“And you believe her? She has done nothing but twist the truth with me.”
“I know.” Anguish contorted Chandi’s lovely face. “But she is my best friend. My sister. My mother. My princess. She is the only person who’s ever truly loved me. She would not knowingly deceive me in this.”
Behind me, Irian rattled against his chains. “Colleen, there is nothing you can do. We mustgo!”
Chandi stepped closer to Eala. With a cry, I swung toward Irian, hiding my face so I didn’t have to see Rogan’s empty, obedient body… Chandi’s heart being torn from her chest… my shining doppelgänger steal magic and plot mayhem.
Relief tangled with resolve in Irian’s moonlit eyes.
“The last Treasure of the Septs must not be destroyed. I must not die before I tithe the Sky-Sword.” His wrists were raw where he’d struggled against his manacles. “You have to get us to the Heartwood, colleen. I’m too weak to fly us there—you must think of a way to get us past the host.”
Behind me, a scream splintered the air, echoing toward the night sky. I closed my eyes as an unbearable wave of sorrow crashed over me. I didn’t know what power Chandi’s willing heart had bought Eala. I didn’t want to know. My blood slowed to sludge. Every muscle in my body grew weak.
Rogan was enchanted, compliant. Chandi was dead. In a few moments, Irian would tithe his own life away. And then I would be alone. Everything I’d ever loved would begone.
A cool, soft palm slid around my elbow. My eyes snapped open, and I stared down at five slender brown fingers ringing my arm.
Chandi stood tall and wistful and determined, her amber eyes golden as the lanterns swinging at her back. Her dress was ripped over her chest, and a thick line of red dribbled from her collarbone to her breastbone. But she wasalive. Gloriously, perfectly, amazingly alive.
I flung myself up and crushed her in an embrace. She hugged me, then pushed me gently away.
“Go.” She flashed me a melancholy smile. In her hands, she gripped the bloodied dagger Eala had tried to take her heart with. “You don’t have much time.”
Behind her, Eala was murmuring furiously in Rogan’s ear. He stirred, muscles flexing as he turned his head toward us.
“You do not have to stand against me, Sister.” Eala’s voice was even despite the chaos surging in her eyes. “You know I wanted you with me, from the very beginning. Surely we can find a way to work toward a common goal.”
“You and I havenothingin common.”
“You’re wrong.” She moved toward us, Rogan trailing blankly behind her. “We have everything in common. We are both our mother’s creations. Herweapons. Let us use that.”
“By manipulating those who love us? Coercing their wills? Ripping out their hearts?”
“I once told you, Sister—I am the stronger weapon. If you are determined to make yourself my enemy, then I fear you will find out how sharp my edge is.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I ground out. “Mother always told me love made me weak. But I believe it makes me strong. Perhaps I am not the sharper blade or the faster arrow. Perhaps I am not a weapon at all. But I am stronger than you know.”
Eala glared at me. “Then I suppose we two are at war after all.”
She gestured toward Rogan, who lifted his head and moved toward us.
“Go!” Chandi said again, more forcefully. She hefted the dagger and turned away from Irian and me. “I’ll hold them off as long as I’m able.”
“Thank you.” I hoped she knew my thanks were for more than just this.
She wouldn’t be able to withstand Rogan for long. It was meant to be only a distraction. So I had to help her with a distraction of my own—and pray she didn’t get hurt.
I closed my eyes, bleeding my consciousness into the earth below my feet, the trees ringing the grove, the grass tickling my calves. In an instant, I found them—my army of exhumed monsters, waiting like sentinels beyond the fringe of the forest.
Come.
They obeyed with elation, stomping out into the moonlight and slithering behind the press of angry Folk. They joined the fray, striding strange and huge and stony amid the agitation. The Fomorians gazed down at tiny figures knocking against their boots before beginning to stomp. A bean sidhe keened at the night as she raised shroud-draped arms in promises of death. A dearg due teased bladed claws behind bare knees and across tender throats.
I clasped Irian’s hands in my own. I willed tough, spiny brambles to snake down my wrists and tangle around his arms. They burst against his manacles and slid beneath his chains. His hands ripped free. His searing touch circled my waist. His cool breath brushed my cheek.
“The Heartwood. Go!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
