Page 118 of The Witch Queen

“Oh, Krantz was a real person. It was him who you imprisoned, who attacked you multiple times. The only time I impersonated him was the brief little conversation I had with Hawthorne at the estate. I needed to be sure you got Nemesia’s letter, and I wanted to check in on your mating bond myself. Krantz and I had a deal that if he killed you, I’d make him ruler of Thayaria. Of course, I had no intention of getting rid of you, at least not until you accepted the bond, but it gave you and Hawthorne a common enemy. I should thank you for killing the rat. He was becoming a problem for me. Getting too wrapped up in his own ego.”

The room spins around me as my magic expenditure from earlier and the sheer shock of what’s happening catch up to me. Too much information is being revealed to me, when all I can focus on is Thorne. He’s trapped by his father, who’s revealed his intentions to steal him away from me. Everything in the room fades around me as I stare at my mate, mind frantically reeling for any plan that will save him. Thorne struggles against his bindings, trying desperately to get free. I sink to my knees in horror and despair.

Nemesia appears at my side and lifts me from the ground with steady hands. It’s like the moment at the Battle of Moormyr, when she had helped me stand to face Mazus. Three hundred years later, we’re still locked in a battle we can’t win, once again at Mazus’s mercy. I desperately want to collapse, curl in on myself, and sob. But I don’t. I pull my shoulders back and squeeze Nemesia’s hand once, the only apology I can offer her right now for everything I put her through. I instantly recognize her brand of powerful plant magic, trying to penetrate the invisible wall between us and Thorne, but it doesn’t work.

“I can assure you, General, this is not a fight you’ll win,” Mazus says to Nemesia, who snarls at him with her own grief-laced fury.

“So, it was you who gave them the letter stolen from my room? How did you even enter Thayaria?” Nemesia asks, confirming what she’d told me. I’ll have so much shame to unpack later, but right now I can’t think of anything except Thorne, can’t bring my thoughts to wander anywhere but my trapped mate and how I’m going to save him.

Mazus only shrugs. “I hoped that by convincing Laurel you betrayed her, it would push her into Thorne’s arms. From what I hear, it worked. And as forhow, let’s just say only the tiniest drop of blood can unlock many doors that once seemed sealed shut.”

“If you do this, if you take him, it meanswar,” I snarl with the aether-voice, but Mazus is unaffected. I lock that information away for later, unable to examine it now.

Mazus only laughs at me. “Oh, you stupid female.The war never ended. I just took my time between battles, honing my strategy until it was perfect. I thought I needed you, but turns out, I had the solution all along. I just needed the mating bond to officially snap into place so I could swap your blood for his.”

“But you didn’t plan for me to escape with your books. You can take him, but we still have the histories,” Nemesia hisses. This time, Mazus practically cackles, the infernal sound echoing hollowly through the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as tears of laughter gather in his eyes.

“This is why we don’t allow females into positions of power in Velmara. You’re so feebleminded. Iletyou escape.Withthe books. Last I had heard from Admon, these two idiots hadn’t accepted the mating bond yet. I needed you to come back with the books to provide the same information Admon already had to protect his cover, and I hoped the presence of her best friend would help Laurel accept Thorne.”

Nemesia stills, predatory gaze focused on Mazus. “And Genevieve?” she asks, a quiet intensity in her voice.

His eyes light with menacing delight. “She didn’t betray you, or at least not on purpose. We gave her a truth serum that forced her to reveal everything. I needed to be certain before you left that you’d made the right connections.”

“But… you… youkilledher,” Nemesia chokes out, her arms circling her own waist. The move is vulnerable, heartbreaking, and something I’ve never seen my stalwart friend do. Mazus only shrugs.

“I didn’t care whether she lived or died, really. I would’ve been happy sending her back here with you. But her uncle had tired of her. It was a convenient excuse for him to do something he’s wanted to do for a century but couldn’t act on out of propriety. Your little relationship allowed him to kill her and save face with the many Kalmeera relatives he has.” Nemesia drops to the ground, completely defeated, her eyes staring off into nothing. Once again, there’s no one left to save me and my kingdom. I repeat the mantra I’ve repeated to myself nearly every day for three hundred years.

You are the last defense against Mazus.There is no one coming to save you.You must always save yourself.

I grind my teeth, strengthening my resolve and amending that mantra. He will not get away with this.

He will not take Thorne.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the nexus of four leylines that meet under the palace. I unstopper my connection to the aether, like I did only hours ago when battling Krantz. But this time, instead of just letting the aether flow into me, Ipullon the current as hard as I can, absorbing every drop of the life blood of the world into my body. I shake with the effort of holding that much power at once without releasing it, and my brow heats. When I open my eyes, I’m glowing as brightly as I had when I ingested the thayar concentrate, and this time with no magical boost.

There’s a hunger in Mazus’s eyes, unbridled lust for my power. Despite the similarities between him and Thorne—the same eyes, the same jaw, the same nose—Mazus possesses none of Thorne’s warmth or charisma. With a roar that somehow reverberates with the aether-voice, I hurl every bit of magic I possess at the wall keeping me from my mate, my will entirely focused on freeing Thorne. I let aether run into and out of me, becoming my own leyline. The world seems to bend around me, and now I’m no longer pulling aether, but it’s still being forced into me in a torrential surge. I lose control over it, and now all I can do is exist while magic courses through me. My eyes sting, my vision blurs. I vaguely hear screaming, and I think it’s Nemesia begging me to stop. Or maybe it’s Fionn. The gentle and soothing murmur of Admon washes over my awareness, and it only drives me forward. Thethinginside of me that has briefly opened its eyes on a few occasions now wakes up in a furious rage. Whatever has made me feel likemorethan myself not only blinks its eyes but completely overtakes me.

Ibecomethe aether, and my consciousness rises out of my body. Everything goes quiet and still, and I nearly sigh in relief at the calm that settles over me. I float over the room, surveying the scene with detached observation. Laurel—me—looks so incredibly broken. So does Nemesia. My spectral gaze finds Thorne, still fighting like hell to free himself of the bonds that won’t break, not without our blood. I swoop down to caress his face, even in this liminal state feeling the soul-deep thread that binds us. His nostrils flare, like he can sense me.

“I’ll be okay,” he whispers, or maybe thinks, since his mouth is still gagged with Mazus’s vile substance. I’m not sure how it works in this form. “Let me go. You’re killing yourself.” I don’t want to let go, would rather stay here by his side in my final moments than return to my body and face a reality where he’s gone. I know what being in this state is doing to me, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Live to fight another day, witchling. Please,” Thorne begs. The raw ache in his voice—his thoughts?—slams me back into my body, and the chaos and noise of the room erupts around me.

Once I’m corporeal again, the desire to let go of the aether fills me, but I can’t break free of it. It continues to surge through me, unrestrained. My palms are sweaty, and I slip in and out of consciousness. Thorne’s words repeat through my mind.Live to fight another day, witchling.Live.With an otherworldly and determined roar, I find the tap on my magic and slam it shut, hurling every bit of aether that remains in my body at Mazus and his wall, before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Despite knowing what’s inevitable, I look up at the invisible wall that shimmers with Mazus’s dark magic, hoping that it will drop. The barrier wavers for a moment, but holds, and I deflate.

Mazus laughs, a deranged sound that makes his eyes flash yellow again, as tears stream down my face. I leap up and run at the barrier, getting hurled back, but I don’t stop. I’m not ready to accept defeat, not ready to accept what I know is going to happen. I keep running at it over and over again, screaming, shrieking, while Mazus looks on with euphoria.

Eventually, Nemesia, Fionn, and Carex restrain me. It takes their combined strength to hold me back, and even then, I blast them away from me with a force of magic that flings them to opposite corners of the room. A quiet voice whispers that I should check if my friends are okay, but I ignore it, too consumed with terror at losing my mate. Thorne thrashes in his bindings, clearly using every bit of strength he possesses to free himself, despite the words he whispered to me when I was in his mind.

“I tire of this pitiful display of affection. We’re done here. Enjoy losing your mind,” Mazus jeers.

I panic, remembering just two nights ago, when Thorne had professed his love for me, and I hadn’t said it back, even though I knew I felt it. Even though my aether-heart had screamed at me to tell him, to let down that final wall to this brilliant, beautiful male, I had remained silent. And at the festival, I planned to give him that ring and tell him then, but my words had failed me. Just hours ago, I wanted to whisper it to him in the quiet moments we had after the battle with Krantz, but decided to wait until there was moretime.

And now my time has run out.

Thorne peeled away the calloused exterior I’ve worn for so long—too long—revealing a joyful, confident, compassionate female beneath, and I was too cowardly to give him those final, all-important words. I collapse, grief and rage washing over me in equal measure. I’m sobbing now, a black hole, everything I am caving in. My eyes meet Thorne’s one last time.

“I love you,” I whisper.

But he’s gone before the words make it out of my lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I scream to the void, because Thorne is gone, and he can’t hear me.