Page 128 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

Cady.

“I’m here,” I said and cleared my throat, which scratched like I had swallowed a handful of sand.

Copper coated my tongue, and I spat out blood. I sat up and blinked rapidly to try to adjust to the dim light. It didn’t take me long, however, to notice the metal bars pressing in on me on three sides. Still on the ground, I whirled and found a windowless, gray stone wall.

Cells,I realized.We’re in some kind of cells.

Next to me but separated by the thick, metal bars, Ryder struggled to rise to his feet. Beyond him, Cady stared in my direction without meeting my gaze. Worry marred her features. I twisted and found Freya lying on her side with her back to me. I searched the cell beside her, but Arion was nowhere in to be seen.

Maybe he didn’t get pulled in,I thought, but I doubted it was possible.

The vacuum of power that had yanked us into the ripple had been hopeless to retreat from. Since I couldn’t help the demon cat, I crawled toward Freya.

I always forgot how small she was, but laying on the ground like a ragdoll, she appeared impossibly fragile. Her red hair had pulled free of its braid and spread around her like a halo. Mingled in its lovely red shades was crimson blood.

“Freya,” I rasped.

“Frey?” Ryder said. Fear shook his voice. “Is she—is she breathing?”

I tried to recognize if her body moved with breath, buteverythingmoved. No, it was me—Iwas shaking.

My voice wobbled. “I can’t tell. She’s bleeding—she’s bleeding from her head, and it’s not stopping.”

I reached through the bars to try to turn her over, but I couldn’t reach. She was too far away.

Footsteps echoed.

I snapped to attention and noticed the stark absence of my magic. No heat melted through my veins or invigorated my body. As a young witch walked down the narrow hall of the dungeons, I did something I never thought I would do.

I longed for my power.

Though it was pointless, I crawled as close as I could to Freya’s side. The witch stopped in front of my cell. I studied her prim expression and out-of-date clothes. A leather corset stretched under her fluffy white blouse, and her midnight blue cloak touched the floor. She was pretty in the way all witches were, but her green eyes were predatory.

“Good,” she said and studied each of us. “You’re here and alive.”

The witch’s gaze lingered on Freya. “Mostly.”

At least she’s alive.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Where is here?”

Part of me knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.

“You haven’t figured it out?” She grinned and revealed wickedly sharp teeth. “You’re in High Witch Cordelia’s court, of course.”

The strange witch chuckled. “More accurately, you’re in her dungeons.”

I reexamined her cloak and swallowed.

This witch was a Handmaiden.

Ryder growled and lurched to the front of his cell. His clawed hands gripped the bars, but he hissed and pulled back. Smoke rose from his palms.

“I wouldn’t touch those,” the witch advised. “They’re infused with silver.”

Ryder glowered. “Where is Elle,” he demanded.

“Who?” the witch asked blandly.

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