Page 89 of A Reign of Roses
Until one tendril of my darkness grasped her sword, and I wrenched her toward me, her feet skidding through the snow-covered grass until she landed against my chest. She was weakening, I could see it in the fading glimmers of her power.
Our rushed breaths mingled as I held her close, twin puffs of steam in the cold air.
And just like that, a flash of potent heat—not unpleasant, but not comfortable, either—bloomed against my chest. I peered down to find Arwen’s hand pressed against my heart. Dainty rays of lighte tickling my tunic. Singing the fibers.
“Interesting.” I hummed.
Arwen had a deeper well of power than even another full-blooded like myself could access. I’d sworn she’d been losing steam, but being cornered only allowed her to unleash a buried strength perhaps even she hadn’t known she had.
Arwen wrenched her sword free and I released her, throwing out twin ropes of obsidian, satisfaction and adrenaline thrumming in my blood, until they met Arwen’s raised blade and the air itself rippled. Our energy was a near-blinding clash of shadow and sunlight.
“Holy Stones.”
Arwen’s blade, twined in that vibrant, sunny fire, halted an inch from my cords of shadowed thorn. I yanked the shadowed tendrils back into my hands just in time and stumbled to a halt.
The crisp, winter wind scented of cinnamon and cloves, and I whirled in the direction of Arwen’s eyeline, following the sound of Leigh’s exclamations and my commander’s hurried footsteps.
Mari stood there, draped in a warm green cloak with a fur hood. Her eyes locked onto Arwen’s in shock as Leigh scrambled up from the ground to wrap the witch tightly around the middle. Griffin appraised Mari with a hesitant nod, which she barely acknowledged. But Mari, even with her arms wrapped around Leigh, couldn’t stop staring at the sweat-drenched, red-cheeked vision across from me.
Leigh’s sword—the one Arwen had been using—landed softly in the snow as Arwen crossed the training annex for her friend.
“I didn’t believe it,” she murmured. “You cannot imagine the noise I made when I got the letter,” Mari said, arms still gripped around Leigh’s back, eyes still glued to Arwen.
Arwen’s smile was soft. “I probably can; I was there when you found that squirrel in the apothecary.”
Mari laughed around her awe, and somewhere behind us Dagan chuckled at the memory, too.
Leigh finally released Mari just as Arwen swallowed the witch into a hug, her face diving into a mess of snowy red curls.
Moments passed as the women held each other, shaking silently with the onslaught of emotion.
I was pretty sure Barney was crying. Griffin had found his scabbard very compelling, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It had been too long since any of us had experienced so many instances of joy, and in such quick succession.
Eventually Arwen released her friend with a sniffle. “How have you been?”
“Better.” Mari grinned. “Much better. All better actually, now that you’re alive.”
I exhaled into the brisk morning air. Griffin found my gaze and nodded in similar relief.
“Welcome home,” I said to the witch.
“It’s been too long, Red.” Ryder waved at her from the grass.
“This is Beth,” Barney said to her. “She has visions.”
Beth didn’t smile and Mari’s brows knit inward. “All right, great. Hello, Beth,” she said warmly. “It’s so good to be home.”
Dagan huffed. “The library’s a mess.”
“Of course it is,” Arwen said, taking her friend’s hand. “Nobody can run that place like Mari.”
The witch only faced Arwen again, eyes warm and a little tired. “Forget how I am. How areyou? How’s…not being dead?”
Leigh frowned up at her, and Mari shrugged.
But Arwen only released a wet laugh, gaze painting over the wintry annex—Dagan and his begrudging smile, Griffin with his folded arms, her brother, her sister…the bluebells, the fresh snow, Barney and Beth, and my steadfast eyes upon hers.
“You know, Mari, I can’t complain.”
