A shadow fell over them, cloaking the ground in darkness as it soared high above the towering treetops. Oralia glared up at the gray sky to determine what manner of beast was swooping in slow circles overhead. She gasped, the sudden breath catching in her singed throat, as her eyes widened, taking in the mighty beast. She had seen Whisper’s dragon form once before. It was no less impressive the second time. The sight of the dragon worsened the queasiness of Oralia’s stomach.

  Their side desperately needed Whisper’s help, yes, but it was exactly what the realm had been waiting for all along. Despite Oralia’s efforts to thwart him, Geralt Lazuli’s trap had worked. Everything Geralt wanted was within his grasp—Rasp, Whisper, and herself. All Geralt had to do was sit back and trust that his second in command, Tarathiel Cray, had the competence to seal his victory.

  Mul stood on the other side of Sascha with his head craned skywards, watching the blue dragon circle above. His brow was furrowed in confusion. “What’s the beast doing?”

  “Drawing the enemy away.” Although Oralia did not know for certain, it was the only explanation that made sense. She had seen Whisper in the heat of battle once before, and this was certainly not that. The fae was blatantly biding their time, keeping the enemy distracted with slow, meandering movements while the rest of the rebellion fighters scrambled into position.

  It was a commendable effort. Particularly for Whisper, someone who did not readily put themselves in harm’s way for the sake of mortals. But all the selflessness in the world did not make up for the fact that this was exactly what Cray wanted.

  A warm hand enveloped Oralia’s fingers and squeezed. “It’s not over yet.” Sascha, once more, proved capable of reading her thoughts. “We can still win this.”

  “There is no ‘we’ in this,” Oralia replied. “Not anymore. Our part is done. You and I will join the injured and ensure they are evacuated safely.”

  The bastard laughed. Not just any laugh, either, but one of those snorting chuckles he did whenever Oralia imparted something particularly humorous. This case, as with nearly every other case, had been uttered by complete accident. Oralia ran through her prior statement over again, checking for any unintentional double meanings, but found none.

  “I fail to see the humor in my statement,” she said.

  Sascha smiled. “It wasn’t so much the humor as it was the blatant naivety.”

  “Don’t worry, big fella.” Mul wore an equally stupid grin. “She’ll get there soon enough.”

  There wasn’t time to stop and play a game of verbal ring-around, but, alas, neither of them was making a lick of sense. Oralia clicked her tusks at Sascha in annoyance. “Explain.”

  “Moonflower, my love, we both know you’re not going anywhere.” Sascha paused before correcting himself, “Well, I know you’re not going anywhere. You haven’t realized it yet, but you will. Soon enough, as Mul said.”

  Mul opened his mouth to agree, but the words turned to ash on his tongue as something at Oralia’s back caught his attention. Confused, she glanced over her shoulder and watched as Rali and Rasp neared. The latter wasn’t being led by the arm so much as he was being dragged by it. A fact he didn’t take too kindly to, considering the constant stream of complaints pouring from his mouth.

  Rali marched on, undeterred. “Alright, boss. I’ve got the witch. You’ve got the stud. Let’s make some magic!”

  “Why can’t I be the stud?” Rasp asked miserably.

  Rali was right. She and Sascha would have be on the move soon if they wanted to keep pace with Briony’s evacuation party, but Oralia still had to get to the bottom of whatever the big lug was beating around the bush about first. She fixed him with her fiercest scowl. “Do not ‘Moonflower’ me, Sascha Yukah. I do not know what you are babbling on about, but I intend to be at your side every step of the way.”

  Sascha smiled, but it was regret, not glee, that wrinkled around his soulful eyes. “No. You won’t be.”

  “You cannot walk unassisted, and I am the only one strong enough to assist you.”

  He shrugged. “Snag will give me something for the pain.”

  “It will not get you far.”

  “It will get me far enough.” The sadness in his eyes bled into the rest of his expression. “Swear to me you will come back.”

  “Sascha, this is madness. I do not have to fight.”

  “You do,” he said sadly. “Oralia, we already discussed this. The whole reason you came here was to fight. You can’t throw in the towel now.”

  “Watch me.”

  “My dear, I do not mean that metaphorically. You literally, physically, cannot give up. Every bone in your body was born stubborn. Fighting is what you were meant to do,” Sascha said. “And even if you didn’t, even if you stayed back, went against your nature, it wouldn’t matter, because you would never be the same. If things go badly today, you would spend the rest of your years kicking yourself for not picking up the sword one last time.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  She didn’t know how to respond, mostly because the bastard was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

  Sascha cupped her chin in his other hand. “I would rather lose you doing this than watch you waste away, devoured by guilt.”

  “But the baby…”

  “Which is why you’re going to swear to come back in one piece.”

  That was it. The end of the discussion. No follow-up. No rejoinder. No ‘I love you, you can do this, please, for the love of the gods, don’t get yourself killed!’ For the first and possibly last time in their relationship, Sascha had gotten the final say.

  Oralia wanted to argue, but the stubborn words refused to form.

  Sascha squeezed her hand one last time and smiled before turning to greet the approaching witch. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is this the same boy who stabbed me with a potato peeler?”

  Rasp reached for the blade strapped to his side. “Forget the peeler, he’s got a sword now! Looking for a rematch?”

  Rali bumped Rasp with her hip so forcefully that it nearly bowled him over. “You’re here to save, Sascha, remember? Not kill him.”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Rasp replied.

  “No. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply. Else, you want Oralia here to strangle you.”

  Rasp’s resulting smile implied that he still very much wanted that.

  Regrettably, there wasn’t time to wipe the smile from his face with her fist. Ashwyn came bounding up to join the excitement like a puppy full of nervous energy. “Snag said to give you this,” she delivered a handful of dried leaves to Sascha. “You’ve got to chew it for it to work. From personal experience, it’s best to get it down as quick as possible. The taste is vile. The effects are good, though. Kinda bummed I don’t get to hold your hand through your first trip.”

  Rasp squinted up at Ashwyn with his nose wrinkled in confusion. “Who’s this?”

  “No one,” Oralia replied.

  “Ashwyn, Ra-Ra’s rebellious, fun-loving sister.” Ashwyn seized Rasp by the hand and shook with enough gusto to nearly lift him off his feet. “By default, I think that makes me co-protector of the realm.”

  “It does not,” Oralia assured her.

  “You’re the Stoneclaw witch, right? The youngest?” Ashwyn carried on as her nerves got the better of her, talking right over the top of Rasp before he had the chance to answer. “I’m the baby of the family, too. I’m looking forward to putting my older sister to shame. How about you? Gonna show up the big guy?”

  Rasp’s face pinched. “Who?”

  “Your brother. He seems to be hiding behind Sascha at the moment, fervently gesturing at me to stop talking for some reason. Sorry mate,” Ashwyn called to Mul. “Didn’t mean to ruin your surprise. My bad.”

  Rali gave Rasp’s arm an ungentle shake. “There will be no vengeance on family members until after Sascha is magically lifted from the pit. Understood? Now, the sooner you get that done, the sooner you can bust Mul’s face in. What do ya say?”

  Oralia did not like the idea of entrusting Sascha’s life in the boy’s hands, but there was no mistaking his power. She’d witnessed firsthand what he’d done with the roof. Biting back her reservations, she and Ashwyn helped heave the big lug to his feet.

  Rasp searched the ground in front of him with his foot as he approached, still speaking to Rali. “For the record, I don’t seek vengeance anymore. I’m a bigger person now.”

  The older brother, as expected, sank his teeth right into the bait. “Yeah? Still look pretty shrimp-sized to me.”

  Rasp followed the voice to its source. A shark-like smile pulled at his lips, revealing a mouth with more teeth than Oralia remembered. Rasp said nothing, unlike his smile, which said, ‘Should have kept quiet, idiot’.

  The old Rasp would have launched into a fist fight then and there. The man who stood before Oralia, however, had indeed grown, both in restraint and magical ability. Rasp hooked arms with Sascha and, with the mere sweep of his hand, summoned a gust of wind to lift them free of the pit. Rali scrambled after them, shouting directions on where to land as Sascha had gone catatonic with fright. To Oralia’s relief, the pair landed safely on firm ground alongside Briony and Sergeant Windshot.

  Briony. Suddenly, Oralia realized she’d forgotten something.

  “Briony, wait,” Oralia heaved herself up over the side after them. Her feet dug into the dirt, searching for purchase, before she clawed her way up, one fistful of loose dirt at a time. Reaching the top, she reached into the front of her tunic and slipped her pendant necklace from around her neck.

  The brown and tan faun stared at the proffered powerstone with wide, amber eyes. “Me?”

  Cunning, underhanded, and built with a spine of steel, Briony had proved herself more than capable. Oralia could not think of anyone more qualified for the task. “It has no place on the battlefield.”

  “Oh, good.” Reluctantly, Briony accepted the pendant and tucked it safely in the confines of her front pocket. “Just what every girl wants. A cursed magical artifact.”

  “I trust you will keep it from harm.” Oralia’s gaze shifted to Sascha, silently adding with a pained smile, ‘As you will do with him’.

  Briony snorted her disgust before commanding the evacuation party to be off. There would be no further dithering on her watch, she proclaimed. The brown and tan faun took Sascha’s hand and, casting one final, pitiful look over her shoulder at those staying behind, led him away between the trees. Oralia watched them go, refusing to look away until the pair was swallowed by distance.

  Snag padded up beside her. “I don’t mean to rush us to our untimely deaths, but we’ve got a problem.”

  Oralia was certain they had more than one, but humored him nonetheless. Instead of words, she merely raised her eyebrows at him.

  Snag timidly pointed to the sky. “We’ve got a second dragon incoming.”

  There wasn’t time for heartfelt speeches or elaborate plans. The trap had been sprung, and, like the rats in the basement, they would have to do their best to skirt around it without getting their tails caught. “Move.” Oralia broke into a trot, catching Rasp by the arm and pulling him into step alongside her. “Cray is going to use his dragon to defeat Whisper. He will try to keep us pinned down with his remaining witches, but do not be fooled. He is the one we need. Take down Cray, and his defenses fall apart.”