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"Let me go!" she shouted, fighting against Jaro's hold, her eyes burning as she stared at her mate inside the mirror.
It was no ordinary mirror, she knew. With the saints at play in the world, the impossible was now possible, and their magic could doanything. Had the dark saint done this to her Ark? Had she taken him?
Maia slashed up with her hand, cool silver light glowing under her skin as more petals tumbled from her fingers. There were lines she wasn't supposed to cross, but her mate was hurt on the other side of this mirror, and those black, robe-draped figures were circling his body.
"How did he get inside there?" Kheir demanded, staring at the mirror with Az beside him. "What magic is this?"
"Nothing I've seen before," Azrail sighed. "We'll get him out, Maia."
She'd get him out herself. She was the new Iron Dove, the saint of life, and she had Sephanae by her side to show her how to save him.
So she swallowed the lump in her throat and dared to touch the arm Jaro had banded across her middle, a paltry apology as she reached for a song and silently let it tremble off her tongue.
She felt sick as she let the aria carry her into the ringing silence of Jaro’s mind, just far enough to plant,you're going to release Maia now.She didn't dare go any further, didn't want to see any of his memories, those hateful hours he'd spent with her cousin.
Maia jerked out of his mind clumsily, afraid and sick, and lurched forward when his arm dropped from her waist. She was off balance and nauseated, choking on disgust for Yeven, for herself, but she remembered how Sephanae had guided her through the walls of the Delakore palace and pulled a film of magic over her body.
It was easier than before—far too easy. Proof of how much her magic had grown. She wasn't sure if that should have scared her, but she was too sickened by what she'd done to Jaro to think, so she just leapt at the wall.
Her mates shouted when she vanished, and Maia shut out their sudden fear—icy and deep—as she slammed into a pool of freezing water. Not a solid mirror, but cold magic, a pool that leached all the warmth and colour from her skin.
Breathe, Sephanae commanded.It's not water; it's power, and you are made of it.
That was worrying. Cool premonition skated down Maia's spine, but she didn't have a choice; she dragged in a breath on instinct, filling her lungs with tingling power just as the tight clasp of the mirror fell away.
Pain cracked up her wrists and knees as she landed, and Maia groaned, rolling onto her side. A disgusting, noxious scent stuffed up her nose and coated her tongue, like she'd landed in a graveyard of fish bones. Maia gagged as she stared up at the silver sky—
And screamed at the black shapes flying above her.
They weren't robed figures like she'd thought on the other side of the mirror. They were birds, as big as any person, with feathers longer than Maia's hair in the purest onyx. They were like the firebirds in old saint tales, but made of shadow and ink instead of flame and sunlight.
Were they in the chasm? Would these birds drain their life until they were carrion?
"Ark," Maia rasped, rolling onto her front and gritting her teeth against pain that flashed up her knees. She spotted him a few paces away, curled up and unmoving. "I'm here. I'm here, Arkie."
She crawled on aching legs until she reached her mate, dragging dry, rancid air into her lungs when her head spun.
"I've got you," she promised, bowing over him and brushing golden hair off his face. Her heart stuttered at how pale he was, at the veins so blue and dark against his eyelids. He looked delicate and breakable, and a sense of responsibility for his safety slammed into her so hard it stole her breath.
She sent her soul spearing towards his, checking the shadow birds weren’t diving towards them before she began a slow, thorough check of his body. Pain spiked through their bond when she brushed his thigh, and her hand came away wet and cold.
"It's okay," she promised, not letting her dread seep into her voice. "You're gonna be fine, Arkie. You got me out of the palace; I'll get you out of this place. If it's the chasm, these birds might love me like my wolves do."
She hovered her hand over Ark's bleeding thigh and to Sephanae said, "Show me how to heal him. I'm the saint of spring; I must be able to use that to heal him, right?" When only silence answered, Maia repeated, "Right? Sephanae?"
No voice answered. She was on her own, with her unconscious, bleeding mate, and half a dozen circling vultures.
