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My hand froze. Violence was no stranger to me. Good hells, I craved it. But in this, I could not find the heady rush of anticipation, the craving for bones and blood and flesh splitting beneath my touch.

There was something about Eeva that remained innocent. The torment in her heart, the clashing desires were enough to drive anyone to madness.

Eeva did not deserve to be slaughtered, not by my hand, but she was a threat and was the fiercest obstacle standing between me and escape.

I drew my arm back. The blow would need to be hard and fast, the strike sure so Eeva did not suffer.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The sound startled me, and I lost my grip on the stone, then spun to look toward the wall that faced the shore. I knew those damn spears. Not possible.

Before the bellows of the ember spears faded, screams and cries fractured the sleeping township of lower Eilifur.

Without pause, I sprinted for the tree near the wall. Wrists still bound, the climb was taxing. Knots in the trunk provided leverage, but by the time I reached the first limb, sweat dripped down the sides of my cheeks and my shoulders burned from the strain.

I managed to leverage one knee over the branch and heave myself onto the thick limb, straddling it.

Crimson sails painted the shoreline. The Ever Ship, with its black hull and sharp spines jutting out like broken bones, fired another round of fiery cinder stones. Behind the royal ship, white hulls and angled sails. It seemed as though every fleet from every noble house had come.

My cousin brought war.

The ground tilted. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Frantically, I gripped the branch, anticipating a fall. It felt like the earth bender king, my queen’s father, tore into the land.

But something about the rolling soil wasn’t right.

I studied each fissure, each scar carving into the rocks. Screams of panic multiplied. Why shouldn’t they? Even my mind told me the earth dissolved beneath us. But there, on the edge, the slightest glimmer in the air caught my attention.

True, my mind told me to flee, but the longer I studied the earth, the more I realized it never sank. I wasn’t truly swaying from a quake in the bedrock.

Part of me wanted to frown, maybe bemoan the notion that she was here, but a greater part could not stop the grin from spreading. Mira’s illusions attacked the mortal clan. Bleeding hells, the woman tossed the whole of the isle into a frenzy.

On the ground, Eeva stirred.

Dark rivers of blood cascaded down the side of her face from the strike to her head. Her fangs remained, and the dark pulpy webs still surrounded her eyes. But when she saw the ground split open, threatening to devour her, she screamed. For the first time since her transformation, I could see the timid, bashful woman who constantly adjusted her spectacles in her countenance.

“Eeva!” I shouted. “Hide. It won’t hurt you if you hide.”

At her first look and realization that I lived, Eeva’s face contorted in a touch of the creature she’d become, like I was a morsel to devour. No, she was still there too, clinging to what frayed bit of control she had left.

“Eeva, hide and take cover! Fight the desire for blood, and save your neck instead.”

The woman wanted to live. She wanted peace and love.

Another illusion took hold, toppling a tree nearby. Eeva ducked, covering her head. With a horrified glance at me, she bolted toward a corner hedge and disappeared in the brambles.

With Eeva hidden, I swung my legs off the tree limb and dangled for a breath before I let go. The ground was farther than anticipated. I cursed when the shock of the landing buckled my legs.

My knee had twisted, but I ignored the ache and sprinted toward the back gate of the garden.

“Mira!” a man’s voice roared. He was nearby. But my blood turned to ice when he spoke again. “Move! Mira, at your back. No!”

47

The Illusionist

After my mother returned, most of the day rushed by in a heady fog.

Maj gave the report of Tait being bound, of the fierce speed of the mortals’ ship, the only way they could’ve outrun us. She explained their words were hard to understand, but since she once spoke in the Old-World tongue, she understood enough that they needed fae or magical blood each turn to make their golden harvest grow.