Instead, the window appeared to have been invaded by a circle made of pulsing golden light.
As I watched, the circle rotated, then expanded, the light in the middle swirling and expanding outward until the center of the circle opened up like a giant golden donut.
And then it began topull.
I felt it in my hair first. It tugged at the headpiece, which threatened to take half my hair with it. The pull was strong enough that it also lifted the drops of Nectar straight off my skin. They hovered briefly in the air before whizzing toward the golden light and disappearing.
“She’s done it!” That shout came from Radven, who was hacking away with his sword at a group of Tendrils just behind me. “Quick! Let’s go!”
After giving one last slash and lopping off half a Tendril, he bolted toward the golden light. When he reached it, he leaped through the air—
And was gone.
The lights flickered again, then went out completely. But the glow from the circle was so bright that the whole room was still lit up.
The headpiece finally tugged free of my hair, flying across the room and disappearing behind him. I could feel the tug on the amulet, too, but Alastor’s hand was still locked around mine, holding it closed.
Around us, other things were flying toward the light—the cask of Nectar, coins, even the huge table from the center of the room. Oddly, most of the books stayed on their shelves, though a couple of the older-looking volumes whizzed by and vanished into the glowing circle. I had to twist out of the way in order to avoid being clunked on the head.
Octavian was still slashing at the Tendrils, and his sleeves and pants were torn in half a dozen places and his skin inflamed with welts where he hadn’t been fast enough to avoid them. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Alastor and me.
“Go!” he said to his brother. “I’ll hold them off until you and the others are through.”
“No.” Alastor’s voice was authoritative, even now. “Go now. I’ll come through last.”
“But—”
“That is a command.”
Octavian didn’t argue. But the next look he cast our way was as dark as I’d ever seen on him. He gave a single reserved nod to Alastor, then turned to slice the end off of a Tendril—which released a final, shrill shriek and dissolved—before turning his attention to me.
“Marigold,” he rumbled in that deep, beautiful tone of his. “Thank you. For everything.”
And then he ran toward the light.
That left only Alastor and me, and the Tendrils were closing in. He still had his hand around mine, holding my fist closed, but he’d also pulled out his sword and was trying to keep the shadowy tentacles from getting any closer to us. It was a losing battle, though, and more Tendrils seemed to appear every passing second, closing in on all sides.
Pain seared across my back, my skin burning. Alastor twisted and cut through the Tendril behind me before it could strike me again, and then he tugged me closer to him.
Footsteps pounded down the steps, and three terrified faces appeared in the doorway. I could only guess that these were the servants the brothers had mentioned, the ones that had been cursed along with them. They were all three armed with makeshift weapons—everything from a butcher knife to an umbrella—but they hesitated when they saw the sea of Tendrils in front of them.
“Your Highness!” called the young man holding the umbrella. “What’s happening?”
Wait—did he just refer to Alastor as‘Your Highness’?!
Alastor arced his sword through the air, his other hand digging into mine with the effort to keep holding on. “The curse is breaking. Go through the light.”
The three servants tentatively moved into the room together, and immediately one of the tentacles whipped toward them, whipping the young man’s arm. He yelped, swinging his umbrella wildly.
“The curse is trying to stop us,” Alastor said. He twisted around again, pulling me toward the servants. “I’ll help cut you a path.”
Up until that point, I’d assumed Octavian and Radven were the fighters in the group. But it was clear that Alastor had some skills of his own. Radven had been quick as a snake and Octavian was pure strength, but Alastor was all technique. Not that I knew much about fighting technique, honestly—but I’d done some research for myThrones and Kingsfanfic, and Alastor slashed with the sort of perfect, expert movements that suggested he’d practiced these motions hundreds of times before.
He carved his way through the Tendrils, pulling me along with him. The brothers had claimed that the shadowy tentacles weren’t sapient, but even they seemed to fear him, cringing away from his blade and shriveling back into the ground whenever he got too close.
“Come on!” he commanded the huddled servants when we’d nearly reached them. “Quick!”
They ran across the room, swinging their makeshift weapons around them, before finally leaping into the light like the others.
