CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

King Jakob inhaled sharply, stopping just behind Asterin and Luna.

Luna’s face paled. “What?”

“You kept this from me,” said the king, expression shuttering.

“You said you never wanted a child!” Priscilla cried.

Luna barked a sarcastic laugh. “What a lovely family reunion.” She curtsied to King Jakob. “Father.” And then without warning, she rammed a dozen arcs of light into Priscilla’s shield.

Stepping away from Quinlan, still unconscious at her feet, Asterin shook off her own surprise and summoned her magic. Together, she and Luna bombarded Priscilla with ice and light, reducing her shield to tatters.

“Jakob, help!” Priscilla shrieked again.

The King of Ibreseos stared at her.

And then he took a step back.

Priscilla let out an anguished wail of betrayal. “How could you?” she shrilled. “I did anything and everything you asked of me! The reason I came to this damned kingdom in the first place, the reason I even began practicing dark magic—”

“I never asked you to do any of those things,” Jakob thundered. “You were starving for more power. You were starving for the throne. You couldn’t kill the heiress of your own House, so you stole another one instead. You’ve pushed yourself past the brink, Priscilla, and I will not fall with you. After you killed Elyssa over a misinterpretation—”

“Elyssa,” Asterin whispered, the name lighting some abyss deep inside of her. “Elyssa,” she repeated, her magic petering out. “I—I know that name.”

Jakob’s expression softened. “You look exactly as she did, all those years ago.”

Asterin’s heart stuttered. “You mean …”

“Yes, child,” he said gruffly. “She was your mother.”

“And you …” Asterin trailed off. “You knew her?”

Jakob swallowed. “She was once one of my dearest friends.”

“And Priscilla killed her.”

The king’s jaw clenched. He dipped his chin once.

Without another word, Asterin thrust out her hand and launched a volley of ice spears at Priscilla, their razor tips glimmering with jagged rage. Priscilla screeched and conjured shadows to deflect the attack, but one spear made it past her shield and struck her across the shoulder, leaving a ragged slash.

With a gasp of pain, Asterin stumbled backward, one hand gripping her own shoulder. No weapon had struck there, nothing at all, and yet bright red droplets streamed through her fingers, splattering on the floor. Where did that come from?

“Asterin!” Luna cried.

“Jakob,” Priscilla wailed.

The king shook his head. “Forgive me, but this is not my fight. I have no business here.” Then he spun on his heel, vanishing through the exit.

“Luna, do you see how he treats me?” Priscilla panted, staggering toward them. “The person who loves him most? You can say whatever you want about me, but I love you like no one else ever will. I’m your mother. We’re family—”

“You may be my mother,” Luna whispered in a voice that promised terrifying wrath, “but you will never be my family.”

Priscilla gaped at the rejection, poison building behind her expression.

Asterin summoned a second volley of ice, but hands closed around her wrists and she turned to find Quinlan behind her. She hadn’t even noticed him awaken. “Don’t,” he said. His next words came in a messy, inarticulate cascade. “You can’t injure her. Reflective spell. Like the ropes from Harry’s traps. She’s cast it on herself. If you attack her, it will rebound.” His fingers hovered over her shoulder. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. Haelein.”

“What are we going to do?” Asterin breathed as her wound closed up.

“Why can’t we just cast reflective spells on ourselves?” asked Luna.

Asterin shook her head. No one had tutored Luna before, so she wouldn’t know. “It’s only possible to cast such a spell on inanimate objects. That is, unless you use shadow magic.”

“Luna,” said Quinlan, distracting Priscilla with a swarm of fire arrows, hot enough to redden his skin from her reflective spell, but not burn. “Can you buy us some time with your illusions? We might be able to do Priscilla some damage and heal ourselves at the same time. Even then, there’s no way to get a kill shot unless one of us …”

“I have an idea,” Luna said. “If it doesn’t work …” She shook her head. “Either way, I’ll handle it.”

Something in her voice told Asterin exactly what she meant by handle.

She grasped Luna firmly by the shoulders. “I’ve lost enough already to Priscilla,” Asterin growled, forcing her friend to meet her gaze. “And I sure as hell won’t lose you to her, too.”

“Always, Asterin,” Luna whispered. “I’ll always stay by your side. You are my family. I will always choose you.”

Asterin swallowed the thick knot in her throat. “So what’s your idea?”

Before she could answer, however, Quinlan let out a curse and Asterin looked up just in time to watch a shower of dark arrows rain down upon them. Quinlan shielded them from the worst of it, but one arrow slipped past his defenses, slicing him all the way from his wrist to his elbow.

Priscilla cackled and conjured a second barrage. Quinlan grimaced, the deep gouge leaking black sludge down his arm.

Without thinking, Asterin’s fingers brushed over the wound. “Haelein.” She watched his skin mend. Yet to her utter disbelief, it reopened not moments later. “Haelein,” she said again. And again, and again, but to no avail. “Quinlan, I can’t heal it.”

“What do you mean?” he said, still focused on blocking Priscilla’s arrows.

Fear surged through her veins at the breathy rasp of his voice, the bluish-gray pallor of his skin. “Quinlan, you have to stop!”

“I’m fine,” he panted, every inhale growing more laborious.

Priscilla grinned at them from the other side of Quinlan’s shield, its strength waning with every blow. The woman’s tongue darted over her teeth, as if she could already taste victory.

Quinlan fell to his knees. Asterin lunged for him. She had no plan, no idea how to help. Perhaps … perhaps, if she could somehow let him borrow her power, let their magic fuse into one …

Exhaling, she laced her fingers with his, imagining her magic flowing through their connection and into him. Slowly, a current like the one she had felt when they had chased Priscilla hummed through her and fueled the weakening inferno beside her. She willed the shield to become more powerful.

And to her wondrous awe, it did.

Only, the arrows kept coming. Asterin felt each blow to the shield like a punch to the gut. How Quinlan had managed on his own for this long was beyond her comprehension.

The shield wavered, and Asterin looked up just in time to watch an arrow sail through and strike Quinlan, tearing into his abdomen and halfway out his back.

“No!” Asterin shouted.

The grip on her hand fell slack and his body sagged to the ground, his eyes slipping shut again.

The shield flickered out.

Asterin swore, releasing Quinlan’s fingers and pushing her palms outward with all her might to defend against the unrelenting arrows. Priscilla pummeled her shield without mercy, and Asterin could only manage to throw up small shells of magic to deflect the worst of the storm.

Her only remaining hope was Luna, crouched at Asterin’s side with her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

“Luna,” Asterin gasped. “If you’ve got anything planned—”

“Give me a moment.”

Asterin missed an arrow. It landed dangerously close to Quinlan’s unmoving form. Then she missed a second, a third. Her arms might as well have been made of lead. Every muscle burned.

Her legs gave out and she crashed to the ground. With a grunt, she deflected three arrows aimed for her chest, but a fourth skimmed her face.

Pain exploded from her cheek, an acidic burn eating through her flesh. Her vision blotted. How did Quinlan endure this agony for so long?

Another arrow glanced off the surface of Asterin’s shield and ricocheted upward. With a last, feeble crackle, the shield faded.

Asterin had nothing left to give. She closed her eyes, wondering if her death would be swift, but realized Priscilla would never let her go that easily. She understood what Quinlan had meant back in the forest—that it was never a mercy to be at another’s mercy. It only means you will suffer longer.

But death did not come.

Instead, Asterin heard a sob. When she opened her eyes, tears cascaded down Priscilla’s face, her lips moving in a silent, futile plea.

Asterin turned, trembling from exhaustion.

Behind her, King Jakob’s body lay splayed out across the floor. One hand gripped the shaft sticking out of his chest, blood seeping between his fingers.

His heart—pierced by a single black arrow.

Beside Asterin, Luna smiled.