“Shit,” I curse, pausing in front of my bedroom door.
Maines watches me from across the room, a grin already forming on her face.
“I can’t leave that through my door; they will tell my father or follow me. Or both.”
She nods and walks toward the open window, the night sky being our perfect camouflage. “We could shift,” she looks at me wildly. “I know where he was heading. He asked me to meet him. I’m late anyways.”
My nose crinkles at the thought of Maines and my brother. I weigh my options at this moment. “Fine,” I snap.
“Hold on,” she squeals as we become mist.
I can’t get a good breath as we move through the shadows. Figures and shapes fly past us, but the fast movement makes us invisible. Even the most talented shifters can’t travel more than a few miles at a time without feeling drained and hollow.
We land, stumbling outside of the castle in a small back courtyard. It’s out of sight to anyone walking around the grounds and, I guess, could be considered romantic under starlight. The dark columns loom over our bodies but create a decent shield from any unwanted sights.
My legs wobble beneath me as I try to regain my composure from the shift, my insides feeling as if I’m still moving.
“Gods!” Maines yelps as she grabs my arm, pulling me further into the darkness and shielding us behind a tall pillar.
I snap my attention to her because of her odd behavior, but as I do, my eyes catch sight of not one figure but two. Thatcher and Barlowe stand before us, not quite in the open, but not entirely concealed by the shadows.
I move closer, making sure to stay in the shadows that cloaks us. Barlowe remains unmoving, his back to us as Thatcher’s teeth grind, anger pouring off his body like a swarm of darkness.
“What the hell would he be doing out here?” I whisper to Maines.
The conversation grows louder as their voices become audible.
“I knew you would try to stop this, Barlowe. You are weak. This kingdom will fall because of you and your sister,” Thatcher thunders in the dark.
“Caring about your family doesn’t make you weak. It would be best if you tried it sometime. I’ve spent the past year working to stop you monsters and your foolish plans. This won’t work,” Barlowe steps closer, challenging Thatcher with words. “No wonder your mother left you and your father before she died. I’d be miserable, too, if I had to spend my life bound to someone likeyou. It’s just a shame that Maines was left to be raised by you two assholes. This will get you all killed. I just hope I’m around to see that happen,” Barlowe retorts.
“It’s unfortunate you feel that way. We could have accomplished great things together, but you had to run off and become a traitor to this kingdom, your own family. You knew the plans we had for this realm—the power we could have wielded together—but you chose her, your sister who abandoned her magic and this kingdom many years ago,” Thatcher tips his head back and laughs. “You chose to attempt to ruin our plan and didn’t think we would find out. I’m not sorry for this. Consider this a welcome home gift from your father. You deserve it.” Thatcher strides forward with a force that would knock any grown man to the ground, the movement happening quicker than my eyes can follow.
My brother stands unwavering in Thatcher’s overpowering presence, a gurgling sound coming from one of them. Thatcher spits in my brother’s direction and glares at him. A branch under my foot snaps, causing Thatcher’s gaze to shoot in our direction before he shifts out of sight.
Something’s wrong.
My gut twists, and the hair on my neck raises. The out-of-control feeling I experience in my nightmares starts to creep over my body.
“Barlowe.” Maines moves cautiously around the pillar toward him. He remains unusually still, not reacting to her voice. She cuts her eyes to mine as we bound across the yard toward my brother.
“Barlowe,” I call, “I know what we can do. I think I figured out your plan.”
A familiar coppery smell hits my nose, panic setting in as Maines twists his body around and screams. His large body slumps to the ground, his hand pressed against the hilt of adagger that protrudes out of the base of his neck. Placing his head in her lap, Maines starts to work on the area, her intensity growing by the second. I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening. Thatcher stabbed him.
Maines trembles as she inspects the wood. “We have to stop the bleeding,” she demands. “I need you to apply pressure where his hand was.”
Barlowe lies motionless. His stare is fixated on Maines as blood now soaks her clothes, her body seemingly so small next to his.
“Briar!” she screams again as I kneel next to my brother in a daze, doing as she instructs. His eyes slowly move to my face as a tear falls from his eye. This can’t be happening.
“I think the dagger was laced with something—poison maybe—but I can’t tell. The blood is leaking too fast to get a good look.” She places her hands over his neck, replacing mine. A dark shadow flows outward straight into his open wound.
He flinches, a groan leaving his throat as the magic enters his body like a snake. “Nothing is happening—why is nothing happening, Maines?” I shout, bile rising in my throat.
Maines’s eyes dart back and forth as her calm composure slowly disappears. “I… I need to go to the castle to grab some supplies. There is no time for ritualistic healing; we need to stop the bleeding and fast. It’s not clotting like it needs to. Something else is making the wound leak faster than normal. Keep the pressure on his neck as hard as you can, Briar, and do not let up. Put your entire weight on him.” She shifts into the shadows. I’m alone with my brother, standing over his fallen body, soaked in blood.
This can’t be real.
