CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

“No,” Priscilla whispered. “Jakob.”

The crying grew unbearably shrill. Broken, anguished sobs wracked her body and grated against Luna’s ears, making it hard to focus. She could only pray that the real King Jakob was far away as she poured every drop of energy she had into her illusion of the king’s body, an imaginary shadow arrow protruding out of his chest.

If it had been anyone else, Luna would have felt terrible. But not her—not now. Luna felt powerful, more than she had ever been in her entire, helpless life. Something warm settled in her stomach. Satisfaction.

Everything has a price, Mother.

Priscilla had held Luna’s life in her hands for so many years. But no longer.

Luna would make her pay.

She hoped that the image of Jakob’s dead body would be forever seared into Priscilla’s mind. She hoped it would haunt her every time she closed her eyes. She hoped it would cause her as much pain as she had caused Asterin. She hoped it would drive her over the edge.

Luna pressed a hand to her mouth and staggered away from her masterpiece, rounding on Priscilla. “What have you done?” she cried. “He came back for you, and you killed him!”

To Luna’s everlasting delight, her mother flinched. “I—I didn’t do anything!” Priscilla cowered beneath Luna’s disgusted stare. “I have no idea how … It was an accident. Jakob, forgive me!” she wailed. “Oh, my love, forgive me—”

“It’s no use now, you witch,” Luna spat. “He’s dead!”

Priscilla howled, burying her face in her hands.

“Luna,” Asterin said, voice hoarse. Her hands clutched desperately at Quinlan’s wounds, the cut on her own face still dribbling gray sludge. “The dark magic … his pulse is getting weaker and weaker. He’s dying, Luna, and I can’t heal him.”

“You can,” Luna whispered ferociously. “I know you can. You must.”

At the sound of their voices, Priscilla’s neck swiveled toward them. She pointed a gnarled claw at Asterin, her eyes rimmed with crimson. “This is all your fault,” Priscilla rasped, every word laced with fury. “I will end you.”

Luna screamed as Priscilla fired a shadow arrow, aimed straight for Asterin’s heart.

It stopped not an inch short of its destination.

“Or better yet,” Priscilla said, eyes glittering as they flicked from Quinlan to Luna, something truly ugly overtaking her expression. “I will break you.”

And before Luna could comprehend her meaning, two black masses slithered from Priscilla’s palms toward them. One leapt at her, and the other at Quinlan, slipping beneath their chins and yanking them upward.

The coil of shadow only tightened around her neck as Luna struggled, Quinlan hanging limp beside her.

Fight, Luna. You’re better now. She kicked and screamed, fighting the darkness creeping upon her.

For Asterin, she fought.

Asterin’s words echoed in her head. I sure as hell won’t lose you to her.

For Asterin, Luna refused to break.