Page 120 of The Demon Tide

I stare at her, the immensity of my situation rushing through me anew as the trees send out their continuous buzz of noxious ire. Before I can think too closely on it, I pop a spider egg into my mouth, surprised by its rich, briny taste. “All right,” I concede, digging in, “it’s good.”

Bleddyn’s mouth slants up as she sets to eating her own food.

“How’s little Fern?” I ask, forcing conversation as we settle into the disorienting but necessary ruse of a companionable Eastern Realm meal. I have wondered, many times over the past few months, how Fernyllia Hawthorne’s granddaughter from the university kitchens is faring. I remember how Fernyllia charged Bleddyn and Iris with getting Fern to the East and keeping her safe.

A twinge of pain breaks through me as I also remember how heroic Fernyllia gave her life so that so many could escape to the East, including my brothers and Diana and Jarod. And how her actions, posing as the university poisoner, sheltered both me and Tierney.

“Fern’s living in the Eastern Sublands,” Bleddyn says, growing somber. “Sagellyn Gaffney and Ra’Ven Za’Nor have adopted her.”

My brow lifts in surprise as Bleddyn sighs and picks up her tea. “She misses Fernyllia,” she says, giving me a level look. “But she’s happy enough. And quite a bit safer.” She narrows her gaze pensively at the restaurant across the street, its countless Noi flags flapping in the stiff breeze. “Fernyllia would be glad to see Fern here,” she muses, voice tight with feeling. “Problems and all.” She turns back to me, tears now sheening her emerald eyes, and I remember how close Bleddyn was to Fernyllia.

“Well, I think we should toast to Fernyllia, then,” I say, raising my teacup a fraction. “I think... I think that she would have liked the idea of this.” I motion between us. “You and me. Sitting here...”

“Getting ready to smash Vogel to bits by any means necessary?” Bleddyn cuts in, blowing out a rough laugh, her irreverent voice shot through with emotion.

I nod and smile a bit as grief tightens my throat. “Yeah. That. Together.”

Bleddyn raises her tea. “To Fernyllia, then. In tribute...” Her words break off and she shakes her head and stops herself, even though it seems as if she could say a lot more.

We clink teacups, and Bleddyn roughly wipes away a tear, then takes a swig of tea. She gives me a narrow-eyed smile and raises her mug once more. “And to you, Ny’laea.” She sets down her tea, picks up her Black Witch figurine and untwines the small hammer tied to it. Then she lays the figuring on its side, and I flinch as she brings the hammer roughly down on its head. My heartbeat quickens to see my own face, in miniature, rendered to wooden shards, revealing the prize hidden inside its hollow depths.

Bleddyn picks up the tiny pearlescent white-bird pendant that is gleaming in the wood dust. She hands it to me, glancing pointedly at my Black Witch figurine. “Best crack that witch’s head open, Ny’laea. You’re going to need all the luck you can get.”

I glance down at the evil statue, then at my glamoured fastlines.Soon, I remind myself as an ache for Lukas rises. Your magic will be freed in a matter of hours. Lie in wait for now and survive.

Then, portal west. And fight your way back to Lukas.

Grimly resolved, I pick up my Black Witch figurine and untie the hammer.

CHAPTER FOUR

WITCHFASTING

Lukas Grey

Shadow hive

One day prior to Xishlon

Elloren.

The name pulses in the back of his mind as Lukas watches Vogel stride toward his Shadow-barred cell, the desire to break free and find her an all-consuming blaze inside him. His focus sharpens on Vogel, hackles rising, dagger sharp, as he takes in Vogel’s greatly altered attire—military blacks instead of the long dark tunic of a Mage Priest.

“Did they kick you out of the priesthood?” Lukas chides as Vogel stops just outside the cell’s wavering bars, his multi-eyed raven perched on his shoulder, six gray-eyed Mage soldiers falling in behind him.

Vogel’s mouth gives the trace of a lift. “I stepped down from my Holy Calling this morn.”

Alarm darts through Lukas, but he forces a smile, his lip swollen from the latest beating. “So...the Magedom finally realized what an unholy beast you are?”

Something lethal flashes in Vogel’s pale eyes, silvery hot. “Bind him,” Vogel orders.

The Mages raise their wands as one and Lukas is hit by a blast of Shadow netting that knocks him to the ground, pinning him there, arms outstretched. Breathing hard, Lukas glares piercingly at Vogel.

Vogel steps straight through the cell’s Shadow bars, then gracefully lowers himself to one knee beside Lukas. He tilts his head, contemplative. “There are other callings as true as the Blessed Priestdom.”

“Unbind me and give me a wand,” Lukas snarls. “And I’ll show you mine.”

Vogel’s gaze narrows. “You tainted my Black Witch.” He says it lightly enough, but Lukas can sense the proprietary spite in it.

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