Witches.
Catarina. At least a dozen others.
No one sees them but me. They float in silently, their brooms connecting to form a pentagram. Their wands circling in complex patterns. At first, I can’t glean what they’re doing. I lose sight of them on occasion as warriors step on top of and over me in battle.
Then I feel it.
Wind.
It drives straight down and blows out, sending a plume of grit gusting over me.
Screams. Shouts. A flash of silver as an elf flies over me like an oversized kite. I have to squint and turn my head to breathe. When I do, I find two violet eyes squinting back at me. Jaqual is still alive, flattened to the bloodstained earth, clinging to it to keep from blowing away.
It goes on and on until all the silver is gone and I see nothing but red and black around me.
At once, the wind stops. Boots land between us. Catarina reaches down and lifts Jaqual’s head, offering him hercanteen. Their eyes meet, and something passes between them, wordless but palpable. Jaqual’s eyes widen.
Catarina releases him and moves to my side, lifting my head and bringing the same canteen to my lips. I cough at the putrid flavor but manage to keep it down. She releases my head.
“Hurry up and heal,” she says through her teeth. “We won’t be able to hold them for long.”
38
Unexpected Guest
Eloise
My transition from my battle form to my corps or human-like form is quick but effortless. I don’t even notice I’m changing at first, not until the crown on my head suddenly feels heavy and cumbersome. I make my way through the halls of Blackspire with my daggers in my hands, ready to kill. Only, I never have to use them. Anyone who sees me, runs.
Good. I will need all my energy to pull Phantom’s bones together and return my ancestors to the dragon’s flesh. The faster my anchor is in place again, the faster I can rejoin the battle. I turn the corner into the grand foyer.
Rays of purple light rise up in front of me, blocking my path. Instinctively, I lift an arm to shield my eyes. What is this magic? An elf trap?
“Eloise?”
I blink rapidly, allowing my vision to adjust. My bestfriend stands in the center of the key symbol, looking wildly determined as she takes in the details of the room. Dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, she could easily fit in with the rebels. “Maeve!” I sheathe my daggers and rush into her arms.
“I came to help. I told you I would. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Been busy,” I say, gesturing at the blood on my clothes and the crown on my head. “How did you know to come?”
“The clock in the parlor started ticking again. When you didn’t show up in the attic, I suspected it was time. The vial of blood you left me worked like a charm, by the way. Brought me straight to you.”
“Thanks for using it.” I try to hand her one of my daggers, but she doesn’t take it. “Beyond that door is a war zone. It’s a mess out there. Goddess, I need to find Damien.” A pang of worry zings through me, and I pray he’s okay.
“Dead bodies?” Maeve wrinkles her nose.
I nod solemnly. “Fields soaked with blood. And I have no magic. I’m going to have to pull my dragon back together before I can anchor.” I hold out the dagger again. “Take this. For protection.”
She sniffs. “I don’t need that, Eloise. You keep it. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. It’s not safe.” I can hear the battle raging beyond the entrance to the castle. “At least stay behind me.”
She pushes her thick, dark glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I love you, Eloise, but sometimes you’re a real ditz.”
“Huh?”
“I was a witch before you even knew magic existed.”Her bright-red lips spread wide. “There are limits to what I can do on my own, but I’m certainly not helpless.”
