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“Bullshit,” Ashton breathes.
“As I was telling Mia, the spell Ophelia cast enhanced the others’ emotions concerning her, but also Emrys’ anger, Jason’s relief—”
“But Emrys isn’t angry at Ophelia,” Ashton interjects.
“No. These are their emotions about Mia. The spell amplified all emotions, that is the problem.”
I frown at Sindri. “What does the spell have to do with any of this? If the spell is about me, they shouldn’t have a problem helping Ash.”
“Ah, but we have chosen sides,Almaya.”
“This isn’t a war!” I breathe.
“Some would say it is,” Sindri whispers and stands up in a fluid motion. “I’ll go find them, try to talk to them. You’d better stay here with Ashton, make sure he doesn’t drink more or this mission will be shot down before it even takes off.”
3
SINDRI
Fucking witches. Fucking magic.
Fucking teenage boys with no brains and no strength of character, no knowledge and no understanding. Probably slept right through the entire two years of magical education. Unless…
No. They’re idiots, and I’m not much cleverer, going to talk to them. Sure, they think they’ve sided with the Queen Witch, that she’ll solve all their problems. But it’s not true.
How do I know that? I’m not entirely sure. This Ophelia is definitely strong. She doesn’t struggle to use her magic like Mia does. Doesn’t need skin-to-skin contact to make it happen.
Could I be wrong?
Am I on the wrong side?
I slow down as I spot the trio from afar. They’re standing in front of one of the bonfires and I can’t tell if they’re talking or not. Even my fey hearing doesn’t catch any words on the wind.
What if Ophelia knows how to reverse the spell on our demonblood magic and save us from the surges? How am I letting my familiarity with Mia dictate my moves? Since when have I become like a human, paying more attention to my feelings than reality? I—
Ophelia turns her head toward me, looking straight at me, and smiles.
What the hell?I realize I’ve been walking toward them all this time when I thought I’d stopped.
Damn. I shake my head and make myself halt. The closer I get to her, the more muddled my thoughts become, my rational mind tampered with. It’s as if she has a shield of magic around her, sending out these pulses of distortion.
Yes, she is a strong witch, no doubt about it.
“Sindri.” She starts toward me, covering the distance I’ve left between us. “You came to join us.”
“I came to talk,” I grit out, pushing back at the subtle assault that seems to press on me from every side.
“Finally. I admit I thought you’d have come sooner.”
“Not for you. I came for Jason and Emrys.”
“Oh, you wound me, Sindri,” she says but her smile doesn’t falter, it only grows sharper. “I’ve wanted to talk with you since I first saw you.”
“Was that two days ago or all those months ago, when you pretended to be someone else?”
“I had my reasons then.” A non-answer. She’s good at this. Almost as good as I am.
“If you want to talk with me, then stop throwing your magic around,” I growl.
