“The others are going to let you do that?” Vance asked.
“I wasn’t planning to ask permission. Once I’m done helping the sakkri set the illusion spells, it won’t matter if I slip away.”
“You won’t be able to go through the front gate,” Vance pointed out, fiddling with a bandage on his arm. His blood and Alejandra’s had both gone into the spell. “Within minutes of the start of the attack, the fire there will be impassable.”
“There is a back door,” I explained. “It’s used to bring in large shipments of supplies or to haul out corpses. I think Nathaniel is planning to use it to enable Aislinn to escape after she starts the riot in the south wing.” Nathaniel hadn’t actually shared that detail with anyone, probably for the same reason I hadn’t told anyone I planned to rescue Gabriel’s beloved “Ashley.” This plan rested on our allies believing us that any slave rescued from Midnight would be a paving stone that would help the trainers rebuild. We couldn’t make that argument, then turn around and explain exceptions. But I could tell he cared more about Aislinn than he let on.
“Isn’t that the door that Kral is going to be guarding?” Kadee asked. That particular shapeshifter was, thankfully, not staying with the Shantel. He apparently fell into the group Nathaniel considered too bloodthirsty to safely reside with the rest of us for weeks. “Will he let you by?”
I shrugged. “I’m sure he won’t let me, but I’ll get by.”
I doubted Kral would hesitate to shoot me if he saw me coming out that door, but that was the crux of the issue: if he saw me. I would be concealed by a combination of my own magic and the sakkri’s. If I could avoid the fire, I thought I could slip into Midnight and back out past Kral without his even noticing I was there.
“Do you need backup?” Kadee asked.
“Absolutely not,” I replied vehemently. “I need you somewhere safe.” She bristled, about to protest that she could handle herself, so I continued quickly. “I know you can hold your own in a fight. I know you’re quick on your feet and you’re clever. But you don’t have wings, and if I need to escape fast, I’ll probably go by air.”
“Hara won’t be able to—”
I cut her off. “I won’t die for Hara,” I said flatly. “I would give my life before I ran and left you to burn, or Vance, but I won’t make the same sacrifice for a cobra.”
I waited for her to fight me, but instead, her argumentative expression dissolved, replaced by something more sentimental. A child of Obsidian generally looked out for himself first, and others second. But I meant what I had said: I had lost too many already. I wouldn’t lose Vance or Kadee, not if I could help it.
Vance reached over and squeezed my hand.
For a minute, we all sat in silence. Finally, Kadee asked me, “You still can’t see anything about our future?”
“No,” I said. “I just end up looking at the past instead.”
If we couldn’t completely crush Midnight, their retaliation would be swift and horrific. And if we did win, what next? The target of Misha’s wrath would be gone, and I didn’t know how that would affect her. Empowered by prophecy and success, would she get stronger, perhaps even becoming a queen to be proud of? Or would she unravel as her last purpose was taken from her?
When it was time for sleep, I stretched my bedroll out not far from the fire. Kadee and Vance lay close enough that I could have rolled over and touched either one of them. I could feel Vance’s warmth barely inches from my back, and when I closed my eyes, I could hear his rapid heartbeat.
At least for now, as we all faced an uncertain future, we rested like serpiente, comforting each other with our nearness.
“I WOULD LIKE to see you again.”
Alasdair hesitated. She hated pulling out of his arms, but she knew perfectly well that she should never have been there in the first place.
If she had ever met a man like Gabriel before, she hadn’t known it. She was an avian lady, the younger daughter of the queen. Even the serpiente she had met had always been respectfully restrained, though she had been told that among their own kind they were bold, proud, and prone to emotional displays.
Gabriel had been polite and courteous, but never hesitant or shy. He had offered to be her protector when she was still too exhausted to take her hawk’s form and fly home. They had dinner, then went dancing in a small hall with none of the grace and beauty of her home but all of the rowdy energy she had never known humans possessed. By the time she had the physical strength to leave, it was the last thing she wanted to do.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, unable to keep the regret from her voice. She had responsibilities at home, not to mention suitors who were better matched to her station.
This had been a diversion—a scandalous one at that. It could never be more.
—
Red sky at night, sailors’ delight, I thought as the sun sank on the evening of the fall equinox.
I was pretty sure this was another piece of drivel I had picked up from Misha, and so from her trainer, but I couldn’t get it out of my head as I watched the orange and crimson streaks stretch across the sky through the treetops.
As the day of the attack drew near, I had finally been able to see some of what would happen tonight, but only in incoherent flashes of fire. That was how I knew the sky right then was the exact color human flesh would burn when touched by our magic.
I couldn’t decide if I preferred the visions of charring flesh or the occasional glimpses of Alasdair’s early infatuation with the man who would later enslave her. She had thought Gabriel human, and assumed he had no idea who she was. I was sure he had recognized her the moment she stepped out of the alley.
Now, in the Shantel forest, Nathaniel had gathered his allies one last time before the attack. Kadee and Vance had both been sent back to the Shantel village; they wouldn’t be involved in the final, dangerous slaughter.
Looking around, I counted thirteen of us, including the mercenary who had brought us all together.
Nathaniel drew a deep breath, and reviewed our plan one last time.
“Shevaun, Adjila. You two are on the properties outside Midnight proper: the greenhouse, the di’Birgetta estate, Taro’s and Varick’s homes, Gabriel’s home in Dockside and Jeshickah’s estate—watch yourself, there’s at least one witch guarding that last one.” He looked to me, and added, “Stay clear of the village and the farms. We’re leaving them for the shapeshifters to scavenge.”
They each nodded, even Shevaun holding her normally acerbic tongue.
“The sakkri and Malachi are responsible for the illusion spell that will keep the rest of us from being noticed. Keyi and Alejandra will be with them by the front entrance to sustain the fire spell. Lila and Jager, you’re to their right side; Sara and Averill, you’re to their left. Kral, you’re on the back entrance with me. Cut down anyone who attempts to flee the building, and keep the trainers busy when they come out to fight. We need to keep them off the magic users as long as possible.”
“If the trainers engage us,” Sara asked, “can we defend ourselves?”
“Once I have Jaguar in my line of sight, I can control him,” Alejandra answered. “He at least will not be a threat to you.”
“I’m more concerned about Jeshickah,” Sara remarked. “If it’s her or me, I’ll kill her.”
With a glance to our employer, Nathaniel replied, “It won’t be her or you. It will be you or your entire line. I can’t make that decision for you, but I know you’ve been working on spells that will incapacitate a vampire instead of killing. I advise you use them.
“Are we ready?” Nathaniel asked.
Silence reigned for what felt like eternity, and then the sakkri spoke once more.
“The black knight moves into check,” she said, her gaze resting on Nathaniel. “The crimson queen screams. His heart rests inside the ash, smoke, and fire, rising to the sky on angel wings.”
I saw Nathaniel’s frame go tense as piano wire, and saw the mu
scles in his jaw tighten as he fought down what could only be questions.
The sakkri addressed each of us in turn, speaking her prophecy as she walked the circle.
To Shevaun and Adjila, she said, “Your path is wrought with blood, future and past. A human woman, a screaming child. The silent heart beats again.”
Next she turned to Kral. “Never your dream to rise. Though spells keep you young for centuries, never your home to see again. An empire to build, power is slick as raindrops, sliding…see your eyes in a woman’s face. She is your weakness, and ever will be.”
Kral scoffed audibly, but the sakkri did not seem to care as she turned to Alejandra.
“Seek him,” she whispered. “Born of the same mother whatever blood runs through each now; seek him. And then beware, for the path you walk leads to darkness, until your death at a loving hand.”
When she spoke to Keyi, she did so in the falcon’s native language, flawlessly, as if her prophecy knew the tongue the sakkri herself did not. “Eight times eight moves to make, spaces to stand, but yours is a path of blood and in the end the white pawn falls from the board. Catalyst. Illusion is your art as you play the game ruled by the white lady. The rules bend.”
When she came to me, she rested a hand on my wrist and said, “She returns, the golden queen. An instant to live, an instant to die, paths of threads, twisted around in your own magic so I cannot read them. I am sorry.”
I rocked back from the prophecy. Alasdair. Who else could “the golden queen” mean? But the prophecy told me nothing new. I already knew I would get Alasdair out, no matter what it took.
Focused on my own thoughts, I lost track of the sakkri’s words until she spoke to Jager. Though my thoughts were reeling, I struggled to listen because I sensed that he represented the future we had just chosen. “Yours is the empire that will rise,” the sakkri said. “In chaos. In…mayhem. In freedom. Rule carefully. Recall this evening. No one will save you, if the world seeks to burn your realm.”
She turned to stare into the fire as she raised her voice and said to all of us, “Some of you do not believe in prophecy, so my words are meaningless to you. Some of you will heed my words. Either way, the future is written. Now, Nathaniel, our black knight who leads us to destroy the tyrant…now we are ready.”
Nathaniel still looked shaken by the sakkri’s words. Clearly, his human slave meant more to him than he had expected when he bought her. It took him a moment to rally, and his voice was soft when he said, “Then it begins. Everyone move to your places.”
I had already said goodbye to Vance and Kadee. Kadee would be working at an encampment just inside Shantel territory, tending our wounded if they came in need of aid. I wondered how many of us were likely to be just injured without being killed outright, but I was glad to know I had a healer on my side if I needed her. I was even gladder to know that, if I survived tonight, I would have someone to go home to. Vance’s role in Nathaniel’s plan was over now—his magic wasn’t active enough to be of use in the attack, and his accuracy with a bow still left much to be desired—so he too remained behind to help Kadee and the others in any way he could.
Lucas, the Shantel’s ruling prince, joined our group of magic users, bringing the supplies we had previously prepared, and wishing us all good luck. Keyi, Alejandra, the sakkri, Lucas, and I walked in contemplative silence to the edge of Shantel land.
When the forest began to thin around us, the sakkri hesitated.
“You don’t have to do this,” Lucas said. His jaw was set in a hard line. I had not been privy to the arguments they must have had about this course of action, but I could imagine that they had been explosive. For as long as anyone could remember, the Shantel spirit-witch had never left her ancestral land. The only exception had been recently, when the younger sakkri had sacrificed herself to Midnight.
“Yes, I do,” the sakkri replied. “You should turn back now. The time approaches quickly, and our people will need you.”
“Lucas…” I couldn’t figure out how to put my thoughts into words. Thank you for sheltering all of us. Thank you for being prince of the first nation brave enough to stand against Midnight. I’m sorry for taking away your sakkri—again. “Take care of Kadee and Vance.”
He nodded.
The rest of us continued into Midnight’s woods under cover of deepening darkness. We didn’t dare take the road, for fear that one of Midnight’s guards would notice our movements. The moon was two days past full, but it wouldn’t have given enough light if we hadn’t been familiar with navigating through undergrowth with little to guide us but our instincts and powers. Keyi traveled just behind my left shoulder, following the path I set, but the sakkri and Alejandra needed no assistance.
We reached the forest edge, within sight of Midnight proper, a few hours before the established hour of the attack.
“My sister foresaw this,” the sakkri said. “I rejected her vision at first, because every law of our magic forbids violence or the shedding of blood, but now I know what she saw before she forced Lucas to sell her to the vampires. The path where we sold Shane to Midnight is dark and oppressive as far into the future as I can see.”
“And the path where your sister forced us to sell her?” I asked, almost dreading the answer.
“That is the path we walk,” the sakkri answered, staring into the distance. “On this path, the Shantel allow their sacred sakkri to leave their forest and bloody her hands in battle. Thirteen archers rain fire down on an empire. I have already shared with you and the others everything I have been able to see. Beyond that, there is simply darkness. A future either veiled from me, or else unwritten.” She shuddered, her eyes focusing again as she pulled away from her power. “It is time. We must begin.”
Without further conversation, we went to work.
I normally used naturally occurring formations to focus my power, twining my spells into circles created by groves of trees or spills of boulders. Midnight didn’t have any such natural circle where we needed it, so we had to create our own. Numerous Shantel witches had helped craft, carve, and summon the fetishes we now placed around our would-be circle. As I held each, I could recall the one who had made it, and what its purpose was.
Some of the glyphs, statues, and symbols were designed to help conceal us. Some would seek to minimize wounds to our people. Others would make our vision keener, and our attacks more deadly. Over the course of two hours, we created five circles arranged in a ring around Midnight proper, casting them with our power and imbuing them with the ability to hide our people from sight for as long as possible.
One by one, the other archers joined us, except for the few—Adjila and Shevaun—whose tasks lay elsewhere. They would burn even Nathaniel’s home to the ground this night, though that was a matter of deflecting suspicion from him. His personal possessions and servants had already been moved to safe locations.
I could sense the magic wavering when it was nearly time.
I lifted my bow, and felt the crackle of power like static electricity imbued into the wood, the string, and most of all, into the arrow tips. Whatever they struck would catch fire, and the flames that resulted would devour anything they could reach, down to the very soil on which Midnight sat.
I waited, feeling the power of three different nations—falcon, Azteka, and Shantel—thrumming in the bow and using it to focus and calm myself. My work was mostly done. I had been needed to establish the circles so far from Shantel land, but the sakkri could maintain these illusions better than I, and if my shooting ended up being the difference between winning or losing today, it was already too late for us. I would stay long enough to make sure the fire at the front gates caught and no one would escape through those doors, but then I intended to go over the building by air to sneak in the back.
Now.
The signal seemed to whisper on the wind. Inside, if Aislinn and Alejandra had done their jobs right, the trainers and guards would be occupied subduing an inexplicable riot. We all hoped it
would take them several minutes to realize what was going on outside.
My arrow wasn’t the first, but it was one of the first to strike the ornate wooden door, spearing a carving of one of Jeshickah’s favorite hunting cats—a leopard.
Flames had barely begun to leap up when I drew another arrow. I was about to release it when I saw one of the shapeshifter guards—a crow—rise into the air, opening its beak to issue a warning. My arrow speared the black bird’s breast, and it fell onto the stone roof of the building, acting as tinder as magic turned its blood and sinew to fire.
The entire front entrance was soon ablaze, as well as several spots on the roof and nearby walls. I had already decided the third arrow would be my last when the door burst open and a figure stumbled out, wreathed in flames.
I recognized him. He was one of Midnight’s more despicable guards, fond of throwing his weight around, using his fists, and exerting the power the vampires had given him as fully as he could. I grinned as I nocked an arrow and aimed at him, but then I saw what he was holding.
In the guard’s arms was one of the smaller children from the nursery, a boy too young to walk on his own. My aim wavered. He knew. The bastard guard knew that any group that had assembled to fight Midnight probably wouldn’t include cold-blooded child-killers.
No arrows flew as the guard started stumbling, coughing, toward us. He stopped to beat furiously at a flame that had caught on his arms as he rushed through the burning doorway, but the fire only spread to his sleeve. Even if we had wanted to, none of us had the power to extinguish that devouring magic.
An arrow from my left speared the guard through the knee, sending him shrieking to the ground. The boy tumbled out of his arms, and sat where he landed, dazed. He was old enough to know not to move without permission, which meant he was too close to the guard. The fire would spread to him.
I aimed my arrow at the boy, knowing that it would be a more merciful end than the flames, but at first my hand shook too hard to ensure an accurate shot.
We had all agreed that slaves couldn’t be saved, that killing them would be a mercy, as well as the only way to ensure Midnight’s true destruction. But then my eyes picked up the traces of tears on his ash-stained cheeks.