Page 51 of She Who Holds My Wrath

My arms fold across my chest, nails digging into my sleeves as I fight the urge to snap at him properly. Aran’s smirk falters. Just a little. His eyes flicker over my face, reading the shift in my mood with uncomfortable accuracy. The easy confidence drains from his posture, replaced by something far more cautious. Ah, he knows he’s in my bad books.

“I technically didn’t lie,” he says carefully, like he’s navigating a minefield and I’m the ticking bomb waiting to be set off. “You never asked.”

That does not help. In the freaking slightest. My glare sharpens. “That’s not the defence you think it is, Aran.”

He exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s a rare tell that he’s genuinely uneasy. “Daisy⁠—”

I don’t let him finish. “We leave within the hour,” I cut in, my voice flat and final. No room for argument. No room for apologies I actually don’t want to hear right now. Because if I start to unpack this, I might start asking questions neither of us are ready to answer.

Velentha nods and rises, already in motion as she tries to dispel the rising tension. “We’ll meet in the North Tower; it has a warded chamber I can tune to the leylines.”

Maelkar is all business now, shadows slicking into armour. “I’ll fetch Corin and three of his least incompetent friends to accompany us.”

Lucifer catches his wrist as he passes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he murmurs.

Maelkar grins slowly before leaning in for another kiss. “So… nothing is off the table?”

“Get out.” Aran groans.

The chamber in the North tower is freezing. Runes bloom under Velentha’s hands—sharp, elegant lines that look ancient and menacing. The air around us tastes of iron and old magic.

“Stand there,” she tells me, pointing to the inner ring. “Maelkar, beside her. Guards, just within the second circle. If it feels like your bones are humming, good. If it feels like your bones are melting, say something.” I try and keep my expression smooth and unbothered, but I can’t lie… that last line has goosebumps erupting over my flesh.

Lucifer leans in the doorway, arms folded, trying to look bored but looking more like he’s filled with worry. Aran takes his place just outside the carvings. He’s silent, his body tight with tension I want to ease, but I can’t. I know he wants to come with me, to be by my side. But he’s essentially powerless, and if this does go wrong, he’s needed here, and not with me.

Velentha holds Kaelith’s seal in one palm. With the other, she draws a slender blade across the inside of her forearm. Bright blue blood wells, not red, definitely not mortal. She lets three heavy drops fall into the centre of the pathway etched into stone with Særathi runes. The blood hits, and the lines ignite with pale light flowing through them, the circles bursting with energy around us.

Her voice shifts into something older and layered as she speaks, placing her hands to the stone flooring. “By covenant older than doors, older than crowns: light to light, path to path. By blood of sovereign, by token of realm—hear me. Thread between the ash-bound and the aurora. Open.” I can tell it’s a rough translation. She struggled hard to move the words of the Særathi to English, but it seems to be working.

The seal’s opaline gleam fractures as the wax warms, scent of pine and frost unfurling around the air. The stones under my feet vibrate and I gasp. Between Velentha’s hands, a shimmer appears. A seam in reality—thin, bright as dawn. It widens and shifts reluctantly to the height of a door.

Beyond it: night. Not Hell’s night. A sky stitched with green and violet silk, auroras rippling like living rivers. Snow breathes cold onto my face, and the air smells like pine and starlight.

My heart stutters, a soft gasp escaping my lips. It worked. “Aurora’s Veil.”

“It’s anchored,” Velentha whispers, sweat beading her brow.

I step forward and Corin, with the three soldiers, tighten formation with Maelkar beside me.

Aran catches my wrist, just for a second. His thumb brushes my pulse as he swallows. “Come back.”

“I will,” I whisper. “But if this is a trap⁠—”

“—You’ll set them all on fire,” he says, a ghost of a smile appearing for just a moment.

“Count on it,” I breathe.

Velentha’s voice dips, straining. “Daisy—once you cross, do not lose your anchor. Remember where you land, you’ll see the runes where your feet first touch. When you’re ready to return, find the markings, cut your palm and speak: By star and ash, I am sovereign to return. Light to light, path to path. The rest will answer you. It will take from you, so be ready.”

The seam flickers at the same time as she winces. “Go. Now.”

I nod, adjust the dagger at my thigh, and step towards the rippling light. A jolt shimmers through the room, so subtle I almost miss it. Velentha’s head jerks, eyes going wide, silver irises shimmering with alarm.

“Wait—” she gasps, lurching forwards with her hand shooting out as if to catch me. “Daisy, don’t—” But my boot crosses the threshold at the same time, and the world tilts. It’s cold, bright, and not at all home. I’m through. Though now, I feel like I shouldn’t be.

Chapter 22

DAISY