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Ari’s illusion remained intact. Could he not feel my touch?
I slammed my hand through the ripple again. Davorin tightened his grip on my face and yanked me to my feet, pulling me against him.
“I can twist your fate to love me,” he said against my lips. “Or I can do it my way again. I do love your screams.”
Where was Ari? Without the pullback of his fury, the warriors would not be able to find us either. I’d seen the signal, but now I feared something had gone horribly wrong.
“Make your choice, little raven.”
I swallowed. I didn’t know where Ari and the others were, but I would find them. I would lead the warriors to us.
Trust your instincts.
At my side, I waved my hand. Not a true signal, but I hoped it would give Gorm or Calista the sign our plan had gone awry, and we would improvise.
I returned Davorin’s glare. “I made my choice, and it was never you.”
I didn’t know where Ari was, but I had to move to the next step. My body peeled back. The grip Davorin had on my face slipped when my narrow raven’s beak shaped. He cursed when my second form took hold and made a swipe to catch me.
“Get them!” The fae guards in his twisted court hesitated. Davorin’s eyes flashed in raw violence. “I said get them!”
One tall fae, likely a man from the Court of Serpents based on the tufted fur on his ears, laughed. “Why would we help you?”
For the first time, Davorin paused. He studied his own palm, then looked to the forest fae. The man doubled over and retched. Black blood spewed from his throat. In the back, another trio vomited. The ones nearest my cloak were the worst off. They convulsed as sweat beads turned black and oozed from their pores.
Calista snickered. “Should’ve had her check her clothes at the gates.”
Davorin looked to my cloak. It didn’t take much for him to guess we’d laced my clothing with something to counteract his glamour. He raged, face red, and merely touched the fae at his side and melted into the other figure, then another, leaping and pouncing through the guards in the royal house, chasing me faster than we could keep up.
Gorm could strike and end up killing innocent fae by the time Davorin leapt back out.
I pounded my wings desperately, calling for the warriors. If they heard, they might move forward. If Gorm could hold even for a moment, if Gunnar’s mesmer could keep blades at bay, I might have time to find them, to guide them through the illusion of thicker brush and shadows and willows hiding them from sight.
In front of Gorm, Davorin peeled out of one of his unwitting hosts. The star fae collapsed, breathing heavily from the brief invasion, and scurried away. With a low growl of frustration, Davorin drew his broadsword. “Clever trick, finding a way to shield against my mimic.”
“There is nothing clever about it.” Gorm had a skilled grip on his blade and a calmness in his expression. “It simply made sense. What power do you have if you have no army? The isles are ours.”
“You think my sights are only on the isles?”
“No. But they will fall short if we stop you.”
Gorm, Cuyler, and Gunnar all shifted into a low stance, at the ready to strike. We were warded against Davorin, but no mistake, he would fight until the lot of us were dead.
A little longer.
I flew toward the double doors, but shrieked when the red glow of the night rippled.
Alongside the edges of the royal house, trees thinned, soil caved in on the burrows, at long last revealing the lines of blood fae warriors kept hidden behind Ari’s illusion. They roared their battle cries. Rawhide drums sounded down the line. The wild fae stumbled in their surprise.
Davorin looked around the house, a pure, terrifying rage on his face. Until it broke into a laugh, one that raised the skin. “There’s my raven. Playing her games.”
“I hope you’re not talking about my wife.”
My raven’s heart pounded viciously. From the trees, Ari stepped out, face soaked in blood. He glimpsed me hovering overhead. “Apologies, sweet menace. We were delayed.”
“Awakener.” Davorin rolled the blade in his hand. “You decided to remain with us.”
“Oh, I’ve decided many things.” Ari used one hand to unsheathe a brilliant sword. A familiar golden hilt. By the hells, it was the sword Riot hid. He pointed the tip toward Davorin. “Most of which include the different ways I will make you beg before you die. By the way, was this what you wanted from the repository?”
