“I suppose I’ll have to do this myself,” he breathed in my ear.
The scales of his claw felt cold and unnatural against my skin as he dragged me toward the window. We stopped at the ledge.
The chill, nighttime breeze washed over me. Crickets chirped from the field far beneath us. My heart pounded in my chest, and I had trouble breathing. Panic gripped me. This man—this murderer—my father, was going to kill me. There was nothing I could do to stop him. Whatever magic I’d used was spent. I had nothing left.
“Please,” I pleaded, my voice so panicked I barely recognized it as my own. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t beg, Gothel. It’s unbecoming.”
“But I’m your daughter.”
“Does that make any difference?” he yelled. I shuddered, the anger in his voice bringing back memories I thought were forgotten. “Your mother was a fool. I’ll kill her after I kill you.”
“No, you can’t!”
“I will. I’ll drag her out of that castle and kill her. I’ve done it once. I’ll do it again, but this time, she won’t be coming back.”
I tried to wriggle free from his grasp, which only made him tighten his grip around my neck, choking me.
Raj slowly got to his feet. Breathing heavily, he limped as he made his way toward us. “Leave her alone,” he demanded.
“Never. She’s got to be executed. She escaped the tower. Defied my orders. Worse, she fell in love with a cursed Outlander. She must die. There’s no other way this ends. I will execute her for all to see. She’ll become an example of what happens to someone who defies me.”
He took another step back, his magic coalescing around us. Its power tingled on my skin. He would use his powers to transport us away to my execution. If I didn’t stop him now, I never would.
As he prepared the spell, his grip around my neck loosened. Breathing deeply, I focused on his magic—powers that felt strangely like my own. He’d learned to morph his own body and control others. Was it possible I could do something similar? Could I make his powers become mine?
I called on his magic, drawing it to me. It resisted at first, but as I prodded, the enchantment gained substance until my father’s magic gathered painfully tight in my chest. He gasped as the magic left him.
“What are you doing?” he breathed. “Are you taking my magic?”
“Yes.”
“H-How?” he stuttered. “Stop this now!”
“I can’t do that. I can’t let you hurt anyone else. I’m sorry, Varlocke.” I’d used his formal name because I refused to call him father. He never was one to me.
I released his own magic against him. Electric power crackled around me, through my skin, and into the strands of my hair that glowed brightly. A thunderous boom shook the entire tower as the magic blasted outward. The high sorcerer lost his grip around my waist. The force flung him backward. He flew off the ledge, screaming as he tumbled through the air, shrieking with an inhuman wail as his body hit the ground with an echoing thump—and then all became silent.
Gasping for breath, I stood looking over the ledge. Clutching the worn stones, I focused in horror and relief at the broken body lying at the foot of the tower.
The others gathered around me. We stood unspeaking, looking toward the horizon as the sky lightened beyond the forest. Most of the fires had died out, leaving only thin trails of smoke that snaked upward.
The gathered armies had stopped fighting. Perhaps they’d seen the high sorcerer’s body fall from the tower.
“Are you okay?” Raj asked.
I lightly touched my neck where he’d stabbed me. The blood had grown cold and sticky and no longer trickled free. “Yes.”
“I am so sorry—”
“No.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “You weren’t under your own power. Varlocke did this. Not you. Don’t apologize. Please.”
He smiled—that brilliant expression that stole my breath. “Fine,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I won’t apologize. How about I congratulate you instead. You did it. You defeated the high sorcerer.”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure killing my own father was something I could be proud of, yet relief replaced my panic—relief that not only I would live, but that everyone else would live as well.
21
We stood in the immense, crowded courtyard of King Duc’Line’s castle. A month had passed since we’d killed the high sorcerer. I’d experienced my fair share of guilt for killing him, yet as the weeks wore on, and the kingdom repaired the damage he’d done—and prepared for a special wedding—my guilt faded.
Raj held my hand as he walked beside me. He flashed his charming grin, the one that had made me weak in the knees from the beginning. Curse that smile. It brought nothing but trouble, though I had to admit, I liked it.
Odette and the wolf also walked beside us. The dragon woman chatted as she went, and the wolf walked with a lolling tongue and wagging tail. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky beyond the towers. After we’d defeated Varlocke, I’d talked to Odette about going back to the witch’s castle to rescue Drekken. She’d agreed but wanted to wait until after the wedding. She had a difficult choice ahead of her: to trade herself for Drekken’s freedom, and I didn’t envy her. But for now, I only wanted to enjoy the day, and I didn’t worry too much about Drekken. He had his flask of ale, after all.
We walked under a wide archway into the palace. Vines with tiny yellow flowers grew up the impressively tall pillars leading to a ceiling with an elaborate mural of a garden. The scent of honeysuckle filled the air. Fairy homes that resembled birdhouses had been constructed atop poles jutting from pillars. Fairies flitted in and out. The soft light emitted from their bodies lit the room in a pale white glow.
At the front of
