Page 311 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

My stomach tied itself into a knot. “What lies to the south of Grayshell?”

“Mountains—towering, eternally snow-capped mountains despite the forever-spring of Grayshell.”

Nodding, I said, “So, more than likely, the thicket butts up against them.”

“Yes.”

“We cut through one ward only to traverse at least one other.”

“Yes.”

“May the Seven Sisters guide us.”

“Indeed.”

I swallowed hard and fell in step with Aren as we followed Jason down the narrow path between looming walls of darkness.

At least an hour passed before the men came to an abrupt halt. Aren passed around a canteen of water while Jason paced in uneasy lines, the dark magic clearly grating on more than just me despite my shadows insisting no being dwelled within the brambles.

“Here,” Aren said to Brody, swinging his bag off his shoulder. He reached in until the maw swallowed his arm in its entirety, shuffling things around. Judging by the sound of metal clinking and items falling, they’d enchanted the thing to pull possessions from some kind of in-between.

At last, Brody withdrew… a pole?

Feet of slender silver pole emerged, and I watched, transfixed, as he summoned forth a flag—black and gold, with the Grayshell crest emblazoned across it.

With the force of his magic, Brody plunged the pole into the iridescent ground, sending a rainbow rippling beneath our feet.

Aren’s hard eyes were trained on my face when I looked at him.

“To mark our entrance.”

“Why?”

“Because these are Koa’s wards, and God only knows what tricks we’ll encounter within them.” Aren’s hands lit with fire, and he burned a path through the brambles before waving us forward. Jason—now in human form—prowled up to his side as he yanked a shirt on, eyes shifting, trained on the sharp branches above. Rika and I went next, with Brody at our back. Within seconds, the dead plants shifted and creaked, and the entryway sealed shut behind us. A shiver rocked through me, Rika’s hand snapping out to grab mine as I turned to find Aren glowering back at the wall of branches, his firelight casting harsh shadows across the smooth planes of his face.

Without a word, we followed him into the mentalist’s lair, only to halt just as abruptly when the magic descended. A voice I’d know anywhere echoed through the shadows. “Hello, sweetheart.”

SIXTY-ONE

THE LABYRINTH

AREN

Half a dozen steps into the thorn-riddled labyrinth, the silence had me turning. Mags and Rika stood frozen—wide-eyed, lips parted. Brody reached for Rika, but I was already moving.

Because I knew that pained glaze.

“Shields!” I barked. “Girls, shields up now!”

Mags shook her head, backing away until she collided with Brody’s broad chest. I reached out, scooping her stunned face into my palm and sweeping my thumb over her cheek. Her chest rose and fell too fast, and beneath the glow of the flame in my other hand, her pupils were blown wide with terror.

“Look at me, baby.” She did, shakily, but the pinch in her brow and jagged breaths said she didn’t trust what she saw. “Shields up, now. This is the mentalist’s ward—this place will be designed to scramble our minds.”

She blinked. Once, twice, three times before sucking down a deep breath. “He… I… Bellamy?”

I shook my head vehemently. “An illusion, that’s all. Eyes on me, little dove.” When she complied, silver lined the rims of her eyes. “It wasn’t real. If your shields slip, I’d wager Koa left nightmares woven into the wards—but your mind will concoct them, just like Moros’ magic. Their gifts manipulate the mind until it crafts whatever will debilitate the prey. But you’re not prey.”

Shakily, Mags shook her head. “Never again.”