“Sadal,” I say, turning away from my old friend and towards an old enemy. “You’re coming with us.”
“Oh, I was counting on it,” he purrs.
The First Bloodbane and Cleo watch us gather together. The old witch smiles as if she knows something I don’t. “Good luck,” she says.
“You aren’t coming?” Verity’s voice is filled with surprise, her eyes wide and panicked.
“No, dear.” The old witch shakes her head. “My part in the story has been played, it is ended. I will return to my sisters in the wasteland to tell them what I know. If you do not return, we will do what we can to stop the Shades. To that end, we must prepare.”
“And you’ll leave a complex spell in the hands of this girl?” Erzur waves a hand towards Verity.
“As I said, my role is done,” the First Bloodbane says. She lays a hand on Cleo’s shoulder and Cleo doesn’t flinch, much to my surprise. “Cleo and I will go.”
“Cleo?” Verity asks softly. My hand drifts towards her again, just a whisper of a touch. She’s stiff, awkward, and unsure.
Cleo’s eyes, pale blue like Verity’s, lock onto Verity and I catch a hint of pain in them. But Cleo’s face is a mask of calm when she speaks. “I have no sisters in the mountains. I want to see what life is like in the wastelands.”
“Good luck,” Erzur says, sniffing.
Verity nods but doesn’t speak. I step forward, shielding her slightly with my frame, hoping it will bring her some comfort to be out of sight even just for a moment. “We wish you safe travels.”
The old witch’s eyes twinkle. “And you, Fae King. You will need it.”
Chapter 3
Verity
The witch's cryptic words hang in the air like a death sentence. Altair is frozen by them, his hazel eyes, usually bright and wicked, are dull. I force myself to turn away from him, telling myself that what he says and how he feels are no longer any of my concern. But my heart hurts every time I think the words. My soul feels torn into pieces so small they could never be pieced together again.
Swallowing hard and shoving my sorrow down, down, down, I move away from the others to prepare the portal. Serus follows me, his tail swishing languidly. I know he's keenly aware of my emotions, of my regrets and sorrows. He might be poking through my memories even now. The strange creature seems to enjoy studying my memories the way I would appreciate a fine meal.
“It must be a large portal if we are to usher everyone through,” Serus says, echoing my thoughts.
I pause a few yards from the group in an area clear of columns. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bit of chalk, would you?” I ask jokingly.
“No.” His voice is dull.
I loose a breath, trying to keep the atmosphere light despite the fear eating at me. I close my eyes for a brief moment, thinking to one of my last days in the human realm. I was shopping for a wedding dress with Tara. We had gone to many shops until I finally gave in to Henry’s request and went to a designer boutique. I found my wedding dress almost immediately, fell in love with its crisp fabric, soft lines, and princess-like volume. Tara and I had giggled like fools over the gown. And now look at me. Embroiled in a plot to save a world of Fae from creatures of shadow and death. I wonder for an instant if I’m trapped in a very vivid dream. But then Serus’ claws are in my calf and pain tingles in my nerves. “Are you paying attention?” He snaps. “Your blood.”
I draw out the dagger I stabbed myself with earlier. The sight of it covered in dried, flaky blood makes my stomach churn—mainly because I know what I must do. I drop to my knees and take a deep breath before slipping the sharp blade over my forearm. Blood appears, welling out from between the severed skin and dripping down the curve of my arm. I drop the knife with a clatter and grit my teeth against the pain.
“I can help.” I hear a voice say over my shoulder.
I recognize the harsh, lilting voice of Cleo instantly and my back goes stiff. I lick my lips, dipping a finger into my own blood. “I can do it.”
"Then perhaps I can distract you from the pain as you work," she says, conceding. I flick my gaze towards her, taking in the woman that looks so much like me but nothing like me at the same time. Her blood-red cloak pools around her as she kneels beside me. "Before I leave you, I thought you might have questions."
Don’t make me responsible for this, I want to scream. But I shake my head, nerves jumbling and quaking. “No.”
I can feel her eyes on me, intent and bright. At first, I think she’ll get up and retreat. Neither of us have been brave enough to acknowledge the elephant in the room. But she stays, chewing over her words while I draw a large circle on the sandy floor. “You’re not a very good liar,” she says coldly. “But I understand. However, I cannot leave without telling you the little I know.”
My hand falters, making a dip in the otherwise perfect circle. I coat my finger in more blood to finish the rune while the silence drags on between us. “I erased your father’s name from my memory long ago. But he told me he was from a land made of ice and snow and clouds,” she says. I don’t pause in my spellcasting as I listen, fingers already trembling. “He stumbled into this realm one day and I found him. He was sick with fever from the crossing.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and taste the coppery tang
