Grabbing her throat with both hands, Gideon squeezed, forcing Cressida to her knees and into the dirt. “If there’s a hell, I hope you burn in it.”
“Go on, then.” Her eyes glittered black as she stared up at him. “Send me to hell.”
His hands tightened.
“I’ll never stop haunting you, Gideon. I will always—”
“Wait!”
Seraphine was stepping off the bridge, coming swiftly toward them, with Antonio on her heels. A white spell flame floatedover their heads, lighting their way in the twilight. Across the whirlpool, Juniper and Harrow blocked access to the bridge. With them stood a dozen witches, forming a wall of defense.
Seraphine was right,he realized.
More and more were defecting. With no way to resurrect Elowyn and Analise, with Cressida at the utter mercy of Gideon, they had far less to lose and were coming to join the line forming between the witch queen and those trying to aid her.
Seraphine crouched next to Cressida; Antonio joined her a few seconds later. In his arms was Rune, and on his back was her leather satchel. He lay Rune carefully down on the other side of Seraphine, then pulled back the satchel’s flap and withdrew a spell book.
The white flame hovering in the air cast an eerie glow over them all.
“Any moment, witches are going to break through that barricade,” Gideon told Seraphine, his hands tightening around Cressida’s throat, choking off her breath. “I need to put this dog down.”
“Not yet.” Seraphine touched his arm. “Trust me.”
So Gideon loosened his grip on the witch queen’s neck.
Seraphine seized the knife sheathed at Rune’s leg while Antonio opened the spell book to a page marked with a ribbon, holding it up for her to read.
Catching sight of the spell, Cressida laughed.
“AnArcana? We both know you won’t risk corrupting yourself, Seraphine.”
Gideon saw the movement too late: Cressida snatching her moon-curved casting knife and lunging for the witch beside her.
It was Antonio who grabbed her wrist, holding her back.
“Little queen,” laughed Seraphine, “I am incorruptible.”
Cressida frowned, her gaze flickering over Seraphine’s face.
“My name isWisdom.” Her voice rang like a drawn blade. “And I’ve waited a long time for this.”
The witch queen’s face paled, and she tried to rise. Gideon slammed her down, pinning her beneath his knees, his hands tightening around her throat.
Seraphine… is Wisdom? The Ancient?
She didn’t look like a being who’d created the world. She looked like a mortal woman, barely older than twenty.
Wisdom’s dark eyes flickered, then glowed bright white as she sliced Cressida’s arm, Antonio holding it steady. The blood gushed, thick and red, and Wisdom dipped her fingers in the stream. She used it to draw seven spellmarks across Rune’s lifeless body: on each of her open palms, at the base of her throat, across her lips and forehead, and then, after instructing Antonio to take off Rune’s boots, she drew two more on the soles of her feet.
When she finished, a coppery smell bled through the air, mingling with something else. Something older than these mountains. Something far more primal than the murderous currents crashing around them.
Magic.
Ancient and powerful.
Wisdom turned to the witch queen trapped beneath Gideon, with no hope of escape. Antonio pinned Cressida’s arms to the ground above her head, allowing Gideon to let go of her throat and lean back, restraining only her lower body. Cressida writhed and squirmed, but they held her fast.
With Rune’s knife in both her hands, the Ancient lifted the blade high in the air.
