I waved my hand to change the scene and the glass rippled again, settling on the street that branched off to a handful of the older estates, my family’s included. Morgana had cast a lovely guard glamour on Idris, hiding even his piercings, and he strolled along the tree-lined street like any other guard watching for trouble.
Another flick of my fingers to move onto the next person. Wesley was crouched on the edge of a rooftop where it jutted out to cover a balcony, barely visible in the dark. I eyed the scene. I knew that balcony; it was the one from Tulia’s room.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be with Morgana while she tracked Sarafine. With her magic stretched so thin, she needed someone to keep an eye on her, and he’d be better suited to shadowing my sister once she was found than Morgana was.
Wesley shook his head, one quick, sharp motion directed toward someone below, then paused for a response. Had he found Kye? Or had Rayick circled back?
I was about to urge the mirror to find one of them when Wesley jumped back a step from the edge. His eyes went wide, and he mouthed what I thought was a curse—more than one—and darted away. The mirror shivered and blurred to follow, but I waved it off, sending it to search for Kye.
The image hadn’t settled but for a few wisps of black when a knock at my door made me jump and snap the spell. I whipped toward it, breathless. “Yes?”
“Your mother has asked me to check that you’ve dressed, Miss.”
I looked at the dress on the wardrobe and swallowed a lump in my throat. “Yes, I’m just finishing. One moment.”
Every inch of me screamed not to, to recast the spell and figure out what had spooked Wesley, but I pulled the dress down and tossed the dressing robe aside. I shoved the thought away. He could handle himself. Mother was occupied with preparations, and Sarafine wasn’t here; at worse he’d have to deal with a servant or guard.
I put the dress on and adjusted the sheer skirt around my legs. Last time I had stood in this spot I’d thought I looked like some ancient, wild forest witch. Was that what I was now: something different and less controlled than the witches I knew? It had started at that moment, but I wondered what had gone wrong—or right. Had I always been meant to end up like this?
There was no sense in pondering. What was done was done, and I needed to focus. I tore my gaze from the mirror and stepped to the door. “I’m ready.”
I wasn’t. I never would be, not for this. But I was as ready as I could be.
The door unlocked with a distinctive click and opened. The maid lowered her gaze as I stepped into the hall. No other escorts; I could walk away. Throw her off whatever orders Mother had given her. I could turn around and search the house for Kye, or find Wesley and figure out why he was here and what he’d seen. But I moved on, staring straight ahead. This was one last test.
The closer we got to the sunroom, the more my magic pinched and dug into my chest. I forced my breathing to stay even. I wasn’t going to be able to hold it back much longer, but I needed to for a few more minutes.
Not long at all, I promised it as the doors came into sight. I dug my fingernails into my palms as it lashed inside me. Like it could smell Mother and knew its target. I drew a steadying breath before the maid pushed the doors open. I didn’t hesitate to enter. No time for hesitation, not with the control I had getting so shaky.
This curse made my magic like a gathering storm. The more I contained it, the stronger it got, but eventually it would break and wreak havoc.
It narrowed on Mother. All in black like on my nameday, hair smoothed into a tight twist, face stern and expectant. The goblet in her hands—the one that would hold blood—gleamed like a beacon. I couldn’t breathe, my magic pulsed so strongly. It vibrated along my bones and I fastened my joints. The smell of blood filled the air, making me dizzy.
I barely heard the doors close behind me. Every inch of me was focused on her, my mind spinning into a million plans.
“You look ill,” she commented and gestured for me to take my place. I forced my feet to move. The candles were set in the circle and I was stepped between them; I couldn’t look away from her. “You shouldn’t have waited so long, dearest.”
Did that mean she didn’t know about the curse Morgana had put on me? Did she think this was the result of the power that had already been leaking through, left to run wild for too long?
“You taught me to be firm in my convictions, Mother,” I managed. My voice came out a little too strained.
“As I taught you to trust in your elders.”
“Yes, you did.” I resisted the urge to pray she really was mistaking the curse for weakness. Just in case Nalcai was listening. I’d been hoping it would come across that way, but I had no idea if it had worked or not. She couldn’t be on guard for the extra strength behind any spells I might cast.
She drew the warm blood across my forehead, and something danced on my tongue. Something that made my magic stir desperately. The taste poked at my mind and I raked my brain for why.
The blood had been warm on my nameday, as well. The ritual must have required it be fresh—very fresh.
Where had mother gotten fresh blood on such short notice? One of the staff?
No, she had used witch blood on my nameday. The ritual didn’t call for any ordinary blood, not if she had bled one of my sisters. It had to have called for blood imbued with magic.
My mind spun to Wesley on the roof, darting out of sight, and my own blood went cold.
He’d been speaking to someone. One of the others. Tamsin, Aurynn, and Idris had been too far away. Which left Kye and Rayick.
Kye was somewhere in this house, lurking and waiting. Safe, unless I needed them, which I wouldn’t. They were. They were too smart to have been caught.
And Rayick—Rayick had gotten far away, out of danger as soon as I’d been left on the steps of the house.
But that was a dark and powerful magic, I knew. The glint in Mother’s eyes told me she’d felt it, too.
“Quite a fortunate turn of events, don’t you think?” she asked. “Cursed blood suits our needs so well.”
I couldn’t move. All the air left the world.
She stepped back and set the goblet on a table. “It’d be such a waste; I think I’ll keep the rest. I’m sure we’ll have a use for it. Don’t look at me like that, Neyva. It was a more merciful death than a nasty blood curse would give, and a brute like him didn’t deserve that much.”
The room spun. My stomach churned and bile rose in my throat. I could feel the blood burning into my skin.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t hold back; my magic was writhing, desperate for a way to get out. It sucked at my shock and the rage burning in my chest like they were a feast. I couldn’t stop it. It swirled around my fingertips, and they itched to move, to fling my power at my mother and let it do what it wanted.
She flicked her fingers and the candles lit themselves. I sank to my knees, thankful for the excuse. But surely she saw through me. Surely saw that I was about to vomit, or scream.
“Neyva Morningspell, you turned your back on Nalcai and fled this house. Do you return of your own free will, to right those wrongs?”
I was going to vomit if I tried to speak. I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus again. I couldn’t let anything get to me, not until this was over. “Yes.”
“Do you still call yourself a Daughter of Nalcai?”
“Yes.”
“Do you thank Her for the gifts She has given you, and do you intend to embrace them without fear or doubt?”
“Yes.” Lies, lies, lies. I’d end up burning for eternity if Nalcai really did seal the fate of witches in the afterlife.
“Do you ask that She see you, with all that you’ve done in these past weeks as a fully responsible witch, and reward or punish your actions?”
My magic burned so hot I thought I might scream. The little flickering candle in front of me was laughable compared to its inferno. “Yes.”
“Let the
flame judge you.”
I flung my hand into the flame and didn’t stop to consider whether it burned or not before I looked at my mother. “Have you been judged, Mother?”
Her eyes narrowed. “All witches are judged, Neyva. And I should only hope that She sees you fit to reward after the disgrace you’ve brought to this house.”
Adrenaline and terror pumped through my veins. “Nalcai seems a terrible judge of character, then.”
No more stalling. I yanked my hand up, drawing the flame with it. The other candles followed, flickering, dancing fire rising in a wall around me. I dropped my hold on my magic.
It flew outward, wild and raging. Beyond the shield of fire, I saw only shadows. Glass cracked. I closed my eyes and let my attention narrow to Mother—to all she’d done. Taken my childhood and made me into a killer. Groomed me to be another of her puppets. Sent my own sisters to kill me. Hurt my friends. Focused on my anger and betrayal and grief until it grated my throat and threatened to choke me.
The magic lapped it up like the nectar of life. It wrapped around my hurt and consumed it, grew stronger with it. I pressed my hands to the cold floor to steady myself, struggling for every breath.
From somewhere in the room came a screeching like metal scraping together. Glass rained from above in tiny, stinging pebbles. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed my magic would be enough. That I’d acted quick enough to take my mother off guard. I had one shot at this. If she had time to retaliate, it was over.
The wall I’d thrown up pitched sideways. Then I was rolling across the ground. My shoulder struck the candlesticks and knocked them over. Shards of glass ground into my arms. I yelped a curse and scrambled to catch myself.
Mother stood in front of me, eyes blazing with fury. Blood streaked down her face and arms from cuts, but she was standing proud. Wind roared around us and the cold bit at me; the glass walls and ceiling were falling apart, gaps yawning between the metal supports. A shard hovered at my throat.
“One more minute,” Mother said, shaking her head. “All could have been fine if you had waited one more minute.”
I tried to sort out what to do. My magic raged, lashing at the tables and chairs and rattling them, and burned so hot in every vein I couldn’t breathe. Morgana was right, it would burn me out, and soon. But that meant it was more powerful than Mother’s.
All those sparring sessions with Kye skimmed through my head and I shifted my weight. “I had such high hopes for you,” she said. “From the moment you were born, I knew you could be great. If only you had bothered to learn that, to understand.”
No more thinking and planning. There wasn’t time. I ducked, biting the inside of my cheek as the shard of glass grazed chin, and eyed the plants lining the walls. Every plant we used for magic, all their power lined up and ready to be tapped into. I sent my magic toward them and it surged like a tidal wave, eating up the extra strength. Vines shot at my mother, wrapping around her arms and pulling her back as she tried to follow me.
“I understand perfectly. I learn quickly, remember? That I learned from Sarafine,” I managed between thin, gasping breaths. Mother snapped the vines, toppling pots over and spilling earth across the floor. The abandoned flames of the candles leapt, nipping at the edges of my skirt. I stumbled back but they came faster, faster.
Wind swirled through the room, dotted with little snowflakes, and shoved the flames away. I focused on those snowflakes, where they landed on my mother’s dark hair and dress. Pictured them seeping into her, freezing her to the core the way Kye had almost frozen. Silvery frost spread from her fingertips. “That I learned from Tulia.”
With a flick of her frozen hand, the flames snatched at my dress, slicing through my wind. I staggered a step further away, but my back hit a table. The flames kept coming, circling me. They burned hotter than before, searing my skin as they pressed closer.
My knees shook. My chest felt too tight, my lungs not working. I didn’t have much time.
One more push. I closed my eyes and thought of Katherine. The icicles driven through her chest.
The room exploded.
I ducked my head, arms shielding me from the glass shattering and bursting through the air. A thousand razor-sharp blades directed at my mother. There was clattering and cracking and blood. My legs begged to collapse.
The world stilled. Silent. I counted to ten and then I uncovered my face .
Mother stood, the circle of fire parting around her. Glass and frost tangled in her hair like diamonds and studded her dress, where it wasn’t torn. Shards stuck in her shoulders, her arms, her cheek. Blood blossomed across her chest, blending into the black fabric, but I couldn’t tell where it came from. She swayed on her feet, but still stood.
No.
That had been the last of what I had. I could feel the magic dying, dragging me with it. My hands shook, and I gripped the table for balance.
“So much wasted potential.”
Something flickered at the edge of the fire. I tasted the brush of metallic magic on the back of my tongue, different than the bloody taste of Mother’s.
Not fast enough. My throat closed, unable to draw air. The fire nipped at me.
Then stopped. It fluttered to little wisps. Mother’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped. She staggered.
“That one you probably should have learned,” Wesley said behind her. “Don’t turn your back on an open window.”
Mother fell to her knees as Wesley let go of the knife in her back. Black swam in the edges of my vision, dizzy, but I rushed past her and flung my arms around him. “You’re alright,” I gasped.
“You looked like you could use some help.”
I hauled him by the arm to the door. “We have to find the others. Kye—”
“We have to find Rayick.”
“What?”
His jaw tensed. “He came back to help. He shouldn’t have, but he did. I tried to talk him into leaving but somebody spotted him. I didn’t see…” He trailed off and shook his head. My heart dropped to the floor. My eyes burned.
Not Rayick. He was light. Goodness.
“Wesley, she…” I glanced at the goblet of blood, knocked to the floor and spilled in the chaos.
But my mother wasn’t lying near it, where she should have been. The floor was empty except for splatters of blood and glass.
“She’s gone.”
Wesley swore. “How?”
“She’s a witch, and a Morningspell. She must have had a way.” My mind moved into a whirlwind again, trying to catalogue every spell I knew and find one that could help get her away so quickly and silently, but I was too exhausted. I was shaking, gripping Wesley’s arm. “I have to find her. She’ll come back and it’ll be worse—”
“We have to find Rayick, Neyva.”
“Rayick’s dead, Wesley.” It burst out of me, and tears stung my eyes. He took half a step away, eyeing me. My voice shook. “She…she bled him for the ritual. I should never have used it to get her guard down, I didn’t think about the fresh blood, but neither of you were supposed to be here and…and…” I didn’t have words. Guilt snatched them away.
Rayick was dead, and it was my fault.
“You’re sure?” Wesley whispered. I forced a nod. “Where’s his body?”
“I don’t know.”
“You find Kye, I’ll find him.”
I wanted nothing more than to see for myself that Kye was alright. Show them they hadn’t needed to lurk here after all. But I swallowed hard and shook my head. “I need to find my mother. As soon as possible. She’s injured, she’s weak, I can end this if I can find her before she has a chance to recover.”
“No, you can’t! Look at yourself. You can barely stand.”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t, I was far from it, but I could go on. I pushed past him and dragged myself to the door, down the hall. He followed, grief and stress and irritation radiating off him. “You find Kye and Rayick’s…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, but he nodded. “Tell Ky
e I’ll find all of you when this is done. I need to end it myself.”
“Miss Neyva?” a maid piped up from the corner, looking like she was preparing for me to strike her. Fear shone in her eyes.
I must have been a horrible sight, singed and bloody and shaking, but I forced all the authority I could into my voice. “This is a friend. He’ll be searching the house for something. He has full permission to. Let nobody disturb his work.”
She ducked her head. “Yes, Miss, of course. Your…your sister arrived and left this for you.” She held out a wooden box. I closed my eyes to breath. Sarafine was leaving me things. She knew I was here and had something else up her sleeve, since she hadn’t come to join the fight.
I took it and stared at the intricately carved lid , then pushed it up. Wesley hovered over my shoulder. An apple sat inside, a bite taken from it and turned brown. I picked it up by the stem.
Magic rolled off it and snipped at my fingertips. A magic poison, the exact kinds I’d used when Mother gave me targets. It was personal, a crafted message.
“Neyva,” Wesley breathed. I looked down.
Nestled beneath the apple was a feather. A dark golden feather.
The box slipped from my hands. The apple thumped to the floor.
“Is that what I think it is?” Wesley asked in a horrified whisper.
Even as I answered, the words didn’t sink in. Shock numbed me head to toe. “Kye never made it to the house.”
My sister had interrupted them, and they had taken a bite from that poisoned apple.
Thirty-One
“What does the apple mean?” Wesley asked for the third time as I paced the hall, trying to think. The walls tilted around me. “Neyva.”
“It means she poisoned Kye,” I snapped.
“Poisoned?”
Poisoned with one of mine. The same magic poisons I’d studied and used over and over—how many people had I killed with them? How many people had I put in the position I was now, near-panicking over someone they loved falling victim?
The Ruin of Snow Page 31
