Nausea curdles in my stomach. I swallow. “We attack at first light.”
Turns out, portaling an entire army takes more time than I anticipated, but we manage to get everyone to the High Castle. The castle is still about a mile away. We could have portaled closer but didn’t want to risk alerting anyone to our presence. The woods are deadly quiet around us as we near, everyone inside sound barriers as we trek toward the castle.
It makes my heart hurt. The forest used to be so lively, full of birds chirping, and squirrels jumping from branches, and deer bounding through. But now, it’s desolate. Dark clouds hang overhead, low and thick with the promise of rain.
I can only pray that Cora is far, far away. Elle says she doesn’t think Marik is near, so we’re hoping that wherever he is, he’s keeping Cora occupied.
We come to a stop at the base of the stairs that lead to the castle, our barriers keeping us hidden. I turn to the army we’ve managed to cobble together and project my voice.
“Today, we fight for our kingdom. We fight for our lives. We fight for the animals and the children. We fight for those who cannot protect themselves against the sharp teeth of the cambions and the Cursed, who can’t defend themselves against the tide of black magic. We fight for what is right.” I pause, the words reminding me of a guard who once said something similar. My chest tightens.
The values of our court are what keep the kingdom…good. And that’s worth protecting.
William.
“Someone once told me that goodness is worth protecting,” I add. “So today, we fight for goodness.”
The crowd roars inside the sound barrier, but my stomach churns. My choices were responsible for William’s death. Who else will die today, because of me?
Hybrids stare back at me, a mixture of wide eyes, of clenched jaws, of nervous energy. Those who don’t have the ability to summon fire wield fireswords, a last-minute addition to the armory, created by one of the Fae. Asmo, Elle, August, Barrett, and I spent all night imbuing our fire magic into them, creating swords with an eternal flame, perfect for felling witches.
Roe, outfitted in a suit of white armor, steps forward. “To my people, revenge is ours. We will take back a piece of our history and stop the witches from destroying another kingdom. They die today.”
The Fae warriors raise swords that most likely fought the witches the last time, their bellows of anger sending my blood humming.
We march.
Asmo, August, and Barrett break the sound barriers the moment we breach the stairs. The doors open of their own accord, welcoming us into the castle, as if begging for rescue. The guards are taken by surprise, knives through their necks before they can draw their swords.
August leads a section of our army and ascends the stairs to the second level, while the rest of us disperse throughout the castle. Asmo and I stick firmly in the middle, protected, but ready to help if needed.
The throne is empty, much to my relief. I was half-expecting Cora to be waiting there, but the only thing that waits for me here are haunted memories and silence.
My stomach churns as we pass through the empty hallways. Something’s not right. I was expecting the entire castle to be crawling with witches. Even if we attacked while they were asleep, they should have been up and out by now. Where are they?
I flash Asmo a look, and the expression on his face tells me he’s thinking the same thing. Up ahead, a Canis hybrid does a double-take as he passes by a window. “Your Highnesses,” he calls, eyes locked on whatever is outside.
“What is it?” Asmo orders.
“You should come take a look.”
I steel myself for whatever awaits me outside. But it’s worse than I imagined.
Outside, the grassy field is full of lines of black-leather witches, undead creatures surrounding them. Behind the witches, two figures sit atop two massive, Cursed grizzly bears, their fur matted and teeth rotting.
Cora.
Her onyx hair flutters in the wind, her aura writhing around her.
How did she know?
Seated beside her is an ethereal-looking female. Her hair is the color of charcoal, sleek and straight. Her riding leathers are jet black, not a lick of color to be seen. She, too, has a black aura around her.
“Who is that?” I whisper.
“Thera,” a voice calls from the end of the hallway. From behind us. I whirl.
Levana stands in the center of the hallway, her raven hair pulled into a tight braid that hangs over one shoulder. Her golden eyes watch us carefully. Asmo shifts me behind him.
