She’s leaving me behind to take the fall?
“I’ll be tried against my life,” I wheeze, then I turn to the Astrals. “Stop her. She’s made her wish. Surely, you’re no longer bound to the tournament?”
“We are bound until Aurora Isle returns to the ocean’sdepths,” the Astral in blue says sombrely, her voice like running water. “We may only act if tournament laws are broken. Has she violated any rules? Interfered in any way?”
“Maeve and Wren,” I whisper. Then louder. “We’re not the real Maeve and Wren from Moondance Haven. Madame Vera had us steal their identities.”
The Astrals share a renewed look of shock. Still, they don’t move from their position under the tree.
Madame Vera scoffs, idly twisting the Necroseal around her pinkie. “You poor, naïve thing. You think I’d be that careless? Rules are like fences. Walk beside them, run circles around them, and you’re fine. Only when you cross them are they considered broken. I never laid a finger on the real Maeve and Wren. You and darling Taron did. You alone incapacitated them. You stole their invitation, took forged sigils to carry out your lie. You stepped into their names. I merely informed you of where their watercraft would be passing. Ergo, I never broke any rules.”
I turn to the monocled man, my eyes pleading for his assistance. It’s the Astral in green who finally speaks. “She is correct, I’m afraid. The deception was yours alone. The breach lies with you, not her.”
My blood ices over.
Taron was right. Madame Vera takes care of everything.
“This can’t be right,” I say. I realize I’m shaking. “Taron?”
He only stares at me, face hard as stone. Madame Veraclicks her fingers at him, and he doesn’t move. I want him to resist. To fight against her grasp, but then he turns.
His limbs jerk unnaturally as he sets after her, as if every step and gesture is a painful struggle against the invisible chains that bind him to her will.
“We’re not done here,” I snarl, and my voice sounds distant, deeper, not quite like my own. And then suddenly it’s all too much. The pain, the grief, the fear.
Every negative feeling from the last few days comes rushing over me like a cloak of raging, blackened fire.
I close my eyes and throw back my head, and the energy forming an armour around me crackles and swirls. It responds to my will, sparking and building. It ignites a familiar rage. Spawned from a dragon, burrowed in the depths of a monster.
I cling to it, and I call upon it, over and over again until I hear the sound of crumbling stone and a ear-splitting roar from behind me.
Forcing its way through the narrow passage of the temple’s entrance is the Nightshade.
Chapter Thirty-four
Rising to its full height, the Nightshade gives a thunderous roar, its serpentine tendrils brandished like deadly weapons. In four of its shadowy appendages, I’m surprised to find it’s still holding Cyrus, Gideon, Kara and Savannah. They’ve been reduced to pale, emaciated figures hanging limply in its grasp, but they’re still alive. Barely.
The beast drops them on to the floor, and they try to scramble away, but their limbs are weak, affording only a slow crawl.
It doesn’t matter. The Nightshade isn’t focused on them any more. Its eyes, two glowing embers within a murky storm, are fixed on Madame Vera.
She staggers back, raising her head in bewilderment. I revel in the sight. I want her to fear for her life the way Elara did.
The sharp cold bite of vengeful energy pulls at the airaround me, like a bowstring being pulled too tight. It’s a sensation that grows, spreading like a creeping frost, relentless and inevitable. I taste it on my tongue – metallic and frozen-over, almost numbing, with a hint of something bitter and charred that lingers in the back of my throat.
Somewhere at the edge of my consciousness, I’m aware of the Astrals helping the competitors to their feet.
In the corner of my eye, I can see Cyrus looking back at me. He’s barely able to stand, and his eyes, usually sharp with arrogance, are wide with shock, flickering with something akin to pity. Then he’s gone. The monocled man sweeps him through one of the moonlit arches along with the rest of the injured competitors.
“There’s another exit,” I hear the Astral in green murmur. “A path leading down to the beach…”
“The Principal Guard should already be waiting there,” adds the monocled man. “We must alert them.”
That was fast. How did the Principal Guard know to come here?Then I remember. A small fleet is always dispatched to sweep the island for survivors after the tournament, before Aurora Isle descends into the ocean again.
Hope floods me. Then it curdles in my veins. I can’t let Madame Vera escape before the Guard gets here.
“Well,” Madame Vera says, looking between me and the Nightshade. “I admit you’ve put up a very impressive show, dear. But do you truly think you stand a chance against me?”
