With the way Marik looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if his aura barely clung to him. I don’t ask Basil, though. Not with Elle nearby. “We need to get him,” I say to Asmo.
He frowns. “What if it’s a trap?”
I tug on the end of my braid as I think through the options. As much as I would love to leave him in the middle of two armies to be trampled on, we need him if we have any chance of defeating Cora. I spin around and charge toward Roe. “Change of plans,” I order. “Enact phase one now.”
He nods curtly and turns to his soldiers. “Now!” he barks.
A portion of the Fae holster their weapons and splay their hands. The witches begin to shriek as they fight off hallucinations of their worst nightmares, clawing and swinging swords at creatures—or whatever is enough to make a witch scream—that aren’t there. Some of them accidentally strike other witches, only adding to the chaos.
I sprint back to Asmo. “I just bought us some time. Let’s go.”
“Cover me.” He shifts into his serpent form and slithers through the hybrids. I sprint after him and summon a shield, tossing it over him as he nearly knocks a hybrid from their feet as he passes. Thankfully, most of the witches are too distracted to notice us as we approach them. My shield is attacked, the acidic sting of black magic eating away at it. Another hit comes, but it holds firm.
Asmo reaches Marik and scoops him into his jaw. He turns back to me, and my shield is attacked again. I grit my teeth and strengthen it, but when I turn, a witch blocks our path. I duck as a wave of black comes toward us.
It never reaches my shield.
“Go!” a voice calls, and Asmo slithers past the witch, now dead, Amaris yanking her fire-imbued daggers from the witch’s neck. She stands her ground, watching as we retreat behind the front lines once more.
Asmo drops Marik, and Elle rushes toward him. She leans over him, says his name, then resorts to beating on his chest and screaming at him. But he doesn’t stir.
Asmo shifts back into his hybrid form. He glances at me, worry on his features. I don’t know what to do either. I don’t know how to handle this. What would I want someone to do if my mate was laying lifeless in front of me? What would Ineedsomeone to do for me?
I crouch beside her. “Elle,” I say softly. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but we have to join this fight. Or they will take him again.”
She whips her head to me, teeth bared at my words. But then her face falls, and she buries it in her hands. “I fucking hate him, Mae.”
My chest squeezes. I could have easily ended up with Marik as my mate. “I know. We’ll figure it out together,” I say, because I don’t know what elseto say.
She wipes a tear from her cheek and shoves herself from the ground. Her red hair is a bright contrast to the black fighting leathers she wears, whisps pulled loose from her braid and flying in the wind.
The battle is in full swing now. Screams, bellows, elemental magic, and black magic fly. Fae warriors fall from portals in the sky with swords drawn, landing on unsuspecting witches and felling them. Cursed hawks and vultures take flight, deformed talons reaching for exposed necks as they swoop down. I incinerate them before they can even get close. Ash falls, coating my hair and landing on my lips like morbid snowflakes.
Beside me, Asmo surveys our army.
“How did she know we were coming?” I ask him. “I can’t figure it out.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. It’s been bothering me, too. The only thing I can think of is the mirror. Cora is essentially made from black magic, so she has access to the same spells we do. Maybe that’s how she got around Luca’s blood oath.” The mention of the traitorous weasel has my blood boiling all over again. “My theory is that after she learned you were still alive, she found a way to watch you.”
I groan. I’m not sure why we didn’t consider that. I make a mental note to figure out how to block that whenever we get back on the throne. There’s got to be something.
Asmo continues to watch the battle as it rages on, firing black flames intermittently or providing shields to protect hybrids as needed. So far, all I’ve managed to do is char some undead birds. I need to get higher. I need a better vantage point.
Elle is re-braiding her hair for the fifth time, a habit that I also tend to do when I’m anxious. She’s used to being involved in the action, too. Neither of us knows what to do back here. The plan was to keep Asmo, Elle, and me at the very back. Not only are we the High Family, but we’re also the key to winning this thing. If we die, the war is lost.
But the urge todo somethingis overwhelming.
I turn, desperate to find something to stand on. But there’s nothing. August and Barrett shout orders over the mayhem of the battlefield, directing their assignedgroups.
Barrett. I sprint to him. “I need you to shift so I can sit on you and see. I can’t see anything down here, so I can’t help.”
“Do it,” August orders.
Barrett shifts into his grizzly form, and I have to crane my neck to tell him to sink down. He’s huge, and if I didn’t know him, I would be terrified. On all four feet, he towers over me. He lowers himself as much as he can, and I climb onto his back. I grip his soft, brown fur and hold tight as he rises. He stands at his full height, and although the ground is a shocking distance beneath me, I breathe a sigh of relief at what I see.
We’re advancing on them.
We’re actually doing this. Beheaded witches lay limp on the ground, ashy piles of undead animals and witches are trampled through as our line advances. Our ranks have thinned, but not by much. The Fae’s hallucinations gave us a slight advantage. Two hybrids take on a witch in all-black leathers. The witch is supernaturally fast, but we trained for this. All the work we’ve been putting in is making a difference.
