I feel its power calling to me now, touching the edges of something inside me. Searching for a magic it once knew, but can no longer find.
I’m trembling in the cheap, skimpy dress Eloise provided, but it’s not fear or cold that’s got me shaking like the autumn leaves in the orchard now.
It’sfury.
Fury at Verrick for thinking he has any sort of claim on me. On the magic inside me he’s locked up with some terrible spell.
Fury at Eloise for her role in my mother’s murder, for using Brian, for orchestrating the plot to turn me into a demon prince’s slave.
Fury at Brian for not trusting me enough to let me in on all the secrets. For not allowing us to build a real relationship before it was too late.
Fury at my mother for dying, as ridiculous as that is.
But mostly, I’m furious with myself.
I promised my gargoyles I’d find a way to break their curse. But if I can’t figure out an escape plan in the next few minutes, the only thing I’m going to break is their hearts.
The sun set a couple of hours ago. They’re certainly awake by now, and yet the fact that they’re not here yet tells me they don’t know where I am.
They probably think I’m dead. And if not, they’ll be out of their minds with worry. Even if they somehow figure out who took me and where I am, there’s no way they’ll be able to stop this ceremony before the dark deed is done.
It’s too late for that.
Once again, I find myself standing at the altar and wishing for a rescue.
But fuck that.
This time? There are no gargoyles hiding in the bell tower, waiting to answer my pleas.
This time, I’m truly on my own.
But this time, I’m no longer that same scared, powerless witch who cowered at the feet of evil all those weeks ago.
Ignoring the greedy, sharp-eyed mages staring up at me from the pews, I close my eyes and try again to reach for my magic.
Come on. You’re there. I know you’re in there. Answer me. Come to me…
No luck. Not so much as a flicker.
Verrick made sure of that.
I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. I have to trust myself. I have to trust this magic inside me, because wherever it came from—witches, dark fae, destiny, some otherworldly force I can’t even begin to contemplate—it’s mine. It’s real.
And I’ve been waiting my whole life to unleash it.
Heartbeat steady once more, I open my eyes to find Eloise emerging from the sacristy, Brian lumbering behind her, chained and obviously drugged. His movements are even more sluggish now, his head lolling on his neck as if he can barely hold it up. Blood leaks from a fresh gash down the side of his face, dripping onto his already ruined shirt. His dotingwifeguides him to the front pew and he takes a seat at her command, just like he did the night of my first sham wedding.
We lock eyes for the briefest instant. This time, he doesn’t look away in shame.
It feels like a goodbye. Like he’s going to die tonight, too.
“If you’re waiting for your birds to swoop in and save you, you can forget it.” Eloise waltzes up to the altar, fluffing her hair as she does so, her smugness so huge it may as well have its own dress. “Not even your monsters can help you tonight, Westlyn.”
“The only monsters here are you and your secret society of wannabe minions,” I reply. Then, leaning as close as I dare and forcing a smug smile of my own, “And you have no idea who you’re trifling with tonight,demoness.”
She blanches. It’s only for a second, but I see it. Hesitation in her eyes. The tiniest flicker of fear.
A murmur ripples through the crowd of mages, and I look over their dark heads to see a pair of well-dressed guests slowly sauntering down the aisle. The woman is dressed in a blood red gown overlaid at the bodice with sheer black lace, the elegant satin skirt hugging her figure and spilling into a long train behind her. Her escort is dapper in a cream-colored ceremonial robe, the edges trimmed in gold.
