Xander felt the silver pierce his skin, Kyra’s warning giving him the time to turn. It was enough, the blade missing his heart, but barely as the handle broke off from impact. He grunted at the pain, his fist knocking the wraith before he could become ethereal. He hadn’t sensed the bastard at all, not until the last second when it stepped out from beyond its glamour.
A flash of light, and then Kace was there, serrated claws extended as rage burned in his eyes. His markings glimmered darkly within his grey fur, a reflection of the tattoos on the man. Xander took in the situation with one quick sweep. Kace, the screaming wraith and another dead by the bookcase, its throat cut from ear to ear. He scented both sulphur and smoke, and from the great thunders he had felt only moments before he suspected that the dead witch had hidden an explosive surprise.
Xander saw the slight glimmer in the air this time, catching the blade as it thrust towards him. With a quick flick he broke the wraith’s wrist, catching the knife as it fell and shoving it into the Fae’s gut.
“Xee?” Riley called, a heavy sword held in his hand. His gaze flickered to Kace, who had begun to eat the now dead Fae. “What happened?”
Xander couldn’t speak through the cold rage that burned his chest. His beast rippled beneath his skin, their minds almost merged as he twisted the blade, enjoying the scream.
“Kace!” Riley snapped, pulling at the great beast as if he were a puppy. Kace snarled, lips pulling back to reveal thick fangs tainted red. Riley stared him down, even as the beast roared a warning. After a tense second Kace huffed, stepping back.
Xander pulled the knife free, the urge to keep stabbing strong. Instead he knocked him to the floor, beside the mess that was left of his friend so Riley could reach down and pin him with his sword.
The wraith flickered, struggling to disappear while impaled with the metal.
“Fun fact,” Riley growled. “This sword had iron through the centre.” Iron being an irritant to Fae folk, the same way silver upset shifters.
Luckily Xander was neither, the blade still stuck in his back nothing but a fucking nuisance. It was Jax who noticed it, his brow furrowed as he appeared at his side. Soot covered half his face, the skin beneath red and blistered.
“Fuck sake,” he grumbled, pinching it between his fingers. The blade slipped out as easily as it sliced in. “Who’s our friend?” he asked with cool disdain, tossing the blood-coated dagger onto the floor like it was a toothpick.
Xander finally found his voice, the low timbre void of everything but pure ice. “I have no idea, but he’s going to tell us exactly where they have taken her.”
Chapter27
Kyra
Kyra bit her lip, her hands twisting beneath the table, the handcuffs on her wrists heavy.Frederick sniggered from his position in the centre, the bruises across his face a shade of sickly yellow. Her skin was much worse, even if her colouring hid the nastier of the bruises. She would heal, and have even more scars to add to her growing collection. The enforcers had not been kind.
She met his gaze head on, hoped he could read the hate as she straightened in her seat. His smile tightened slightly, but they would never believe her word against his, he knew it and so did she.
Fight or flight, that was the instinct, and she was tired of running.
“Kyra Farzan, how do you plead?” the first Triumvir witch to Frederick’s right asked, glasses perched at the edge of her nose as she stared with critical eyes. Her face was cruelly pinched, her too long nose thin and slightly upturned, emphasising her withered slender lips. Kyra couldn’t help but compare her to the children’s horror stories, and had to fight the nervous giggle when she imagined the woman in a black witches hat and skin painted green.
Kyra in return knew she looked feral, her hair wild and blood still soaked her front. They had arrested her and immediately taken her to court, not giving her a chance to wash or change. She wasn’t allowed a representative, or a solicitor to plead her case. Or to even ask what happened to Xander, remembering the knife sinking into his skin.
“Miss Farzan?” The second Triumvir witch to the left prompted when she remained silent, his face young, too young to be one of the head witches of The Magicka. He barely looked older than Kyra, which for some reason made the situation worse. “You have been accused of practicing black magic without a license, how do you plead?”
Kyra knew she had a valid license, but it looked like it was recently voided.
Frederick grinned, knowing her train of thought. The other two didn’t seem as excited, more indifferent as they waited for her reply.
Judge, jury and executioner. The Triumvirate, three witches who would decide her fate because of the magic she practiced, and one witch who had forced her into it.
Her chest tightened as Frederick chuckled, but she remained silent. They sat themselves on tall podiums, positions of power with Frederick in the centre. He touched the thread detailing on his velvet cloak, fingers crooked, broken.
“If you remain silent, we will rule without a plea,” Frederick said before gesturing to the woman.
The female Triumvir pursed her lips. “Then as per the laws of The Magicka to protect our Breed, Kyra Farzan you have been found guilty of practicing black magic without a license.”
“The sentence,” Frederick added with a poisonous smirk, “is death.”
Kyra closed her eyes, not caring as someone gripped her arm tightly, yanking her from her seat. She knew the risks, and was surprised she didn’t feel more upset that her life was at an end. No, she was angry, angry that all the stuff she had put up with in her twenty-eight years had led to her death at The Magicka’s hands.
“Come on,” the enforcer sneered quietly into her ear, his breath an unwanted intimacy as he dragged her from the court and towards the holding cells. The walls turned to stone as he guided her, a chill teasing her ankles as her t-shirt stuck to her skin.
“Through here,” another enforcer said, gesturing to an open chamber. There were three in the hall, and he wanted her to go into the one on the furthest right. “We will transfer you to the prison later today where you will wait until we have a date set for your execution.”
