Page 26 of The Crow Games

Goodnight, love, she whispered just like she had every other night.

I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

* * *

A heavy weight pressed me into the mattress, and I jerked awake, unsure of the time. Something sharp gleamed at my throat. My spirit surged. It burst out of me, coating the walls in tiny glittery lights that shimmered silver in the dark. My magic was still far from fully renewed, but there was more of it now after resting.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, ducky,” Nola said, oblivious to the magic around her. It was her weight on my body, her blade at my throat. “We’re genuinely glad you’re not dead.”

“The placement of your knife suggests otherwise,” I huffed, the jut of her elbow constricting my lungs.

“But how the Helareyou alive right now?” Ruchel demanded, her stance stiff beside my bed, slender arms folded over her chest. “And don’t lie to us. I’ll know it if you do.”

Silver spirit magic glittered against the walls and bedding like starlight. They couldn’t see it, but it coated them as well, shining in their hair.

“I’m a gray witch,” I rasped. Stunned into silence, they didn’t respond. This wasn’t at all how I’d wanted them to learn the truth, but what choice did I have now? “I tried to shoot the garm basher in the eye with the revolver, but the brute disarmed me. I’m alive because I reached into the beast’s chest, ripped out its soul, and cast it into the ether.”

Horror widened Nola’s cobalt eyes. I waited for her to drive the dagger home, fingers digging anxiously into the sheets at my sides. Confusion melded with reluctance in her tightening features. The line between her tawny brows deepened.

I hoped she wouldn’t try to kill me. I hoped they’d hear me out, hoped the connection we were building could continue into something more. Something greater. Something strong enough to tear down these horrid games and claim our freedom. Whatever answer she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Her grip slipped ever so slightly on her blade.

I braced myself for her response. She blinked, mystified. Then her gaze shifted to her partner.

Ruchel’s mouth pressed into a firm, unyielding line. She worked her throat. “If you’re gray, then you’re not human. Not completely. So what are you?”

“Beast-born?” Nola guessed when I didn’t immediately supply an answer, her tone hopeful.

“You’re heavy,” I rasped.

“And you’re welcome for that,” Nola said. “We didn’t want you jerking upright and cutting yourself. Not yet anyway.”

“Thoughtful,” I coughed.

“Enough of that,” Ruchel snapped. “Answer the blasted question.”

“I’m not beast-born,” I sighed. “I’ve no garm blood.”

“God-born,” Ruchel hissed. “Then you havegodblood.”

“That’s so much worse, duck,” Nola groaned. “Entire civilizations have fallen under god-born grays. There’s a crater in Northern Sebrak with the last known gray witch’s name on it, for fuck’s sake. The barrens in the south arebarrenand haunted by revenants because of a gray.”

“I’m not what you think,” I insisted.

“I don’t yet know you, but I know history,” Ruchel ground out. “I’ve studied it for most of my life. There’s not a gray witch in all of the texts who didn’t murder countless—”

“But we don’t all make history,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Believe what you want of me, but my baby sister was a god-blooded gray witch too. Yet you’ve never even heard of Lisbeth. She lived and died a sweetheart, and she won’t make a single page in any of your scribe texts for it. She was so considerate of life, when moths got into her fabric, she caught them in jars and set them free outside. Lisbeth just wanted to feed street children and dance at festivals and make pretty things. She never ruled over an army of the undead or feasted on the souls of her enemies or . . .”

Lisbeth never would have attempted to turn the entire city of Kosh to ash. She was the better of us. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I blinked them back.

“I am sorry for your sister,” Ruchel said gently, “but that doesn’t mean—”

“I won’t hurt you,” I vowed, scowling up at her. “I’m not after armies or kingdoms or riches, and I’ve no interest in eating either of your souls. I may have god blood, but I don’t have god ambition. The only person who has anything to fear from me now is the deity responsible for murdering Lisbeth. Ruchel, look at me and tell me I’m lying. You’re a mind witch. Who could fool you?”

Ruchel chewed at her cheek. Nola’s brows lifted toward her hairline, waiting on her partner’s answer. I held my breath, eager for the same.

“You’re not lying,” she said softly.

Nola climbed to her feet and lowered her blade.

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