“But…” I blink, still not ready to accept the fact that she’s real. That she’s here, hours away from the city, days away from where Rook last tracked her and my father. “How did you—”
“Have you been away from us so long you’ve already forgotten how shadow magic works? Honestly, Westlyn. The way your father raised you… It’s a wonder you’ve even managed to feed and bathe yourself without us. Although, judging from the state of your hair, I’m not sure bathing has been a priority—”
“Shadow magic? But you’d have to know my location first. I’m nowhere close to home. I’m not even—”
Make your move…
The words echo ominously.
The man in the street. The phone call.
That’s why he didn’t look to see if there were survivors.
He wasn’t there to help us.
He was there to help coordinate the attack.
“This… this wasn’t an accident,” I stammer.
Eloise lets out a cruel laugh. “Got it all figured out now, have you? Well. Aren’t you a clever girl?”
“Apparently not clever enough.”
“Oh, for Morrigan’s sake. Did you really think you could outrun this forever? Your obligations? Where is your sense of honor, Westlyn? Your family loyalty?”
“You arenofamily of mine.”
“And you are no match for the shadow magic society or for your future husband, who is none too pleased with you.” She holds out her hand toward me and lifts her brows expectantly, as if she might actually shame me into taking it.
As if I’m some wayward little girl who’s spent the last hour hiding from her mother in the woods, but now I’m all tuckered out and ready to go home and deal with the consequences of my bad choices.
“Not on your fucking life.” I finally get to my feet, sucking in a breath of cool air to stave off the nausea. I’m still clutching the briefcase, but if Eloise finds my choice in post-crash accessories odd, she doesn’t mention it.
Just rolls her eyes at my very existence.
Good to know some things never change.
“No more games, girl. You’ve given the Archmage enough trouble with your cut-and-run act.” She clucks her tongue. “Shacking up with fae mobsters.”
“They’re not—”fae, I almost say, but she doesn’t know that. Shecan’tknow that. “Mobsters,” I finish up.
“What would you call a pack of wild fae who prey on the naiveté of a helpless witch? As if the men of shadow and stone could protect you from your destiny—it’s laughable, Westlyn. Truly laughable. All they’ve managed to accomplish is to put themselves on the top of the society’s hit list. I hope you weren’t too…” She flashes a cruel, cutting smile. “…attached.”
Guilt simmers inside, knowing I’ve put them at risk. But I refuse to rise to her bait.
I need to get away from her.
I cast around for a weapon—a rock, a stick—but all I’ve got is Drae’s briefcase.
“Still clinging to hope, are we?” She frowns at me and shakes her head as if even in the moment of my inevitable capture, she’s still disappointed in me. “Time’s up, Westlyn. Come. We have much to discuss, and weeks of lost time to make up for. You’re lucky the Archmage still wants you alive—you havemeto thank for that, of course. But that’s contingent upon your cooperation.”
“You don’t have it. You willneverhave it.” I take a step backward, clutching the briefcase to my chest like a shield, trying to calculate my chances of making a run for it.
Maybe I could lose her in the woods. Find a cave, or…
“Don’t bother,” she says, knowing exactly where my mind has gone. “These woods are nothing but shadow, and I’m—”
I launch the briefcase at her, and her hands fly up to protect her face. In that split second of distraction, I turn and bolt into the woods, not caring that I’ve just lost the only clues my father left me about my life.
