She must’ve realized what was happening, and now she’s shielding her mind from me—another shadow magic trick.
“What the fuck iswrongwith you?” I whisper, the magic inside me receding, leaving nothing but horror in its wake. “That’swhat you’re working for? A world where—”
Her fist rockets toward me, glancing off my jaw.
Eloise uses the distraction to shove me off her. I land on my back, jaw throbbing. Stars dance before my eyes. My mouth fills with the coppery taste of blood.
Damn it, girl. Get up. Get up and fight!
I think of the runes again. The dagger. The Tower card and the verse… but I’m totally tapped out. The headache is back with a vengeance, my limbs trembling with exertion.
Eloise can’t be fairing much better, though. I hear her wheezing as she struggles to her feet.
Her magic must be running on fumes, too, or she would’ve nailed me by now—my temporary power surge notwithstanding.
I force myself to stand on wobbly legs. I’ve just convinced myself to make another break for it when a bolt of harsh yellow magic splits the darkness before us. Four cloaked mages spill out of the shadows.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Language, Westlyn.” Eloise is on her feet again, too, casually picking leaves from her hair. To the mages, she says, “I gave her the chance to come willingly. She refused. No need to be gentle, but do keep her alive.”
The mages surround me. Two of them grab my arms, the other two my legs, rough hands jerking me right off the ground.
“Let me go!” I scream and kick and buck with the last of my strength, but their hold is too fierce. Brutishly, they carry me back to the scene of the crash, Eloise sauntering ahead of us like a fabled queen leading her faithful guards. I’m sure she’s got a car waiting further up the road—I’m not a shadow mage, so they can’t portal me through the shadows.
For the first time since I escaped my doomed wedding, a sense of true dread stabs my gut.
I try again to kick free, but it’s useless. I’m exhausted. My vision is swimming. I’ve got four shadow mages and my evil bitch stepmother taking me prisoner.
I have no idea if my father is involved. If he knows what his wife is doing to me. If he even cares.
My thoughts drift again to Draegan.
He’ll be here. He’s always here when I need him. He’s fine. Everything’s fine…
“Stop mumbling, girl.” One of the mages tightens his grip, digging into my arm.
“Struggle all you want,” Eloise calls over her shoulder. “You can’t stop this any more than you can read a Tarot card or cast a spell. Your only job now is to help ensure everything therestof us have worked for comes to pass.”
“I willdiebefore I help you,” I hiss.
She doesn’t even spare me another glance. Just waves her hand around like she’s shooing a fly. “Enough, Westlyn. It’s been a long night. No need to add your dramatics to the—”
Her words evaporate as a disturbance overhead has everyone glancing skyward.
I follow their worried gazes, and my heart soars.
My sweet ravens—along with several dozen of their friends—swoop down en masse from the treetops.
“Not again with these fuckingbirds!” Eloise frantically swats the air as Lucinda dives for her face. My girl gets in a good gouge to the bitch’s cheek before taking off again, only to circle back for another attack.
The mages drop me on my ass, turning their attention to the swarm that’s rapidly descending, sharp beaks and talons bared.
But those shadow mage assholes are about to havemuchbigger problems than my feathered friends.
Behind them, a dark figure rises from the shadows—a colossal winged beast wreathed in moonlight, fangs and claws glinting like knives, those unmistakable storm-ravaged eyes blazing with a thirst for blood.
Mage blood.
