“She is fae!” another wails.
My heart’s clawing at my ribs. The soldier in me is braced for a fight—but I can’t tell where to point the blade. Sabine sits on Myst like a storm barely tethered, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to help her or stop her…or if I even can.
“She’s not fae,” the Matron sneers. “The fae still slumber underground in their dirt tombs. This is some trick. She’s charmed some godkissed mage—this brute here, no doubt.” She jerks a finger at me. “It’s a trick.”
I step forward, placing myself between Sabine and the Matron, heart pounding as I scramble to diffuse the tension. But before I can speak, Sabine dismounts from Myst.
“You pray to the fae,” Sabine says, the ground rumbling underfoot in a way that makes me shut my mouth. “And yet you do not recognize one standing before you.”
I groan inwardly.So much for keeping her fae nature a secret.
“You?” the Matron sneers, and I have to admit, the woman might be dumb but has balls of steel. “You’re just a traitor, flesh and blood, no more fae than that goat.”
Sabine stretches out a long finger. “Thatgoat?”
Oh, fuck.
Sabine presses her hands together, and the goat lowers his head like a puppet, then charges the Matron. He’s no ram, but his horns are powerful enough to slam into the old woman’s frail hips and knock her to the ground.
She cries out weakly, waving a gnarled hand in the air. “Sister Rose—help me up! Fetch my prayer stick. This wicked girl isn’t so big now that I can’t still beat her into submission!”
The other Sister doesn’t move a muscle, but the Matron manages to push to her feet regardless. She shuffles over to snatch up a wooden staff and raises it high toward Sabine—but then smiles darkly.
She turns instead and slams it over the goat, who lets out a pained cry.
Oh, lady.That was a mistake.
I whirl on Sabine, gripping her shoulders, using my body to block her direct sight of the Matron. “Hey. Wildcat. Stay with me.”
Sabine’s lips peel back in a hiss like a beast, her head twisting to try to see around me.
“Eyes on me,” I urge. “Remember?”
“Basten,” she growls. “Let me go.”
“Let me deal with them. I’ll fucking make them rue the day they ever raised a hand to you. You don’t want to do this, Sabine. Your powers…you could destroy half of Astagnon.”
“No.” Her voice is dangerously deep. “Only the part within these walls.”
She sweeps her hands out, and hot bursts of fey blister from her palms. The bolts shoot out to the rooftops, where the dry, aged thatch catches fire immediately. This fire isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. It burns a cobalt blue. Blue-tinted pillars of smoke, reeking of sulfur, rise into the night.
I stumble back, heart thrashing.
This…this isn’t natural. At least it’s no fucking part of nature I’ve seen.
In seconds, the bunk houses, the storerooms, and the goat barn go up in flames.
As the Sisters scream, Sabine continues to steadily pluck her fingers in the air. The barn door swings open on its own, and the goat herd suddenly bursts out, running straight for the convent gate as if herded there. Two tired old horses break free from the barn, stampeding out of the convent’s walls. Rabbits scamper out, too, along with a whole family of mice. Insects wriggle up from below ground and fly or crawl through the gate.
So much for rotten apples, I think. She’s about to withereverythingwithin sight.
Sabine slams her hands closed, and a gust of wind closes the gate again behind the animals. She crooks her finger, and the deadbolt lock falls closed.
“Don’t do this.” I grab her arm, forcing her to face me, gripping her chin in my hands. My mind is racing. I haven’t seen her like this since the Gloaming. “Me. Focus on me. Like we do when I’m fucking you.”
“Let go, Basten!” She makes a fist in the air, and a vine bursts out of the ground to wrap around my boot.
I don’t know what to do.
