Page 125 of A Deal with the Shadow King

Jo holds the spiders at bay while we lay her down between us and tear the webs away. Despite the deep wounds between her ribs and the leftover spiderwebs filling her nose, Lori pulls herself up to her elbows next to me. The holes in her chest and side are full of venom, and my heart races at the extensive damage.

“Don’t move.” I push my powers forward desperately. I might not be a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, but I can save her. The steady current of shadow magic under my fingertips glitches near the end, unable to cure the venom-laced injury in its entirety.

“Are you okay?” I stand and help her to her feet.

“No, but it’s a start,” she croaks. A semblance of skin covers the infected lesion and relieves part of the pain, enough for my best friend to summon her shadow daggers to life.

Jo, Lori, and James form a protective bubble around me as more and more spiders hone in on our position. They’re all looking at me and not them, which makes the creatures more reckless.

Because there’s no question who Morrigan wants to kill most.

Damian and Morrigan both have access to the same well of magic, so their fight is evenly-matched. They parry and attack in turn until Morrigan manages to nick Damian’s arm, right next to the cut he made during the ceremony.

The air pulses with darkness. With a powerful kick to the stomach, he sends the phantom queen flying to the ground.

“What now, Rye? No plan B?” Damian’s voice slices through the gardens, as sharp and dangerous as the tip of his blade.

Blood drips down his arm and falls to the ground as he marches forward. Morrigan’s heels dig into the earth between them in a frenzy. The woman struggles to find her footing, but her back collides with the roots of the Hawthorn. Just as she’s about to open her mouth to speak, Damian impales her on his sword, sinking it right through her stomach.

The spiders screech in terror, the arachnids scurrying over to their mistress in a fury of arched legs and globulous eyes.

Morrigan scrambles to her feet, using the gnarly roots to hold herself up, and smiles from ear to ear. Blood rushes into her mouth, but she just spits it to the ground. “If I die, I’m bringing the kid along with me.”

Damian finds my gaze and shrugs. “You can’t touch her now.”

But Esme has never once called me kid. My chest shrinks. Damian moves to finish her before a heart-wrenching scream rises from the balcony.

My head snaps back to the railing, and I run to the stairs, rushing up to my sister. “Cece!”

So much blood… Her wound is identical to Morrigan’s. Without hesitation, I press my hands to the gaping hole in my sister’s stomach.

I heal her, and for every ounce of magic that heals her, I figure the gash in Morrigan’s stomach will close up, too. No wonder she was so cocky. Cece groans a series of unintelligible apologies, and after making sure she’s alright, I peer over the banister. “What did you do to her, witch?”

“You know me, darling. I always have a plan B,” Morrigan slurs, her mouth red with blood, but her body good as new. She tosses a glance in our direction. “As long as the kid lives, so do I.”

The hunters form a circle to block her retreat. Her loyal spiders hiss in warning, swarming around the trunk to protect her. There’s at least thirty of them left—enough to inflict real damage. Morrigan tilts her head back and laughs a horrible laugh. The edges of her body blur, and in the span of one breath, she turns into a spider under our frozen stares.

I quickly lose sight of her in the swarm, the creatures all identical as they skitter to escape. The hunters watch in shock, unable to capture them all, unwilling to risk Cece’s life by killing the wrong one.

The heaviness in my belly throbs, scorching and cold.

We’ve lost her…

Chapter 44

All at Once

Spiderwebs and blood pepper the gardens. I run to Damian, desperate to touch him. Desperate for the cut on his arm not to be real. My arms, my legs, my hopeless heart… I shake all over.

“You’re married!” My fist collides with his chest. I want to scream and scold him for not believing in himself. In us. “How could you not believe in us?”

He captures both of my hands in his, steadying me. “Hold on. I’m technically married, but only until midnight. In Faerie, no consummation means no marriage. The ritual is incomplete, and the spell will wither as soon as the clock strikes twelve.” He gives me a moment to digest the news before he grazes the angle of my jaw with his thumb.

No consummation… Of course!

It’s new to see him like this. All of him. All at once. He’s terribly beautiful.

A hint of tenderness pierces the hard king’s exterior, and I let out a small cry when he crushes me to him for a very public, irrevocable kiss.

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