My horrified gaze snaps back to Mother. I’m wholly unsurprised that she used Little Bean as a distraction. What I can’t believe is that I didn’t see it coming. Her throwing aim has always been average—thank the Gods—but she sneers in satisfaction anyway, flashing Thanatos in her other hand.
“The next one’s for you,Talia mou.”
The mocking endearment is like one of her stinging slaps across my face. My wings snap out in response, and her eyes widen in surprise. I hide my own surprise behind a heated glare as I grab Griffin’s arm and try to pull him behind me. His face has washed of all color.
Locking his jaw, he growls, “Stay behind me.”
“Stay behindme,” I growl back.
He looks at me like I’m insane, like he would never use me as his shield. I step around him before he can react. Maybe I am insane. I have no combat magic, and my lightning is a sham. But double standards don’t work with me, especially from the man I love.
There’s a deafening crack of timber from above, and the hermit’s house falls in on itself with a ferocious upheaval of fire and smoke, likely burying the real witch inside—already good and dead, I’m sure. Mother doesn’t leave loose ends.
Sparks roar upward from the collapsed structure, turning the sky red, orange, and black.
“Apocalyptic,” I say. “A fitting backdrop for you, Mother.”
Her eyes narrow. “Certainly your end of days.”
“How do you figure?” I ask.
“I’m the one holding the sword.”
I smile, and it’s vicious. I’ve kept this secret from her for years.
I turn invisible, and Mother gapes in shock.Ha!
I dart forward. All it takes is one sharp punch right above her elbow, and she drops the sword with a gasp. I kick it back toward Griffin. Before scrambling away, I reach out and wrench Ianthe’s circlet from Mother’s head, taking some of her hair along with it.
Mother grabs her head, her face contorting in rage and confusion. “That’s mine!”
I backpedal and reappear out of hitting distance. “Then why did Ianthe have it?”
“She took it, the little wretch.”
“Why do you want it?”
Mother eyes the circlet, her mouth flattening into a line. “Where’s Ianthe?” she asks.
“Somewhere safe.”I hope. “Out of your reach.”Definitely.
“There’s nowhere out of my reach.”
Another smile shapes my mouth into something I’m glad I can’t see. But Iwouldlike to see Mother try to confront Lycheron. Maybe get a hoof in the face.
“I’m keeping this.” I back away another step, and Griffin comes up beside me with Thanatos in his hand. I try not to think about the knife in his gut.
“As you like.” Her tone goes back to cool and detached, but her eyes say otherwise.
I grip the pearls, dying to know what’s so special about them. But getting Griffin to running water so I can heal him is more important.
I look at Mother. Can we end this here? Now? No war. No army. No innocent deaths to regret. She must have used a lot of magical energy on steering the crows, the Harpy metamorphosis, and tossing everything around. And she just wasted more power on a failed attempt at compulsion. She might not have another truly dangerous trick up that black sleeve of hers—at least not until she can rest. That kind of magic doesn’t just take power; it takes a deep well of it, and hers might be mostly dried up.
And yet she’s standing here, unarmed. Is she really that confident? Or is she bluffing? Is this another one of her mind games, and just by asking myself all these damn questions, I’m already losing?
Her eyes dart to the circlet in my hand, and then it hits me. She doesn’t want to leave without it.
“This amplifies magic, doesn’t it?” I clutch the pearls harder in my fist. “It’s spelled to channel more power. That’s why you want it.”
