Chapter Forty-Four

If Dante’s Inferno had ever come to life, Rebel imagined this would be it.

From across the Moon Court came the confused noise of magic going wrong. It was like nothing she’d ever seen. The now-skeleton Prince lost his balance, absent of muscles, and collapsed onto his throne, bone crashing against stone, his staff slipping from his fleshless fingers. His beauty no more. Shadows dispersed, and she heard the unmistakable clash of steel against iron. All hell filled the earthen ballroom as figures scattered in all directions.

In one fluid leap, Wulfram launched into midair—hanging there in an elongated moment before his form transmuted. Again, he was lycan, pelt bristling, fangs clashing together, plowing straight toward the Siren’s throat. Melusine sang a melody, and the mermen hit him squarely in the chest, sending them tumbling in a snarling jumble. With answering battle cries, guards and wolves charged the mermaids, who met them head-on, claws tearing, tridents slashing. Attacks were sent in the Siren’s direction, becoming the center of a lightning storm of fury.

A hand tugged Rebel’s arm through the cage.

“Hurry,” Anjeline called.

Before she could set into motion, a figure pivoted around a lycan and landed right in front of where her satchel was located. Her eyes snapped to Jaxon’s, unsure whether he would betray her again—alert the Siren, or possibly wrestle her for the vase. But Jaxon slid the bag across the floor to her, and he was once more swept up into the battle.

Anjeline’s hand squeezed her arm, cutting through her surprise. Rebel had no time to wonder at Jaxon’s help or whatever he was doing there. For now, they were being ignored by the chaos. Forgotten. The fight not about them anymore.

But that luck wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’m on it.” Rebel reached inside the cage with the key, feeling beyond the magic ward on the cage. With a click, the door opened. She buried her face in hair as Anjeline grabbed her and mumbled something into her shoulder. Then she felt the leash around her neck being removed.

“You’re bleeding?” Anjeline glanced down at Rebel’s ankle and the blood on her clothes, mostly Piran’s, staining her in crimson. “Your heart?”

“Just suffering from severe lack of kisses.”

That half smile appeared. “Not the time for idle banter. You need my energy.”

Rebel shook her head. “You lighting up will attract attention.” She glanced around. Lycanthropes and merfolk slashed away at each other. The Siren sang, or was trying to, as red-caps and guards flung themselves into the brawl. Strewn with bodies, the floor was soiled in blood, both red and emerald. Her eyes kept sight of the chaos, afraid the divine luck they were having would be gone in a second. She felt as if her heart could wait.

She snatched the vase from the cage, feeling the connection take hold, and shoved it in her bag. Anjeline gave a quick look over her shoulder and tensed. “Rebel, hope your heart can take more…”

A mermaid had broken away from the fighting mass, holding her stomach, and black eyes flicked up, looking straight into theirs. An arm came around the mermaid’s throat, and a switchblade pressed to her chest. Jaxon held her back and gave Rebel a wink. Then he mouthed a single word.

Run.

Rebel ran, straight and true, from the pandemonium.

With her sight on their destination, and Anjeline at her side, they zigzagged through the Court’s maze of different-colored corridors. The wolves inhabiting it before were back amid the skirmish. A dank passageway rose up before them, and they half flung themselves through it, Rebel daring anything to cross her path. Now she felt as if she knew every twist and turn of this Underground citadel. Her feet pounded and a humming coursed through her blood like a rhythm. Her magic.

As they reached the lycanthrope den, a muffled explosion rocked the walls.

The residue of blue and red blasts could hardly be seen behind them. The Night Guard must have finally noticed their absence and gotten past the doors and the elemental spheres Rebel had placed as a deterrent. Anjeline tugged her to keep moving. “They’re coming.”

Together, they flew dauntlessly through the passageway stairs and into the labyrinth of Metro tunnels. Shrieks and wailing of nearby trains approached. Rebel’s feet moved like firecrackers, her ankle throbbing from the bite, shooting up to her heart, while Anjeline barely appeared to have broken a sweat. Her breath stabbed at her lungs as she sucked in the stale air to reoxidize her blood. With every stride they took, the echo of growls sounded. Rebel spared a glance behind her, grateful the tunnel was still empty, but the noises crept to her core, as if the wolves were breathing on her neck.

If she never saw this place again, it would be too soon.

“That way.” Anjeline pointed.

At last, light spilled into the tunnel from a Metro station, and she managed a weak smile. Anjeline tugged her up the ladder hooks set into the stone wall, and they collapsed onto the station platform. A train rushed in, missing them by seconds. Stomping feet hurried past, and the crowd forced their way into the train as Rebel and Anjeline pushed through the throng of people. Some did double takes, not understanding what they were seeing: a fiery-eyed girl and a girl covered in blood. Paying little heed, they climbed the escalators and found their way to the upper-ground world.

The cold air hit Rebel.

The night sky circled above, sprinkled in diamond-shaped stars. Anjeline’s eyes met hers, and with fingers intertwined, they kept a speedy pace. Their freedom depending on quickening steps. And Lady Danu’s signal. Rebel lifted the flare from her bag. She pointed the baton-like object and squeezed. The tip blazed, illuminating—and something shot out of it.

Into the night, a glowing firefly zipped. It glinted as it spun and blurred through the sky, gone faster than a blink. Without a second to lose, they hurried in the direction it was bound for. Westminster Palace. The Sun Court. It would make it there within seconds, informing them she’d escaped with Anjeline, and then the Bright Guard would blow in.

Even so, by the time they reached the Court, the wolves would already be on their backs. Anjeline knew it, too. “The Court is a good ways. The Night Guard will scent us out before we reach it,” she said.

“If only we could fly.” Rebel’s breathing started to falter.

“But you could.” Anjeline looked at her. “Make a wish.”

Rebel’s brow narrowed, confused after all she’d witnessed with wishes and what came in their wake. “The consequence…”

“Won’t hurt you. Not your heart.”

“You said it must be selfless.”

“What’s more unselfish than you trying to protect me? Remember where your magic comes from.” Warmth pressed to her chest, and Anjeline’s hand was against her, feeling her pulse beating rapidly. “Trust me.”

For a moment, in the back of Rebel’s mind, a voice screamed at her that this wasn’t going to end well. But a fiery surge opened in her chest and she darted forward, kissing Anjeline. The contact jolted her with the courage she needed, as she knew it would.

Anjeline breathed out an exhausted chuckle. “When we make it out of here, I’m going to show you a real jinni’s kiss.”

“Promise?” Rebel’s insides enlivened.

She nodded. “Now make a wish.”

So Rebel did.

The citizens of the city were all sleeping in their beds, completely unaware of the war gathering below. Soon, the entire magical world would be hunting for them. A human with a disaster of a heart, and a jinni who wished for her own liberation. But they might as well have been hunting for the wind.

Rebel looked up at the sky. And wished for their safety.

To fly away.