Page 145 of Of Spindles and Nightfall
Mils and Ernon popped into existence in front of her. Thank the gods.
Ernon’s eyes grew round. He raced forward and removed the gag.
“Is Zarathos in the final trial?” Aryana asked.
Ernon and Mils exchanged a solemn glance. “Yes, he is, and it… it’s close,” Mils said.
“Time is short. Someone is on the way to Zarathos’s room to unite the scepter, and she has the magic she needs to get in and do it. Ernon, untie me.”
“On it.”
Mils folded her arms over her small chest and huffed. “What good is that going to do? You can’t move.”
“Mils, go to Zarathos’s bedchamber, get two vials of the Draught of Corruption. And a needle.”
The miniature imp’s eyes grew wide.
“See, I told you she was smart,” Ernon said, a grin on his face.
“Hurry.”
Mils nodded and disappeared.
“We can’t let her unite the scepter,” Ernon said, earnestly. “Even if Zarathos survives, it would only be another death sentence.”
“I’ll get it.” And then she’d save Zarathos. Having heard they’d drugged him before going into the trials made her stomach clench in fear. Gods, hopefully he’d manage to last a little longer.
Mils reappeared with two small vials of the Draught of Corruption clutched in her hands. “I got it. We must hurry. They were making their way into His Majesty’s bedchamber when I left.”
“Tell me to move, to regain feeling, to have enough energy to save Zarathos.”
With a quick nod, Mils unstoppered the vial and tipped it into Aryana’s mouth, repeating her words. “Remember,” she finished. “It will only work as long as the potion lasts.”
Aryana shut her eyes and felt the surge of adrenaline take over. She sprung to her feet and raced down the hall toward Zarathos’s room. While she ran, she unstopped the second vial of the suggestion potion and dipped the needle inside.
Now they would get a piece of their own medicine.
A bit of numbness tinged her limbs, reminding her this was only temporary, but she continued racing forward. She burst through the doorway into Zarathos’s chamber.
The shapeshifters spun, eyes wide. Neri had climbed onto the bed, the two parts of the scepter grasped in her hands.
Aryana lunged, coming up between the four shapeshifters before they could respond, and jabbed the needle into their skin. “You’re unconscious.”
And like that, the burly demons dropped to the floor.
She spun as the other shapeshifters tried to, but she dodged their blows and came up behind one, pricking his skin and then diving and slamming the needle into the last one’s calf. “You’re unconscious.”
The last two dropped to the ground.
Neri watched, fear slicing through her gaze as Aryana rose to her feet. “Hand over the scepter,” Aryana said.
“You’re too late,” Neri snarled and pointed the now fully connected scepter at Aryana’s chest.
Aryana tensed, waiting to be blasted across the room, or at least burned to ash.
Nothing happened.
After another moment of nothing occurring, Aryana stepped up onto the bed and grasped the scepter in her hand, jerking it from Neri’s grasp. “This is a demon scepter. I’m afraid it doesn’t respond to humans.” She ran a finger under the woman’s chin.
