by Marisa Mills
“But that won’t happen instantly,” Tatiana replied. “The demons would need time to leave the prison, and we have no idea how long that would take.”
“Once Reverie begins to fall, she’ll fall fast,” Dorian said, “which means she’ll destroy Plumba and if Reverie’s army happens to be beneath—”
“You mean, my father might have deliberated moved his armies out of harm’s way?” Alexander asked.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dorian nodded, scratching his chin. “It’s a wise move, strategically. But Celeste may try to move Reverie’s forces beneath the fall zone,” Alexander said.
“Or push Reverie somehow,” I said. “If Reverie falls, Aubade would still have to face Reverie’s army—unless they’re all destroyed.”
“And even if my father knew the dangers, his soldiers may not.”
“Then, we should warn them,” Alexander said. “If we can reach my father, he can have Reverie’s forces move to safer ground.”
“You’re still assuming the king will listen to us,” Viviane said. “When has King Gregory ever listened to you?”
“Never,” Alexander replied, “but there’s a first time for everything.”
“What about other options?” Sterling asked. “Since you got super powerful demons now, can’t you just fly up to Aubade and open their demon chamber? That’d make Celeste show up, wouldn’t it?”
“Offense is the best defense,” Eleanor nodded. “It’s a good idea.”
I bit my lip. “Maybe—”
“Did Nick tell you how to open the demon chamber?” Dorian asked.
“He said it required blood,” Tatiana replied.
“Yes, but not the little cuts you’re imagining,” Dorian said. “After taking power in Aubade, he created a powerful charm to protect Aubade’s chamber. It requires a tremendously personal sacrifice.”
“As in, you have to kill someone?” I asked.
Dorian nodded. “Someone you truly care about.”
I shivered, remembering my conversation with my father’s demons. I wonder if spending so much time with them had warped his mind, or if emotional attachment was truly the most powerful magic.
“I’m sure there’s a way to break that enchantment, but we’d need time to figure it out,” Dorian said. “The best plan seems to be to find the king. As long as we know he still has the pendant, Reverie should be safe. And if he’ll allow it, the pendant may help us defeat Celeste.”
“Let me talk to him,” Alexander said. “If Wynter rides into battle with five demons like a wrath from hell, with you beside her, he’ll never listen.”
Everyone was looking at me, as if it were my decision. But I couldn’t do this alone. That was Nick’s mistake. He thought solitude and isolation was power, but it wasn’t. I wouldn’t let them ride into battle unprotected.
“We divide up the rings,” I said, pulling the rings from beneath my shirt. “I don’t think I could handle all four of these at once, anyway.”
I met Dorian’s gaze and wondered if he was thinking about how he could’ve handled them. If he was, he hid it well.
“But we can’t hear them like you can,” Tatiana said.
“Do you know how Celeste gained the power to talk to demons?” I asked.
Dorian shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I assume Nick gave it to her. The two of them were always creating and testing new sigils, but I was rarely privy to what they were doing. Nick told me very little.”
I dug into my pack and removed my father’s journal, flipping through the pages. I stopped at one that looked the most familiar.
“I think I saw this on her arm,” I said. “Do you think you could replicate it?”
“Probably,” Dorian replied, “but the Council spent years trying to make those sigils work without success.”
I nodded, baring my wrists. “But they didn’t have my father’s blood, did they?”
Dorian glanced at Eleanor, his eyes widening. “This is more your field than mine,” he said. “Is it possible for a sigil to be tied specifically to someone’s blood?”
“It’s beyond my powers to create something as complicated as that,” Eleanor said, “but theoretically… it could work. We know that Nick’s ability to speak to demons is hereditary, since Wynter can do it with no training. It’s worth a try, at least.”
“Good,” I said, slipping the rings free from their chain. “But even if you can’t hear them, they’ve agreed to help. Between them, these demons have plant magic, decay, fire, and ice. We also have Lucian.”
“Guess I’m outta the running, huh?” Sterling asked.
“Afraid so,” I replied.
“Well, obviously, Jessa needs the plant magic,” Viviane said.
“But I’m—I’m from Aubade,” Jessa said.
“So what?” I said. “I trust you with my life. It’s not like you haven’t already saved it a few times.”
“I’m not sure I’m strong enough,” Jessa said, glancing the glowing runes behind her.
“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” I said, picking out the ring and handing it to her. “His name is Hyacinth.”
Jessa hesitated. Then, she gave a determined nod and took the ring, cupping it between her hands.
“You should keep decay,” Alexander said. “You’re the only one of us who has experience using it, and it’s a notoriously volatile power.”
There was a murmuring of agreement. It looked like Sibyl was remaining with me, then.
“Ice?” I asked, pushing Freya’s ring to Dorian.
Dorian smirked and nudged it back towards me.
“I’ll do without,” he replied, clasping his sword. “I like a challenge.”
Viviane swiped the ring and pulled it on her finger.
“I’ll be a better ice mage than you, Uncle,” she teased.
“We’ll see, dear,” Dorian replied, with a smirk.
“That leaves fire,” I said.
There were three mages left, Alexander, Tatiana, and Eleanor.
I raised an eyebrow at Alexander, who shook his head. “Tati?” I asked.
Tatiana grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she replied.
With a smile, I passed her the ring.
“So,” I said, turning to the others. “This is a mage war, which means without magic—”
“I hope you’re about to lecture them,” Francisca said, sweeping her hand vaguely in Sterling’s direction. “I’m fighting alongside His Lordship, whether he consents to it or not.”
“I’ll be happy to let you put your knives in a few mages,” Dorian replied.
“And I ain’t gonna sit back and do nothing,” Sterling replied.
“We’re with you, Wynter,” Briar said.
I looked to Claribel, who smiled. “I think they’re both old enough to make their own decisions,” she said.
I slipped Sibyl’s ring on my finger and felt energy flood through me. Lucian’s dark feathers spread out behind my shoulders suddenly, nearly lifting me off my feet.
I feel stronger, he said. When I was fighting Gabriel, you picked up your uncle’s sword and I felt strength rush through me. I think, if you’re in contact with an enchanted object, it increases your powers, and mine.
I pulled my sword, swishing it through the air. It easily caught on fire, and when I slashed it through a nearby tree branch, the wood split like butter, the bark singing against the hot metal.
“One more thing,” Claribel said, unfolding a familiar red garment from her bag. “If you’re riding into battle, you’ll need armor,” she said, holding out the scarlet dress Dorian had given me.
“It’s enchanted for your protection,” Dorian nodded. “From Selene. It will keep you safe.”
“You expect me to sneak around a battlefield in a red dress?”
“If you can’t sneak in a dress,” Viviane said, with a sly grin, “then you can’t really sneak at all.”
>
Twenty-Three
“CUT ME,” I SAID, HOLDING out my wrist. Dorian made a small incision on the inside of my elbow, deep enough so that blood ran freely down my arm. I held my bloodied hand over the small, wooden bowl in my lap. Considering all the dirt, sweat, and grime my clothes were already stained with, I was already past worrying about a little blood.
We’d walked through the forests of Plumba all morning, until we’d come to the small meadow Alexander and I had visited after our fall from Reverie. Where my parents had written poetry, climbed trees, shared illicit kisses and freed demons. Someone had carved a rough table out of a fallen tree, and surrounded it with small wooden stools. We gathered together under the heavy trees, watching the white clouds and ruins reflect over the shallow water.
Eleanor held my father’s journal for Dorian as he dipped his silver pen in my blood, tracing the sigil carefully over Tatiana’s arm.
“Well?” I asked, after a few moments. “Do you hear anything?”
Nyx, in the form of a ghostly crow, sighed from Tatiana’s shoulder.
Tatiana furrowed her brow. “No,” she said, turning her arm in the dappled sunlight.
I frowned, pulling at the thick, roughly-sewn sleeves of my leather jacket. Beneath it my arms were bare. Briar had hacked off the dress at the knees and shoulders, leaving me just enough to cover my vital organs, and repurposing the rest of the fabric into scraps the others could fasten beneath their clothes for added protection.
Eleanor hovered over my shoulder. “Dorian, try curving that lower line more,” she said.
Dorian traced over the mark, thickening it. A sudden ache surged through me, like he’d stuck my nerve with a needle, and I grimaced. Clearly, something magical was happening. Was it supposed to hurt so much? I gave Tatiana a hopeful look, but she shook her head.
“I don’t suppose you know what we’re doing wrong?” I asked.
I haven’t the faintest, Nyx replied.
Tatiana’s eyes widened suddenly. “He wants me to faint?” she asked.
I laughed, relief washing through me.
“That’s not quite what he said,” I replied. “But it took me a while to hear Lucian. At first, it was just hisses and fragments of sentences.”
“But—but I heard him!” Tatiana exclaimed, her face lighting up. “It worked!”
“One more thing,” Eleanor said. “We need to trap the ink under the skin.” Sterling had started a small fire, and she stuck a flat knife in the coals until it was red hot. Then she approached Tatiana with it, the edges so hot it distorted the air around it.
Tatian cringed at the hot blade, sweat beading on her brow.
“Relax,” Francisca said. “She’s not going to burn you with it.” She held Tatiana’s arm carefully as Eleanor leaned in close, the orange glow of the blade casting light on her face in the shadows of the trees. She held it an inch over Tatiana’s skin. She bit her lip and grasped the underside of the table, but didn’t cry out. Once Eleanor was done, the sigil had turned a dark, golden brown that glittered when she moved her arm.
“That should last a few weeks,” Dorian said. “Then you’ll need to renew it.”
“I’m next,” Alexander said, plopping down beside Tatiana.
“You realize…” I trailed off.
This was the crime that had me sentenced to twenty lashes and nearly exiled from Reverie. The crime Alexander had whipped me for. As he rolled up his shirt sleeve, Alexander didn’t look away from my face. His expression was a strange mixture of guilt and sorrow, but he clenched his jaw with steely determination.
“That I’m joining you in high treason?” he asked. “Yes. I suppose war makes rebels of us all.”
“I think it suits you, Your Royal Highness,” Dorian said cheerily, beginning to draw the lines. Eleanor swatted her brother on the shoulder.
“You would,” she said.
I cringed as the tattoo took hold, draining my energy, but kept the pain off my face. Alexander wasn’t getting a ring, but we decided everyone should get my father’s mark in case we needed it. Tatiana walked away, whispering with the ring cupped between her palms.
“Thank you,” Alexander said softly. “If the crown would make a man like you a criminal, perhaps it’s time for the laws to change.”
I felt warmth rush to my face, and without thinking about it, I leaned forward and brushed my fingers through his hair. After days of traveling through the Scraps, the forests, and Aubade, Alexander still managed to look very handsome. My eyes flickered to the blood and dirt staining his clothing, a dark suit of Aubade fashion, augmented with Briar’s dark, furry leather patches and lined with the scarlet fabric from my dress.
A regular prince charming, Lucian drawled.
He meant it sarcastically, but… maybe I was starting to believe it. He’d seemed like a spoiled noble when we first met, but now he was going into battle to stand with us against his father, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how brave he was being.
“Did Lucian just insult me?” Alexander asked, twisting his face in confusion.
I grinned. “He insults you a lot,” I replied.
Because he deserves it, Lucian said.
Alexander looked fascinated. “I can…I can hear him!”
Joy, Lucian replied.
“Is he always that rude?” Alexander asked, a curt frown forming on his lips.
I doubt you’d be in the best of moods if you’d been trapped in a sword either, a female voice drawled. I’ve had my magic stolen for decades now.
Alexander started, prompting a scowl from Eleanor, who was trying to seal his tattoo.
“Who is that?” he asked, looking around. I shook my head, baffled. I’d never heard this demon speak before.
Johanna, the demon replied, her voice like a whisper on the wind. Ice crackled on the ground beneath Dorian, who jumped to his feet. He drew his rapier and looked along the edge, unleashing diamond-bright droplets of water.
“Why’ve you never spoken before?” I asked.
Speaking with mages is dangerous for our kind, Joanna said quietly. I nodded, handing the sword back to Dorian.
“Her name is Johanna,” I said.
Dorian sheathed the rapier again and began drawing the sigil on his own arm, my blood bright against his skin. “She must be very old,” Dorian said absentmindedly, “this sword has been in the Rosewood vault for centuries.”
The pain was barely a pinch this time.
Ever since that blasted Gertrude. What a hideous, miserable creature, Johanna hissed.
Dorian paused. “Eleanor, this demon knew Gertrude,” he said.
“The first Countess of Rosewood?” Eleanor asked, her eyes wide. “Is it true she was burned apart by demon’s fire?”
I daresay she deserved it.
“If she was responsible for enslaving and imprisoning so many of your kin in the vault beneath Rosewood, I daresay she did,” Dorian replied.
Is that an invitation? Johanna purred.
“Do you think you’re the first woman who’s wanted to set me on fire?” Dorian asked.
Viviane joined us and held out her arm. As Dorian drew the sigils, I felt the beginnings of a headache, sharp and persistent. Still, it would be worth it if we could all speak to demons. And once we all could…
My stomach twisted. We’d have to join the fighting. I’d fought battles before, but I’d never been in a full-fledged war. I looked out at the blue sky and the red wildflowers ringing the small lake. It was such a nice day. I wished we could just stay here, go swimming, and camp out under the stars.
My name is Freya, a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.
Viviane threw her hands over her mouth. Her green eyes were wide. “I can hear her!” she exclaimed. “Can—can she hear me?”
Everything you say or think, Freya replied. A white cat curled around her ankles, before jumping into her lap. Viviane’s face reddened. “Everything?” she whispered.<
br />
When you’re as old as I am, there are very few surprising thoughts left to hear, Freya purred. Viviane stood, looking flustered. Her eyes darted nervously towards Sterling, then she climbed to her feet and walked quickly away, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“What was that about?” Alexander asked.
“I have no idea,” I lied, a smile creeping into my lips.
She’s been in the woods too long, Lucian joked, if she’s already thinking of going native.
Jessa joined us and held out her hand.
“Do you need to rest?” Dorian asked. “Wynter?”
I shook my head and smiled. “Let’s keep going.” They weren’t using that much blood, but the sigils were taking a toll. I felt light-headed and relaxed, apart from the tingling pain in my arms and my throbbing temple.
As my friends settled into the grass by the lake, the air was filled with voices and laughter. I watched a butterfly lazily flutter through the broken, marble arch towards a pile of rusted metal in the bushes.
Briar was standing near the lake’s edge, gazing into the depths. When I stood up, I was dizzy, and decided to splash some water on my face. I bent down next to him, my boots sinking into the wet sand, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t,” he said. “There are bodies in the water.”
“They’re just statues,” I said, looking at the broken marble pieces strewn across the bottom. “We saw them last time.”
“No,” Briar said. “They aren’t.”
I looked again, following his finger towards a dark shape half buried in mud. This time I saw the crease of a royal uniform, the gleam of weapons I’d assumed was just junk metal, the pale faces twisted in terror. My heart raced as I stumbled backwards, crawling away from the water on my hands and knees.
***
We followed the trail of bodies through the dark forests. There weren’t many at first. A cluster of soldiers in red and gold, piled in a shallow pit, marked a victory for Aubade. A pyre of melted flesh wearing blue and silver uniforms marked a victory for Reverie.
Briar and Sterling picked up gear from the dead bodies, checking weapons and going through their pockets. Viviane frowned and I met Dorian’s eyes, but he just shrugged. It seemed disrespectful, but I knew it was practical. Maybe mages could afford to leave good gear behind, but in the Scraps nothing went to waste.
