How I wish I could take that blame from her shoulders. Hell, I’ve been fearing this fate for a long time now. The signs were there—the stiff wings, the aching back, the tight lungs.
Every night, it was taking me longer and longer to awaken from my stone slumber—longer than the others. Those aren’t normal symptoms for immortal beings. I was very likely already turning, cell by cell.
Whether it was an attack from Verrick or merely crossing through the portal into Wintermoon, the process just accelerated.
Short of obliterating the curse, she couldn’t have done anything to stop it.
But even if I could speak, she wouldn’t trust those words. She’s carrying the weight of our curse almost as much as Draegan is.
I worry it’s going to destroy them both.
Tatiana rises to her feet, then comes to stand at my side, brushing her fingertips over my arm. Her touch is as grounding and comforting as ever.
“The gargoyles are under a powerful curse,” she says. “Dark and terrible, crafted with fae and demon magic both. This tragedy was bound to happen one way or the other. The visions in your dreams may have given you glimpses, just as any divination method might—Tarot, pathworking, even reading the tea leaves. But destiny is never fixed. We always have choices.”
“I guess that’s good.” West sighs, gazing into her teacup. “Because in my dreams? Verrick destroys us all.”
The flames in the fireplace hiss and pop, and the witches fall silent, finishing their tea and gazing into their mugs. Searching for clues about their destinies, perhaps.
But I don’t need to read the tea leaves to knowmydestiny.
The wild, Cerridwen witch and dark-fae princess of Wintermoon seated beside me? She sealed my fate the moment she walked into my library with her ravens, smiled at all my books, and stole my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
AUGUSTINE
Silence blankets the inn, a quiet restlessness settling into the cracks and crevices as we try to get used to our new accommodations and cobble together a few half-baked plans.
One to find Verrick and put a sword through his heart.
One to hunt down the Archmage and Eloise, and eliminate them from the chessboard too.
One to find Zorakkov and the demonic legions, and send those dickheads straight back to hell.
And finally, one to get our asses back home to the human realm.
Oh, and did I mention we need to stay alive for all this? That’s kind of important, too.
Yeah. Talk about a stacked deck.
But of all the new worries dropped onto our proverbial doorstep since last night, the one that’s got me the most twisted up inside is Westlyn.
After her fireside meeting with the witches tonight, she’s barely spoken. When Fleur and Laney volunteered to put fresh linens on the beds upstairs and set up rooms so everyone could get some sleep, West declined, preferring to remain on the sofa where she could keep an eye on Rook.
Hours have passed, and the elder witches have long since retired. But my witchling remains, steadfast in her loyalty, fighting sleep with strong tea and even stronger herbs she found in the kitchens.
Jude, Draegan, and I have been trading off shifts keeping watch outside, doing regular flyovers to scan for threats. The two of them are out there now, circling, but I wanted to come check on our girl.
Some part of me was hoping she’d decided to go upstairs and get some rest after all, but…
No such luck.
I get the sense she’s not in the mood for conversation, so I grab a piece of charcoal and some old parchment I found behind the bar, and take a seat in one of the worn chairs in front of her.
“Do you mind if I sit by the fire with you?” I ask softly.
West shakes her head and smiles, but doesn’t say anything else.
