A gull cries, jerking my attention to the window, where the spinning wheel waits. The spindle. Weapon, my mind registers.
But I don’t want to hurt Kal. He’s confused, as I had been. He needs time.
The sleeping curse.
The thought lands in my brain like a drop of water on parched earth.
Yes. I could curse him. Just for a little while. Long enough for me to settle things in Briar. When he wakes, he’ll see that Aurora isn’t like other humans. He’ll understand.
Wood pummels against wood and the hinges rattle. “Let me in, Alyce. I want to talk.”
As the next blow lands, I pry the spindle free of its moorings.
Sleep, I push through my mind, harnessing my intent. Not death. Only sleep.
Guilt churns through me. I don’t want to do this. But there’s a crunch and the door buckles. Another kick splits the paneling in two. I hardly feel the stab of pain as the tip of the spindle pierces my skin.
Kal stoops through the wreckage, shadows at his heels like loyal dogs. I hide the spindle in the folds of my skirts.
“That isn’t Shifter magic.” I nod to the darkness, struggling to keep my voice level.
“A funny thing about magic.” He knocks aside a section of the door with his boot. “Sometimes, when you live with an enchantment long enough, you absorb its power.” A tendril of soot curls around his ankle. “And we have been so long acquainted.”
The hand holding the spindle begins to shake. This is not the Kal I know. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Nor I you.” He steps closer. “Which is why I cannot let you return to Briar. We leave now. Let the mortals tear their realm to bits. Then the land will be ours for the taking. A new Malterre.”
I blink in confusion. “You want to…to turn Briar into Malterre?”
“Should I not?” He sneers, betraying an ugliness I don’t recognize. My instinct thrums, urging me to act before it’s too late. “The humans razed my lands while I watched. Seizing theirs is only fair. And after that”—greed flashes bright in his eyes—“Etheria itself.”
Dragon’s teeth, he’s lost his senses. I grip the spindle harder, searching for the best place to strike. “That’s exactly the kind of logic that will get the Briar King killed.”
“Ah, but we are not the Briar King.” He laughs and it mingles with a roll of thunder. “We are Shifter and Vila. And we will seek revenge for those who have fallen.” He extends a hand to me. “You must know this is right, Alyce. Avenge your mother’s death. Take justice for all the wrong this realm has dealt you. I know you want to bathe in their blood.”
I release an unsteady breath. When I first came to this tower, that’s precisely what I wanted. Vengeance as a balm for the hundred thousand tiny wounds Briar had inflicted. But the sweetness of that future is bland in comparison to what I have with Aurora.
Kal doesn’t understand. He’s too lost in bitterness.
“You will see,” he says. “Together we will—”
Before I lose my nerve, I lunge forward and slam the spindle into his side. Kal curses, jumping backward and flailing. His lips form the shape of my name.
And then he crumples.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
For a long time, I sit and watch Kal sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the flutter of his eyelids. Relief soothes my guilt with each small movement, proof that my curse didn’t kill him as I worried it might. This abysmal morning replays through my mind on an endless loop. I should have known better. Kal lost everyone in the war. And then my mother centuries later. I can’t blame him for desiring vengeance. But I won’t let him take Aurora’s throne to get it.
The sleeping curse I enacted on the spindle should last about as long as one of my elixirs, since it was crafted out of need and not desire. I’ll decide what to do with Kal when he wakes.
Throwing a tattered blanket over him, I go downstairs and wait for Laurel. It’s evening now. Thunder rumbles, rattling loose stones in the upper floors. The storm has made slow progress. I hope Laurel arrives before it hits. If it’s another blizzard, she could be locked inside for days—we can’t spare that kind of time.
The skies are tinged navy, but quickly darkening to lead as I watch the clumps of trees hiding Briar’s main gates. With the shriek of each passing gull, I wish that I could spot Callow coming to find me. It’s a futile hope. My kestrel can’t fly. But pain throbs in my chest when I imagine her lying sprawled in some alley, her neck twisted and wings splayed out. I fear I will never outlive the guilt that plagues me for her fate.
Lightning forks in the distance, Briar lit up in a blaze of white. If everything goes well, this time tomorrow, the king will be asleep. Mariel will call in the Etherians and—
A frigid wind sweeps underneath me and I’m knocked to my stomach, chin slamming against stone. Blood bursts in my mouth. I choke on the taste of wet, bitter earth. That same invisible grip flips me over onto my back. My arms and legs strain, but they are caught, bound in shadows.
“What in Briar?” I struggle and squirm, but the darkness only clamps tighter.
A ripple of movement catches my attention.
“No.” It’s all I can say. All I can think, as I watch Kal descend the stairs. “I cursed you.”
The shadows bite into my wrists, the cold like a blade.
“You did.” He grins. “But you forgot the key element to your power, as you have done since the day you set foot in this tower: intent.”
Thunder rolls again, a sickening, haunting laugh.
“No, I—”
“You said it yourself—you did not want to hurt
