Page 115 of When Wishes Bleed

“And you deserve it?” I asked, raising my brow.

She stabbed a pointed nail in the direction of a clump of disturbed soil in the Center. “I spent seventeen long years being trodden upon. I deserve every ounce of power that’s due me, and I will make sure nothing like that happens to me again. I know how you’ve been treated, Sable. Like a castoff. Like nothing. How can you even stand to look in their direction? They mean nothing to you, because you meant nothing to them.”

“You are the reason they treated me as they did. You turned my own grandmother against me.”

“I protected you!” she roared, taking a threatening step forward.

I matched her step. “I didn’t need you to protect me from them. The only one I’ve ever needed protection from is you. You are the only one who has ever managed to hurt me.”

She shook her head. “The only reason you weren’t bound with me was because of my protection spell, but even it didn’t cast Fate away from you as I’d hoped.”

“For that, I’m grateful,” I snapped.

She bared her teeth. “Fate hurts you every day, just by inhabiting you. He poisons your thoughts, makes you do things you otherwise wouldn’t, makes it hard to look at yourself in the mirror. He hurts you just by existing inside you. If he loved you, he would leave you alone. He would respect your wishes. He would honor your choices.”

Fate had never treated me like I didn’t matter. He came to me. He protected me. And he wanted to protect me now.

A frustrated, heavy tear fell from my eye. “And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be doing this to those I love.”

Before she could respond, I spirited myself to the Circle and reached out to touch the barrier – to shatter it as I had the mirror she’d sent. Arron said that only a Fate witch could break her spell. I didn’t care how I’d been treated in the past or how divisive the Houses were, my mother was wrong.

Something lashed around my neck and tightened, jerking me quickly away and abruptly cutting off my air supply. Cyril held the other end of the whip.

“I, too, was Fate’s daughter. Don’t try that again, or I’ll hang you myself – on the gallows that I built.”

I tried to speak and couldn’t. My vocal chords wouldn’t allow even a squeak.

Mother let go of the whip’s handle and I collapsed to the ground, my fingers digging into the parched grass. I unwound the whip’s sharp leather from my flesh, gasping for breath.

Mira and Brecan appeared near the Center. A fierce wind blew across the pentagram, but even the gusts couldn’t extinguish the flames attempting to consume Ethne, Bay, and Wayra. Cyril started toward them.

I called on Fate, rising to my feet again. As I did, Cyril felt the shift.

“Don’t,” Cyril snapped, shoving me so hard I landed on my back.

It was strange seeing her hovering above me, because it was like looking in a mirror. She hadn’t aged during her internment beneath the soil, and now that I was of age, we looked like sisters, almost like twins. She grabbed my arms and shook me. Hard.

“Don’t unleash him. You will regret it.”

“I’d never regret ridding the world of you,” I spat.

She stiffened, her mouth gaping as if she’d been slapped. “I thought you would at least listen to reason.”

“If you were reasonable, I might have.”

Her expression closed off. “You have a choice,” she said coldly. “Save the witches, or save your prince.” Cyril glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing at Tauren.

“If you hurt him…” I warned.

Tauren thrashed, trying to break free of his bindings, but they were likely spelled, and even if they weren’t, it was nearly impossible to do.

Brecan spirited himself across the lawn to stand in front of the gallows and our prince. He nodded once to me, then called on his wind to push upward against the trap doors beneath Tauren, while Arron appeared beside him, loosening his noose.

Cyril was livid. Her plans were slowly unraveling, and she did the only thing she could. She called upon the darkness. Murky shadows slid over the earth, cooling the grass beneath me and spreading frost across the dried blades of grass. My bones rattled within my skin from the power of their mist. Black fire burst from the ground, quickly spreading, outlining the pentagram and slicing through the worn trails. The witches enclosed within the Center screamed, huddling together in groups to keep away from the dark flames slicing between them.

If only I’d reached a little farther, and had broken Cyril’s holding spell.

Once Arron freed him, Tauren jerked the gag from his mouth. “Sable, get away from her!” Tauren yelled. He stalked forward, his golden eyes aimed at Cyril. “My father doesn’t believe in putting criminals to death, but I am not as good a man as he,” Tauren warned. “You will die for the terror you’ve inflicted.”

---