Page 19 of Night of Death and Flowers

She swallows thickly. “I know. I agree, but this will have far worse consequences. I’m scared for you,” she admits. Ari walks to the door, then looks back over her shoulder. “If the elders find out you are behind this, we will all be ruined. Father may not be able to protect you this time. Even if they can, Drake won’t be spared. Everist is a Sight Seeker, Cali. He’ll be investigating this, and no one can hide the truth from him.”

With that, she leaves, closing the door behind her. I just hope she isn’t right.

“How are you?” I ask Drake as he enters the bedroom.

The last rays of the sunset stream through the moth-bitten drapes, but I’ve barely slept—only minutes between each panicked awakening. The silence hangs heavy in the room when he doesn’t answer right away. “Drake?”

He clears his throat and responds, “I went home. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

I notice his fresh clothes—a clean gray tunic and loose brown pants. He walks toward me, scuffing the heels of his saggy leather boots. His tattoos seem to come alive as he flexes his fingers, and I’m relieved to see they’re back and his magic has strengthened after almost being depleted.

“What happened?”

“The elders know it was someone from my coven,” he says, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he approaches my bed. “They saw the ash, too. They know someone else killed the two Phovi.”

Adrenaline rushes through my body and bile rises in my throat. “Did anyone see you?”

He shakes his head. “They were at my house. My mother told them I was hunting for our dinner.”

My stomach knots. “Which of the elders was at your house?”

He mumbles from under his palms, “Everist, your father, and Dephina.”

I climb out of bed. “Fuck.”

We both fall silent. If Arabella is right and Everist, the infamous Sight Seeker, is with the elders, they’ll quickly discover Drake’s presence in the church. Unlike me, he has no one to protect him. They won’t hesitate to hang him as an example. I push those thoughts aside. “There are more people here now than ever before. Anyone could have destroyed the statue.”

His biceps strain against the thin fabric of his tunic as he tightly clasps his knees. “The Harvest is in five days. They know it was one of the potential sacrifices. Who else, aside from us, would try to sabotage the ritual?” He releases a quivering exhale. “There are only six of age in my coven, and someone saw the light from my illusion when they passed the church. It won’t take long for them to know it was me. I’m as good as dead if I don’t escape.”

Absent-mindedly raking his fingers through his black hair, he adds, “They said The Offering is still going ahead.”

I shake my head. “How can they still go ahead? The statue is destroyed.”

His expression softens, revealing a gentler side to his rugged features. “I don’t know, but it’s happening.”

The possibility of the words we once joked about draws closer and closer. I grip my legs under the skirt of my dress, feeling the sharp sting as my nails dig into my skin, trying to ground myself as I contemplate leaving my sisters behind.

“I’ll go alone,” he says, as if I’d ever allow that. “I can go to one of the human kingdoms.”

I scoff. “Where they will kill you the moment they realize you have magic?”

My eyes fixate on the swirling symbols on his arms, each one depicting a different scene of him sailing away.

If he leaves Dahryst—the only sanctuary for witches and warlocks—he will be forced to seek refuge with the non-magical humans who despise our kind. They’ll make a show of torturing him.

If he chooses not to leave, Drake will have no choice but to take part in The Harvest. That, or he’ll be executed once they find out he was a part of destroying the statue and killing the Phovi.

None of this was supposed to happen. How in the Darklands are they planning on choosing the so-called sacrifices now? Without the statue. I knew this whole ceremony was corrupt. They don’t even need Death’s magic or the gods. They’ll likely pick the names themselves. Bastards.

Through the open window, I hear church bells and let out a weary sigh. “They’re summoning everyone.”

“You should go,” he replies. “If you don’t, they’ll suspect you.”

As the final dong resounds, my body shivers and a wave of coldness washes over me. “Darklands, no. I’m not staying while you run, and who says they won’t arrest me?”

“You know they won’t.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, Cali. I should have done this alone.” He takes a step forward and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. Despite Drake’s body pressing against mine, I can’t find any comfort, rendered numb to any other sensation.

My voice is barely audible as I mumble into his chest, “Like I’d have let you.”

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