“You cling to my fragments,” he says, and the voice is layered, not one but many speaking at once. “Reflections of what once was. How quaint.”
My jaw tightens as I hold his gaze, forcing myself not to look away, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way that face hits deeper than it should.
“You don’t get to wear him,” I tell him, my voice steady even as something twists low in my chest.
The Idol smiles, but it’s not Eron’s smile.
It never could be.
The pressure in the room turns suffocating, their power no longer held back, no longer measured. They’re going to risk killing me and Gwyneth. That doesn’t make sense. Unless... the truth hits me in my chest. They have the original Grimm brothers somewhere, which changes everything.
My gaze catches Gwyneth’s as she realizes the same thing.
Flames coil higher around another Idol, no longer obedient, spilling outward in sharp arcs that cut through the space and flare toward us. Theo catches my eye before shifting, bone and fire tearing through the air as his dragon form takes over,wings snapping wide and forcing back the first surge of flames that comes for us. Heat rolls across my skin, but it is nothing compared to what he meets head-on. He roars, and the agony rippling across my body steals my breath and makes my vision waver. That’s no ordinary fire. He won’t be able to hold it for long without it costing him his life.
“We need to do this now,” I tell her from beneath the protection of Theo’s wing.
She releases my hand and drops to one knee, her hand diving into her pocket and pulling free the four vials. There’s no hesitation, no searching for the right moment. She spares me a quick glance, confirming what we’re about to do. I nod. Now that I know how to rid myself of the power I worried would consume me, I can take it.
Stan stands beside us, watching as Gwyneth places the four glass tubes onto the floor. He stomps on them with his hoof, and the blood spreads out on the marble. I let go of Nash with a soft, encouraging smile while my sister pulls out the dagger strapped to her thigh. She drags the tip along her palm, and after I kneel beside her and repeat the motion, we clasp hands, our conjoined blood dripping over the Idols’.
Nash freezes at the temptation.Not yet, my dark knight. Hold on. Please, just hold on.
Tiny droplets rise, each one an acknowledgment of the crimes against the realm, along with the willingness of these four Idols to step into a new future. In another stream, our sisterly blood rises, and then twin threads of crimson lift into the air, twisting together and forming a ladder of connection.
“You got this?” I check.
She nods once, then throws her arms around my neck and holds me tight. “Don’t die this time,” she whispers. “I will pluck you out of the damn sky myself and make you wish for death if you do.”
Slightly scary Gwyneth is my new favorite.
“Deal,” I croak. “Now let’s bring these mellows to their knees.”
She nods against my shoulder, and I push myself to my feet and join the circle formed around Gwyneth as she begins the chant. My knights, Charming, Genie, Sir Sweeps-A-Lot, and a unicorn. An unlikely mix to defend the future, but it could be no other way.
I side-eye Stan. “You said you were an observer. This is your last chance to bow out before the battle.”
He shows me his teeth and shakes his head. Guess I have my answer. Malachi draws Excalibur while Nash’s shadows circle around our feet, waiting for their chance. Hart,with a sword in each hand, winks at me. Even Charming has drawn his blade.
“Remember what I said,” Nash says, making me look over my shoulder at him. Except he isn’t looking at me, he’s staring at Hart, who jerks his head in agreement.
“What did you say?” I demand.
Nash turns, giving me his back. I glare at him and then at Hart.
“Ready?” he asks. “Because while we stand here chatting, Theo’s getting scorched.”
My jaw tightens at the way they’re playing me. “Let’s go,” I utter, pushing the thought to Theo, who is taking the brunt of the power right now. “Move, Theo.” He resists for a beat. “Move now,” I snap. He fights me for a tempo before lifting his wings. Power crashes from every direction, not aimed, not precise, but overwhelming in sheer force. It presses against my skin, trying to shake my resolve and make me kneel. I refuse to bow. The chaos beneath my ribs answers, surging outward in sharp, jagged bursts that collide with what they throw at me. It doesn’t overpower or erase it. It breaks the shape of it.
The shift in the Idols’ focus is immediate. I’m not the threat, Gwyneth is. The ground beneath her feet splits, and the gold inlaid in the marble is pulled upward, forming a sigil. The twin threads of blood hesitate in the air, their rise faltering for a single, dangerous beat.
Malachi shifts without hesitation, swinging Excalibur through the gold and fracturing whatever horror the Idols were about to rain down on my sister. We just have to hold them off until the spell takes hold. The gold reforms. One sword isn’t going to cut it. If only I had more sentient swords.
Gwyneth’s hands fly out toward Hart and Charming. “Replicate.” All three swords held in their hands hum with the familiar feeling of Excalibur’s power as it shares its magic between them.
My sister is a badass.
Hart grins and rushes forward with Charming—who moves with more grace than I ever thought possible—their blades cutting through the incoming streams of power, buying Gwyneth the time she needs. The chant wavers, then steadies as she forces it forward.
