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“That’s why they were able to take you. They found your fear.”

“And what, pray, was it?”

“Your pride. You couldn’t believe you might have some of the same qualities as the creatures themselves.”

“I am not like them. I am their hope. I sustain them.”

“No. You tell yourself that. That’s why Circe told me to search my dark corners. So I wouldn’t be caught off guard.”

Circe laughs, a splintered cackle that finds a way under my skin.

“And what about you, Gemma?” Eugenia purrs. “Have you ‘searched’ yourself, as you say?”

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve made mistakes,” I say, my voice growing stronger, my fingers feeling for the dagger again. “But I’ve done good, too.”

“And yet, you’re still alone. All that trying and still you stand apart, watching from the other side of the glass. Afraid to have what you truly want because what if it’s not enough after all? What if you get it and you still feel alone and apart? So much better to wrap yourself up in the longing. The yearning. The restlessness. Poor Gemma. She doesn’t quite fit, does she? Poor Gemma—all alone.”

It’s as if she’s delivered a blow to my heart. My hand falters. “I—I…”

“Gemma, you’re not alone,” Circe gasps, and my hand touches metal.

“No. I’m not. I’m like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world. I’m flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I’m still me.” I’ve got it now. Sure and strong in my grip. “I see through you. I see the truth.”

I spring to my feet, and suddenly, the illusion Eugenia has crafted is broken. I see the battlefield awash in blood and fighting. Hear the clang of steel against steel, the cries of vengeance, of fear, of principle and power lust, of desperation, of pure valor and unmerciful righteousness—all of it blurring into one terrible roar that drowns out every voice, every heart, every hope.

“Well done, Gemma,” Eugenia says. “You’re very powerful, indeed. Pity you won’t live long enough to make more of those glorious mistakes.”

I raise the dagger. “Right. Let’s end this properly.”

The tree’s many arms stretch and groan. Its surface roils with those devoured souls. I try to see clearly, but this is no illusion. This is terrifyingly real, and I fall back as the tree rises taller, looming over me.

“Gemma, do it,” Circe moans in agony.

I summon every bit of magic I’ve got, channeling it into the dagger. “I free the souls trapped here! You are released!”

I close my eyes and try to plunge the dagger into the tree. One of the branches knocks it from my hand. With a gasp, I watch it drop below. The tree shrieks and howls, calling the attention of every person on the battlefield.

“Her blood must fall!” the tree commands.

“Gemma!” Kartik calls, and I hear the alarm in his voice.

Amar comes for me. He spurs his horse forward, picking up speed. I scramble loose of the tree’s grip and race for the dagger, just out of reach. For a moment, time slows. The roar of battle dims to a hum. There is only the sound of hoofbeats matching the pounding throb of my blood in my ears. I see Kartik running after his brother with a fierce determination in his eyes. And then the world spins into time.

The roots trip me. I fall to the ground. Gasping, I crawl toward the dagger, but Amar is quicker.

“No!” Kartik shouts, and then I feel a sharp pain in my side. When I look down, the dagger is there and my blood spreads across my white blouse in a widening stain.

“Gemma!” Felicity screams. I see her running toward me with Ann just behind.

I stagger forward, and when I reach the tree, I pull the dagger from my side with an anguished cry.

“I…release…these souls,” I repeat in a whisper.

I plunge the dagger into the tree. It screams in pain, and the souls slip from its skin, pushing out of the branches like leaves of fire, and then they are gone.

My eyes flutter. The land goes wavy. My body trembles till I cannot stop it. I’m caught in the tree’s embrace. And the last thing I hear as I fall against the cradle of the branches is Kartik shouting my name.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

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