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I laughed bitterly. “I’ll never make that mistake.”
The witch stilled then. She’d been rocking again, but I hadn’t realized. Her eyes drifted shut. This was my moment, to kill her and be done with it. So that no enemy might climb this tower, so that the answers to my questions died with her as well.
When her haunting eyes opened, the shades of white had gone. Transformed into empty black pits.
Her lips curved slowly. My heart thudded to a stop as she lunged.
I slashed my dagger across her face, knowing from the resistance on my blade that I’d found flesh.
But I was so worried about her teeth, I neglected to see the talons she withdrew from her cloak. Sharp as knives, but not. They were nails, I realized. Curved and sharpened into wicked points. One slash, and she’d cut through the leather straps that held the blades across my back, and left a deep gauge in the flesh of my chest.
By some miracle, it didn’t break the skin. But the scratch stung enough for me to wonder if she’d tipped those fingernails with poison.
Not she—it.
The witch was gone, and in her place was the sort of death and darkness that I’d seen twice before. Flailing, unpredictable movements that made no sense. She didn’t cry out as I slashed at her hand, slicing down to the bone. I whirled, trying to get to my rapiers. But she’d flung them away, to the other side of circular tower room.
I threw a knife, grazing the side of her face. But she moved too erratically, I couldn’t count on my aim. I’d have to stab her directly.
The air had turned cold. Not just my hands, always cold, but my toes, the tip of my nose. Even despite the exertion as I whirled, dodging those wicked nails and defending, I felt the ice settling in my chest.
A brutal hit to my wrist—like a whip, she’d wielded those nails. My dagger clanged to the ground.
I was weaponless. Had only my fists against a being taken over by darkness, that did not feel pain. Death was coming for me, I realized then.
I leveled a kick, hard as I could, at the center of her chest. She clawed at my leg, even as she went stumbling backward. My teeth gnashed at the pain, eyes squeezing closed even as I fought against the instinct, knowing I couldn’t allow even a blink of weakness.
Over her shoulder, a glint of gold caught my eye.
She careened into it, falling to the side from the impact of my kick.
It couldn’t be.
She’d be up in a second, totally impervious to pain. I didn’t have time to think or question how it could be there. How I’d missed it, when she’d been sitting on the stone the entire time.
I kicked her again, not looking to see if I caught face or teeth or body. Only knowing that I had to get myself up onto that stone.
My hand curled around the hilt, so much smaller and paler than the last that had gripped its pommel. But I didn’t have time to wonder as I pulled Excalibur from the stone.
Heat flowed into my body from where I held my brother’s sword, as if he’d left some piece of his burning magic there for me to find. It fought against the cold pushing in from all sides.
The thing that had once been a witch roared, throwing back her head and gnashing those wicked teeth, ready to tear me apart.
But I brought the mighty sword above my head, clinging to it tightly with both hands, and stabbed it down into her chest. Cleaving her apart.
She, it, the witch—fell to the ground.
I did too. The blast of heat from Excalibur’s golden hilt ebbed away, replaced by that creeping cold.
I hoped it was enough. Did I need to behead her, the way I would a fae?
Was that ancient blade the same as the daggers, that faint swirl of mixed metals? I’d never looked before. Never cared.
Such a beastly sword, so heavy in my hand.
My hand couldn’t hold it, my wrist shaking.
Everything shaking.
