“We’ve gained some intel about the witches’ and Curseds’ weaknesses,” Asmo’s voice bellows. “Ice will also kill them. If you can’t summon enough to freeze them outright, use it to slow them and then behead them. There are friendly witches in the crowd that you are not to harm. They are wearing red ribbons. Kill everyone else. Do you understand? Do not attack Cora. Focus your energy on the witches. They die today.” He pauses, lifts his chin. “We take back the kingdom today.”
Murmurs of agreement begin to ripple through the crowd. August watches Asmo appreciatively. Elle stands beside August, jaw clenched tightly. This is the fight for our birthright. For the one piece of our father that remains.
Outside, a crack of thunder booms, and the wind stirs. Witches sneer as we approach. Our army is larger, but they are stronger. Even from across the battlefield, Cora watches me as I take my place behind my army.
The wind dies, and Cora speaks. Her voice is projected, surrounding us as if carried by the wind.
“I have something that belongs to you.” She shifts her gaze to Elle. “Or maybe to you.”
Elle’s spine stiffens. I don’t know why the fuck we thought it would be a good idea for her to be here. She just escaped this place, this witch. But she insisted on being here. On fighting.
The Cursed bears move, revealing a third undead grizzly bear.
A body hangs from its maw.
It lumbers forward, the army of witches parting for it as it cuts through the crowd.
“If you want him so badly, you can have him,” Cora calls as the bear passes the first line of witches, then opens its mouth. The body hits the ground with a heavy thump.
Horror crawls up my throat. I grab Elle before she can sprint toward the male that lies motionless on the ground.
Marik.
Chapter 49
ELLE
I didn’t knowmy vision could turn red. Black, yes. Blissful unconsciousness and sleep are welcome friends.
But red, no.
Yet, when the Cursed drops my mate from its mouth, red is all I see. The crimson stain on his shirt, the dried blood that covers his nose, his mouth, the dozens of wounds that pepper his torso.
My heart slows in my chest as I stare at him, as if it’s trying to match the nearly nonexistent beat of his.
He can’t be dead. The bond is still there, writhing and angry and vicious inside of me.
Blood pounds through my veins, echoing in my ears, as I stare at him. As rage fuels me.
Rage at Cora, for what she’s done to my mate. Rage at the Mother, for making him my mate. For turning him into something cold and cruel before I had the chance to know who he was before the world hardened him. Rage at Her for the life he was forced to live, to the little boy who wasn’t given a chance to know kindness and love before hate began to grow in his heart. Rage at myself for not being able to turn away from him even now, when he deserves this fate.
Bright, hot, crimson rage settles over me as I fix my gaze to the First Witch.
I scream.
Chapter 50
MAE
Elle’s screammakes the hair on the back of my neck stand. It’s filled with agony and anger and desperation.
It is the perfect war cry.
We charge, meeting Cursed and cambions and witches with swords and fire and a love for this kingdom that they’ll never have. We falter and stumble. The first line of Cursed fall quickly, putting our army directly in the path of the witches. And they’re walking toward us, hands already writhing with dark magic.
Marik’s body lays unmoving in the middle of the two armies.
A hand clamps around my shoulder. “Your Highness,” Basil pants. “He’s alive. His aura is still there.”
