“If I come, you won’t make her face the Witch Lord? She won’t have to fight?”
“No, she won’t.”
Relief bubbled up in their chest like seafoam. They turned, facing Clytemnestra.
Clytemnestra was twirling a lollipop so fast it was only a blur. But she had prepared for war — her teeth and fingernails had been sharpened to wicked points, and her buckle shoes had sensible flat heels.
Tav met her porcelain irises and nodded. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”
The Warlord’s eyes burned pure white with anticipation, flames dancing where pupils might have once lived. “Haven’t you always wanted to meet the Witch Lord?”
Fifty
THE HEIR
Kite turned the invitation over in her hand. The stolen magic swirled up inside her, and when she turned the card at a certain angle to the light, she could see the glossy fingerprints of the Witch Lord’s power that called out to Kite’s essence. After all, they were the same.
She thought about loyalty, luck, and lineages. She wondered what it might be like to no longer be the Heir, to no longer have her existence tethered to another body. One corner of the card snagged on the roughened skin of her thumb and made a quick and calculated cut. Hissing in pain, Kite stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked the algae leaking from the wound.
The Beast sat on her skirts.
“I’m sorry my love, I wasn’t thinking.” Kite offered the wound to the creature, who lapped up the last green droplets on her finger. Steam rose from the wound — the Beast’s saliva was cauterizing it.
“Thank you, darling.” She bent down and kissed the Beast’s head.
Soon she would see her mother again. Soon, the Witch Lord would know of her betrayal. Kite wondered if she was strong enough to resist, or if her mother would drain her essence as she had so many other witches.
She felt strangely calm. She had done it: she had helped Clytemnestra raise an army. She had shattered the steps of the Coven, freed the made-daughters, and brought the lost things home.
Each betrayal lead to the next. Kite had not known she was capable of this rebellion, this recklessness, this intoxicating choice.
Eli had shown her.
Eli.
She had to keep Eli away from the Witch Lord, whatever the cost.
The Beast barked once, and Kite patted his head. “You’re right, precious, we have work to do.”
Pocketing the invitation and wiping the grime of power on her skirts, Kite walked through the wall. As the stone and vines unfurled themselves before her, ushering her deeper into the Children’s Lair, Kite felt like a mourner going to a funeral. With a shake of her head, she shed those thoughts like rain. She couldn’t get lost in her head now.
She had one more task to complete before returning home.
Kite’s homecoming would be a death sentence.
The room was filled with scraps of crushed velvet and silk scarves riddled with holes. A crow was nesting in a pile of half-finished crochet projects. In one corner a rat was chewing on a bedazzled denim jacket. A mahogany vanity stretched across the far wall, the large and stately glass mirror tarnished and spiderwebbed with cracks. Mechanical birds and windup toys of all kinds littered the floor, and Kite had to make her way carefully through the clutter to reach the boi sitting in the plush pink chair, staring at their shattered reflection.
The silver earrings that lined both ears were glowing in the light of the moon. Their hair had been styled to one side, the undercut sharp and clean. The violet tips of their hair looked like embers glowing in a dying fire.
Tav was beautiful. Kite could see why Eli had fallen in love with them.
“Clytemnestra asked me to get you ready for tonight.” Kite moved without making any sounds, but her presence filled the air with the smell of sea salt. Beside her, the Beast licked his forepaw. Kite reached down and stroked his head.
“I didn’t know the Heir followed orders.” Tav was playing with an empty perfume bottle, the glass tinted a delicate pale pink. Kite could smell the lingering notes of black orchid and pomegranate.
“She leads the children, and I am a child.”
“But you’re not a soldier.”
Kite smiled, watching her mouth split in the broken mirror. “No, I’m not a soldier.”
“And Eli?” Tav almost choked on the name.
“We will keep Eli safe.”
“Safe like when you tried to kill her? Or safe like when your friend chained her up?”
“Safety is different in this world, earth-creature. And witches don’t have friends.”
“We call chains ‘safe’ in our world, too, witch.”
“You’re starting to sound like Eli,” Kite observed.
Tav placed the perfume bottle back down on the vanity.
“Why is she sending me?” they asked. “Because I’m replaceable?”
“Because we don’t understand you. Which means the Witch Lord won’t understand you.”
“Understand me?”
“We don’t understand what you are. What you’re made from. How a human has the powers that you have.” Kite could hear Tav’s heartbeat accelerate as she spoke, in excitement or fear. Did they know where their power came from? Did they have secrets that only Eli had tasted? Kite imagined opening the boi’s rib cage to see what was inside, like unwrapping a gift or smashing a pinata.
What would she find at the core of this creature? A human heart beating blood and oxygen through an animal body? Glittering onyx and amethyst like the core of a geode waiting to be cracked open? Smoke and feathers?
“Stop looking at me like that.” Tav swivelled in the chair to face the blue girl. The obsidian blade hummed in warning.
“Like what?” Kite’s hair coiled in on itself, drawing closer to her scalp. The memory of the Witch-Killing Fields was too close.
“Like you want to vivisect me.”
“I only want to vivisect things that interest me,” Kite said earnestly, hoping Tav could hear the compliment.
“Is the Witch Lord going to vivisect me?”
“Maybe.” Kite let her
