Aline.
If it wasn’t for her long hair whipping around her face, I’d have thought it was Maeve. Sheradiatedpower, magic pouring off her in waves and rolling down the hill. Behind her, figures remained in shadow, but I swear I heard a cat howl.
I craned my head toward her.Did she just say what I think she said…that Daigh isn’t a fae anymore?
“Don’t move, witch,” a voice hissed in my ears. I flattened the backs of my hands, palms facing up at my captor, and forced my magic through my body, building a great ball of fire. It wasn’t hard. I was angry enough to torch the world.
I fired the ball.
Instead of leaping through my skin, it slammed against my palm and bounced back, shooting fire through my body.
Shite, they’ve blocked our magic again.
I focused on what was going on around me – on Daigh, frozen in position in front of his army – and the villagers – their attention focused not on the fae but on a gaggle of people on top of the hill. The crowd surged forward. Behind Aline, I recognised Jane, Clara, Corbin’s parents, Gwen and Candice from Avebury, and from his picture in Maeve’s art book, Robert Smithers. Obelix was even sitting by his feet, gazing down the hill with a bored expression only a cat could master in the middle of a massacre.
What’s going on?My vision narrowed in on Aline.She betrayed us. So why is she here, looking like she’s facing off against Daigh? Did she mean what she said about Daigh?
Daigh’s face remained frozen in his ghoulish grin, but I’d been around Blake long enough now to know that the fae would laugh on the way to the guillotine. But Aline’s words shuddered through the army – bows rattled, feet shuffled, fae bent toward each other in whispered conversation. In front of the fire, his two fae generals stepped over Kelly’s prone body. They narrowed their eyes at Daigh. One raised his hand. “Does she speak the truth?” he demanded.
Daigh laughed, the sound ringing clear across the meadow. “You think I’ve lost my powers, Regin? That would be ludicrous,” he said. “I am here, am I not? Just as I am.”
“Robert can’t see my thoughts, Robert can’t do his tricks,” Smithers chanted.
“Shut up.” Daigh snapped.
“The best as I can guess, you gave your powers over to a demon so that you might have the means to speak with Maeve through the castle mirrors,” Aline said. “I gather you intend to return to the underworld with all the fae on your side and get your magic back somehow, perhaps in exchange for the spirits of these witches. Demons do so love the taste of a witch.”
Aline held up her hand. The corner of her mouth curled up into a smile that looked so much like Maeve’s it hurt. Daigh opened his mouth to answer her, but all that came out was two lines of some ghastly pop song. I recognised it as a song Aline had been playing on repeat ever since Flynn showed her how to use the system in the Great Hall.
Daigh snapped his mouth shut, his eyes blazing. He lurched forward, his hands raised as if he intended to choke the life out of Aline. Instead, his hand flew up and he slapped himself across the cheek.
What…the…fuck?
Another shudder rippled through the fae.
Behind Aline, Clara stifled a laugh behind her hand.
“You can’t do that,” Daigh gasped, staring at his hand in shock. “That’s fae magic.”
Bloody hell. Aline just used compulsion. That’s…not possible. Blake’s the only witch who can use compulsion, and not on a fae...
“Can’t I?” Aline lifted her hand higher, a serene smile playing across her lips. “It seems that when you made the binding between us, Maeve wasn’t the only one who got a piece of your magic. I’ve been carrying this spark of you with me for twenty-one years, Daigh. Now it will be the spark that is your undoing.”
“Binding?” The fae soldier named Regin growled. “You’re bound with those witches? You told us you mated with her, but not that there was a binding.”
“She’s lying, obviously. She wants to turn you against me!” Daigh yelled. He slapped his other cheek, then kicked his feet out in a merry jig. Clara couldn’t hold in her mirth any longer, and her peals of laughter carried over the meadow.
Regin’s fingers tightened around his bow. “If you are still a fae, then you must show us. Cast a glamour.”
“I do not dance like a trained monkey for my court,” Daigh retorted. Aline waved her hand, and Daigh hopped about, scratching his armpits and making monkey noises. He smashed his foot down on Kelly’s shoulder. She screamed and rolled over.
“Kelly, get away!” I yelled.
Sobbing, Kelly caterpillar-slid across the dirt toward me. I shoved my feet back and dragged my body forward half a foot. My captor grunted in protest as he was carried along with me. Rough hands grabbed me and tried to force me back down, but I shook them off, spurred on by Kelly’s desperate cries.
Regin raised his bow, holding the string beside his cheek. Daigh opened his mouth to say something, but his words turned into a moan as an arrow buried itself into his thigh.
Daigh’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. He gripped the shaft in his leg, his hands shaking as he tugged it. With every movement, his body sagged and he bellowed louder.
