Page 147 of The Witch and The Blood Oath

Cordelia narrowed her gaze on me, and Freya snarled.

“Aren’t the witches you mercilessly bleed dry downstairs enough to fuel your plans?” she demanded. “Or better yet, your own power?”

Cordelia’s hand shot up and curled into a fist. Arion howled in pain, and Freya’s face crumpled with heartbreak. Her devastation only fed my wrath.

“Enough,” Cordelia ordered. Her hand drifted back to her side. “You two cannot understand—you willneverunderstand because I will never let the sorceress rise again. This ends tonight.”

As I studied her, I realized Cordelia’s self-righteousness was genuine. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the sorceress needed to be eliminated at all costs. She was so lost in the big picture, she had forgotten about every life lost in her crusade.

“Gather, children,” Cordelia instructed her followers.

I was shoved forward, and so were Freya and Cady. I twisted and scrambled, but someone wrenched my arms farther back. My shoulders screamed in protest.

Freya landed a hit with her elbow on a Handmaiden’s chin, but the enemy witches leaped on her. One of them drove a foot directly into the side of Freya’s kneecap. As the joint gave to the force of the Handmaiden’s kick, Freya screamed in agony. I tried to reach for her, but the damned guards held me back.

“Oh God,” Cady whispered.

Freya’s knee bent at a ninety-degree angle. She swallowed a scream, and Arion roared. I wished with everything I could to help her, and our magic flickered once again.

“Very good,” Cordelia praised. “Pain motivates their bond.”

“Move,” someone barked in my ear. “Or your sister’s next.”

Shaking with rage, I stumbled closer to where Elle lay. I tried to look back to Freya, but Handmaidens surrounded her.As they encircled Elle, the rest of Cordelia’s cronies gathered candles, feathers, and milky white bones.

Someone shoved me to my knees right beside Elle’s face, and the Handmaidens carried Freya to the other side of the dais. Part of me envied the chimera. She wouldn’t have to remember any of this.

Despite the tears on her cheeks, when Freya lifted her head, her eyes burned with determination. I stared at her, willing a plan into place to stop this, but my mind was a panicked haze.

“Will—” Cady stammered. “Will it kill them?”

I glanced over my shoulder. The Garrison held my sister at bay.

“That’s not my intention,” Cordelia promised, “but we must do everything to ensure the sorceress rests.”

Across from me, a smile lifted the corners of Freya’s lips.

Had Cordelia been right?

Was being my Anchor so horrible, Freya would risk death to get rid of our bond?

Chapter Forty-Two

Freya

Like a thundering cloud of death, the High Witch’s magic washed over us. She raised her hands, and the golden ceiling opened into a skylight. Through the clouds and setting sun’s light, two moons appeared.

We were far, far from home.

My knee swelled and throbbed. I couldn’t walk, much less run. My only weapon was my magic, which the cuffs kept firmly out of my reach.

Under her breath, the High Witch chanted a spell, and her magic hummed in the air. When her followers echoed the incantation, its force rattled my chest. Handmaidens arranged the bones around us in strange, angular shapes. Too slowly, I recognized the ancient symbols.

Ignite.

Extract.

Entomb.

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