Rolling a shoulder, he limped toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Wait.” I swiveled back to the velvet. As the soft material unfurled, it revealed a heavy bolt. My fingers spread across the fletching, hovering, not touching, and I could feel how wrong the weapon was. It looked innocent enough in a savage way. Crafted from wood, it crackled and hummed with dark magic that pulled at me. It wanted to unravel my heightened abilities, the blood gift from my mother running through my veins. Yet, something else stirred in my blood, rising to defy it. “I have an idea how to redirect Sirro.”
Stalking over to the weapons rack, I picked a crossbow, tipped it upside down, and placed a foot in the stirrup to cock the bow. At the loudclick, I quickly slotted the bolt into place. I didn’t want to touch that fucking thing for too long.
Hefting the crossbow, I braced and aimed at Jett.
Jett’s eyes went wide, his hands rising before him as he stumbled back. “No fucking way. That’s from the Gestelt Tree.”
I arched a brow. “You know this for sure?”
“It’s the only possible explanation.”
I agreed with my youngest brother—it was the only explanation.
My father frowned cautiously. “Gray?”
“I have faith in our mother’s blood gift. And hidden in our treasury is a rare witch-wrought elixir,” I reminded him. Besides, I’d thrown myself off a godsdamned cliff and miraculously survived. “It’s potent enough to hold the dark magic at bay until our unnatural healing takes hold.”
My father considered this for a moment, then nodded for me to continue.
I smiled coldly at Jett. “Point to where it’s going to hurt the most.”
“Fuck you, Gray!”
“Obviously not somewhere fatal,” my father muttered.
I aimed and fired.
The thud of the bolt ripping through flesh and Jett’s explosive curse crashed against the map-lined walls.
Taking the steps two at a time, I hurtled up the tower’s inner staircase. Wildfyre torches, braced to the curved wall to guide the way with their skittish blue flames, were unnecessary for my family with our heightened senses, yet we kept the tradition. At dusk, our staff set about the Keep, lighting the torches.
As I moved through the doorway, wild magic brushed against my skin, curious and unrestrained.
Knowing Nelle, she’d petulantly refuse to eat the meal I’d instructed Penn to deliver, so it was no surprise to find the tray untouched on the dining table I used more often as a desk.
I frowned, drawing to a halt, then slowly circling. The room was empty.
Shit, had Nelle escaped?
My heartbeat picked up in my confusion…and settled when I heard murmuring behind the bathroom door…then tapped a staccato beat when I realized it wasn’t Nelle’s voice, and that a string of polite curses contained distress.
I knocked rapidly, and Penn answered, urging me to enter. Anxiety crawled along my ribcage as I strode through a thick cloud of billowing steam. The bathroom was stickily hot, and the pebbled floor still streamed with water. And Nelle—
My heart shot into my throat.
Oh my gods…
Nelle!
She lay prone on the floor. She wasn’t moving.
Penn knelt beside Nelle, unmindful of the water soaking her uniform. She drew a towel over Nelle’s naked body.
I chewed through the space, my bones barking as I slammed to my knees on the stone floor. I looked for blood first, running my hands over her arms, her sides, then legs.
“Did she fall?” Slip and hit her head? Hurt herself on purpose?
