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I focus on this floor, this corridor, follow the taste of ashes and the acrid smell of smoke. Come to me, I think, come now.
Steps sound, heading toward us.
Ashton curses under his breath. “Mia…”
“Ophelia?” The guard appears. He stops, stares at me. “I saw you go into the room, how can you be here? I—”
“Magic,” I say with a shrug.
His eyes are wide, his face paling. “Holy fuck. That’s extraordinary.”
“Thank you. Now please go. I wish to visit Jason. Alone.”
He nods, glances at Ashton briefly, then walks away.
“You called him with magic,” Ashton breathes as the guard turns into the stairwell.
“Yes. And I’m going to call all the guards off while you go take Ophelia away. If I manage to get the other boys coherent and willing, we’ll come join you and maybe we can finally take her down, make her undo the enchantment.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Got any better ones?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He reaches for me, hauls me against him. Kisses me. “I trust you, Vasilissa. Do what you must, and so shall I.”
He turns to go and doesn’t look back, and this time I know it’s for my sake. I let him go, not telling him that there’s an anti-spell I will try to cast to break the enchantment. It might release them, unlatch the lock on them.
But it can fail. I’ve never done it before. No guarantees.
Then again, when do you get any guarantee in life? You have to keep flinging yourself off cliffs and hope that the waves below are deep enough to take your plunge and lead you back to the surface alive.
It takes some time—long, agonizingly endless minutes, until the door to Jason’s room opens and Ophelia emerges together with Ashton. Hidden in the shadow of a door, I watch them head toward Ashton’s room. I wonder what he told her. What he offered.
Don’t think about that now, I tell myself. Check that Jason is all right. Get on with the plan.
Though I hadn’t planned on trying the spell now, today. I searched all the library books on breaking enchantments and I’d hoped to talk to Vanessa about it, maybe try it out first. Improvising wasn’t what I had in mind, but no choice. It will have to work.
Fingers crossed.
Jason’s door is locked and the keys are resting in Ophelia’s pocket. But when I close my eyes and search for the sense of earth—wood, metal, and stone—I pop the lock open like every time and enter.
I’d left him asleep last I was here this morning, satisfied that he’d drunk some water and eaten the food I’d brought him, clearing away the containers to hide my actions.
Now he’s lying face-down on the floor by the bed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth with every shallow breath.
My heart stops in my chest.
That bitch.
He’s not dead, I tell myself as I drop to my knees, barely feeling the impact, and I hadn’t even realized the thought had lodged itself in my head like a bullet. Of course not. She still needs him for the final ritual.
Has she done this to them before, while the enchantment wall was stronger, while I couldn’t feel it—draining them, then pulling the covers up for me to find them seemingly asleep? She can’t have known I was visiting them, right?
“Jax.” I make myself touch him, ignore the shock traveling up my arms at the chill of his flesh. He’s alive, he’s alive. Has to be. “Come on. Wake up. Jax!”
Too much to ask, perhaps. He’s only clad in pajama pants and the scarring on his back and shoulders looks darker against the paleness of his skin, the golden tones washed out. I brush tangled blond hair out of his face, struggle to turn him over. I can’t.
I need help.
