Page 116 of When Wishes Bleed

My mother smiled maliciously. “Will I?”

Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion.

Cyril spirited to Tauren before I could reach him. Arron was suddenly behind my prince, clamping a hand on his shoulder and preparing to flee.

I appeared behind my mother a second too late.

She screeched as she dragged a dagger from within the folds of her dress and stabbed at Tauren’s middle. The resulting tumult was concealed by the dark shimmers of clouds left in Arron’s wake. Tauren’s roar of pain was swallowed up as the two disappeared.

A sudden, blinding pain made me buckle. The bottom of my shirt was soaked crimson as the coppery scent of blood filled the air. I pressed a hand to my flesh, but it didn’t ease the pain or stanch the bleeding. I sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sable!” Brecan screamed from somewhere off to the right. He sounded far away. Everything did. Sounds were muffled. I blinked heavily, wanting nothing more than to tell Tauren I loved him before my life restored his.

I called upon Fate to help me, feeling his comforting darkness unfurl inside. His legs steeled mine. He stretched my fingers and then curled them into tight fists. His eyes saw through mine. My stomach stopped hurting and I floated somewhere inside myself, letting Fate consume me from within.

We started toward her.

Cyril.

The one who betrays.

The one who destroys.

The one who covets.

The one who kills.

Fate’s thoughts jumbled with mine. They slid over and around until I couldn’t tell whether they came from him or me.

Cyril was not concerned for me, but she was shaken, obviously struggling to make sense of what she was seeing. “I stabbed him, not you!”

“She bound her soul to his,” Brecan spat, approaching her from the other side, herding her closer to us.

“Sable, come back while you still can,” Cyril warned, reaching out to me while maintaining her distance. “You need help. Your body is dying.”

Fate chuckled darkly. His voice overshadowed mine, then I couldn’t hear mine at all. All that remained was his warning.

“No,” Cyril growled. She knew she couldn’t stand against Fate because she knew intimately how powerful he was. She’d had it inside her but foolishly cast him away; she regretted it every moment since. She pretended it was what she’d wanted all along, right up until the moment she tried to kill me to get it back.

She called on the dark magic she knew so well, the atmosphere trembling with magic so terrible, so powerful, even the earth itself vibrated underfoot. She lashed out with a powerful blow. The writhing darkness should’ve knocked me off my feet, but with Fate steeling me, it was no more than an annoying flick. Fear flashed through her eyes a split second before she lashed out again.

“Sable, he will not leave you if you don’t come back right now. Trust me, daughter.”

The one who lies.

Fate marched me toward her. He thrust his hand out and oozing darkness poured from his palm, knitting an otherworldly length of rope. The strand glittered as he used my hands to knot the end with practiced ease. It was almost as if he’d somehow stolen the dark umbilical cord of the universe itself and hidden it away until this precise moment, like it was the cord’s fate to protect me, to protect us all.

The rope ached and rejoiced in its freedom, encircling her neck and reeling her in until my steely fingers gripped her jaw. She thrashed and fought to free herself, panting and cursing and attempting every spell she could think of as she clawed at my arms. She tried to call forth more dark magic, but Fate would not allow it.

Fate roared in her face and then, as if she weighed no more than an acorn, he threw Cyril toward the Center. The witches trapped inside jumped to avoid her and Cyril landed in the middle, sprawled on the heap of earth from which she’d recently clawed her way out. The instant she realized she was coated in the soil, she jumped up, screaming and rubbing her skin where it lay as crumbling dust. Bits of earth flew from her skin as she hurried to rid herself of it.

Her eyes glittering with malice and rage, Cyril lodged a burst of darkness toward me. It shattered against my chest, but didn’t break me. Fate again sent out his dark, viscous tendril. It coiled around her like a twister, tightening like a serpent who delighted in squeezing its prey until its bones snapped and it went slack.

Cyril grunted as her magic escaped her.

Fate used my body to march toward the Center, breaking through the magical barrier Cyril had erected. His presence alone extinguished the black fire, breaking the spell and setting the witches free. They spilled onto the lawns in mystified disarray. Some panicked, running into their Houses for cover. Others hovered, unsure what to do or how to help. Brecan and Mira shouted to them, but I couldn’t hear what they said. I could only feel Fate.

In this moment, he embodied the feeling he gave me when I stalked someone he wanted dead.

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