began to glow, and she pressed them to Charlie’s wounds. “Mommy’s going to make it better.”
“You’re testing my patience, Raven. I don’t care about the blood,” Crimson said through her teeth.
The wounds stitched themselves together, her daughter’s whimpers becoming less intense and then subsiding. By the time the wound was a pale pink, Charlie cuddled into the side of Raven’s neck, wiping her wet cheeks on her shirt.
Leena’s mouth gaped like a fish. “Raven, the blood—”
Whatever she was trying to say was cut off by Crimson’s digging blade. The scribe tucked in her chin, more blood carving a trail from her neck, flowing faster between her breasts, staining her robes. Raven couldn’t allow Leena to die for her mistake. She’d get Charlie back. Somehow…
“Enough! Do it now!” Crimson reached for her.
Throat thick, Raven shifted Charlie in her arms and then handed her over.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Colin stabbed a sword through the heart of the dragon in front of him, then landed a foot in his gut and kicked him off his blade. The soldier crumpled at his feet. He moved on to the next, punching and slashing, careful not to decapitate them if he could avoid it. These guards were practically children. Eleanor and Ransom had recruited younger and younger dragons into the Obsidian Guard to replace older men who were too wise to continue serving. He doubted most even understood what they were fighting for. He would do everything in his power to avoid killing them.
Beside him, Xavier and Gabriel plowed through the soldiers like machines. The three had slipped through the wards at the gate using a seal of the palace—a magical talisman that Sylas had stolen off one of the guardsman’s horses when he and Dianthe had rescued Aborella. It only worked on the gate, a small area near the guardhouse where riders needed it to file in and out of the palace. The seal allowed only one rebel warrior through at a time, but it was a foothold. That was all they needed.
Above him, Nathaniel was using that magic smoke of his to unlock the heavier wards that rose like a dome over the palace. Dozens of witches hovered in the sky behind his brother, waiting in formation for the wards to drop. Wands glowing like stars in the full light of day, their black robes flowed over the backs of their brooms and their lips mumbled spells Colin could not hear. It was an intimidating sight, and he was instantly glad Darnuith was on their side.
If Nathaniel succeeded in opening a small passageway, not only could the witches mount an aerial attack, they could use their magic to unravel the rest of the wards like a knitted sweater with a loose string. Already their dark power pounded warning blows, loud enough he was sure Eleanor could hear them inside.
If the witch army successfully breached the wards, he’d readied the elves to complete the second wave. The tears of the goddess were fused to their arrows in stone capsules, enough to strike fear in any dragon. In fact, Hobble Glen had fallen as soon as the first arrow burned through a dragon in the street. They’d all surrendered, even the Highborns, or locked themselves away in their houses.
And that was before the animus arrived. Rogos had constructed ten giants out of metal and animated them with elven magic. One faceless mass of gears and metal had followed him through the gate and was beating back the Obsidian guards with a massive club.
The uprising was happening all over Ouros. Sylas and Dianthe were leading a battalion of fairies against Paragon sympathizers in Everfield. Sabrina and Tobias were waiting for the suns to set in Nochtbend to lead the vampires into the fray.
“Colin! To yer left!” Xavier cried.
He blocked a strike with his sword, then collided with a dragon half his age and snapped his neck in two breaths. The boy’s body dropped like a stone.Fuck.Did that soldier even try?
“They’re through,” Gabriel called as witches swarmed over them like dark locusts. “I’m going after Raven.”
