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It was when Raana had come to terms with Eli being dead when the storm had ceased, and she was entirely covered in his blood and gore, that she noticed Callan had taken her knife, Nerissa’s knife, clutching it tightly in his shaking fingers. For a few thunderous heartbeats that matched the previous cadence of a world that at last seemed to have opened itself to her, she wasn’t sure if he intended to use it on her…or himself.
But like the drop of a lock on a cage, that haze overcame his face again, and he let the knife fall into the mud. She didn’t have a chance to save it from sinking to the bottom of the river.
And then, there had been Adrien.
There was a feeling first, a sense of blissful relief and a warmth she wanted to wrap herself in before cold and brutal reality settled as much as the sediment beneath her feet.
And more so than the dead body that she saw every time she closed her eyes, she couldn’t forget the look in his own when they’d collided with hers. Hurt, disgust, confusion—and maybe something else sweeter she’d been too hopeful to detect.
Upon their return to the Wilds, to the Pack Hall, she and Callan were greeted by a motley army of Nerissa’s other soldiers and bak. Despite her protests and screaming, the blood had been wrenched from her hand, and the two of them were violently separated. After all they’d endured on their journey, Raana had been too drained to fight back.
For days now, she’d tried to trace Callan through the halls, trying to recall how his aura may have felt, but with all this iron and other magic, it was hopeless. Though she’d carried on until blood gushed from her nose, her ears only knew ringing, and her head pounded so badly it brought her to her knees.
And for days, she also hadn’t been able to find Nerissa.
Until now.
“Where are you keeping him?” Raana asked by way of greeting when she entered what she could only assume had been a greenhouse before the dark magic took hold. Its arching glass was spotted with spidery vines of rot and decay, any chance of seeing beyond ruined by its cloudiness. There hadn’t been much sunshine behind the confines of the Wall, anyway.
Her shadows were a whirlwind behind her as she approached where Nerissa stood in the middle of growth, plucking rotting plants from their perches, collecting leaves and bushels in a small wicker basket.
“You need to be more specific, child,” she trilled, examining a fragment of the crumbling foliage.
Her nonchalance stoked an ire inside her. “Callan,”Raana snapped. “His name is Callan. Where do you keep him?”
“The one who murdered his friend?”
Raana jerked back, the shadows catching at her sides as if they’d thought she’d truly fall. “How do you know that? I haven’t seen you for days.” She hadn’t had the chance to tell her anything.
“He told me.”
Theliltin her voice.
Raana’s features twitched, and the shadows were a delightful bite at her fingertips. With her manacle already abandoned, she contemplated removing her lesser glamor to give Nerissa the full force of what she actually was. “Where. Is. He?”
Nerissa took stock of what was in her basket before stepping to the side. Her inky hair had been braided back, her emerald robe vivid against the murky landscape—but her face did not have the same brightness, Raana realized. Her features seemed paler, worn, and the scar Isla had given her seemed more brutal. She seemed…weaker. Like she was slipping.
“And why do you need to know?” she asked. “Are you going to have a chat? Use him to fill the void your prince left behind?”
“That’s disgusting,” Raana spat after her, her skin crawling at the implication.
Nerissa had moved to the middle of the glass, humming some tune Raana didn’t know. It was all so easy for her—all this death and suffering.
Raana shook her head, pointing. “You talk about wanting revenge on the Imperial Alpha, but how isthis,” she gestured around, shadows clearing the foliage as she stalked towards her. “Any better than what he’s doing to our sisters who you’re ‘avenging’? All of this effort. All this power that you have, and you’re sitting in here using it to play games. Using everyone else to do your dirty work. You’re a coward.”
“Says the girl too afraid to embrace her own power,” the elder witch’s voice had darkened. “And do not patronize me, calling themoursisters. I doubt they were your sisters when you still opened your legs for the prince. Now, while you still lust after—”
Nerissa’s basket clattered to the floor, its cursed contents spilling as a gasp spilled from her lips as Raana’s shadows whipped out, pinning her to the wall. The glass, the entire decrepit greenhouse rattled, and Raana could’ve sworn the ghosts of this place, something greater and far more wicked, had peered in to behold her.
Like serpents, her darkness slithered along Nerissa’s body, enveloping her in their violent iciness before coiling around her neck. Raana’s bones, her breath, and blood had become nothing but ice, and she laughed, a horrible sound wrenching from some dark and hollow unknown part of her as she sensed Nerissa’s conduits burning, her chants in the First Language, though whispered, loud in her fae ears.
Hopeless.
What had she done to weaken herself this much?
The smell of magic filled the room as Nerissa’s nose started bleeding, her soft words of attempted control fading when she realized—
“Your magic doesn’t work on me,” Raana snarled, feeling the phantom of Eli dying beneath her hands.
