I supposed I deserved it, in some sense.
But Kye didn’t.
“What do you mean, poisoned?” Wesley demanded.
I sucked in a thin breath, closing my eyes. “Kye was poisoned. The same poisons I used to use to…to kill people. On my mother’s orders.”
“So she killed Kye, too? What, to get to us? Or you, really?”
“I don’t know. Most of them aren’t very fast-acting. We might still have time, if we can find them, if I can…” If I could reverse it. But that required a precision I no longer possessed. My magic was raw and wild and dying.
And my mother was still out there. Every second I waited gave her time to regroup and plan her retaliation. I could go after her, end this while I still had the last of my strength and she was at her weakest. Or I could find Kye.
Kye might already be past helping. But it was Kye. My heart cracked at the thought of them at Sarafine’s mercy. Suffering.
The thought of their golden eyes, their smile, their voice, dying. Gone.
“Neyva,” Wesley barked, grabbing my attention again. “You’re the witch here. What are we doing?”
Kye needed help, but I’d never have a better chance to stop Mother. She’d killed Rayick, and he deserved to be avenged more than anybody I’d ever known. My anger swirled with what was left of my magic, pushing at it.
Once upon a time, I would have acted without another thought. It was the Morningspell way; nobody left us in such a condition. We didn’t let our enemies get away. We didn’t lose. But there were more important things in the world than revenge.
“I need you to find Morgana,” I said, forcing the fog out of my head. “Get her here, as quick as possible. I’m going to find Kye.”
I made it a step but he grabbed my arm. “Your sister is using Kye to lure you to her, you know that, right?”
I swallowed. “I know.”
“How long can you keep up like this?”
I had no idea. I could feel it eating at me; I didn’t have long, especially if I was going to try to manage another burst to attack Sarafine. “Long enough,” I answered.
He nodded, tense. “Good luck.”
I wanted to say more, because it could be the last time I ever saw that damned racoon. He wasn’t so bad, sticky fingers and sarcasm included. But I wasn’t sure what more to say, so I smiled the most reassuring way I could and darted for the front doors.
Most of the staff were still hidden away, knowing better than to come looking after the chaos that had erupted during the ritual. They feared enough working for a witching family; they wouldn’t dare interrupt us. But I half wished they would, if just for the familiarity. The house was dead-silent and icy cold, almost worse than the winter air that hit me when I rushed down the steps. Frost seeped into my feet, bare from the ritual, and snow spun through the air, biting at my shoulders. This was no weather for a dress like this—and what a sight I’d be, dirty, freezing, and with a bleeding cut on my chin.
I pushed away all thoughts of the cold or of the shakiness in my limbs. I ran toward the gates, toward the road where Idris was patrolling, assuming his glamour was in place. I shoved through the gates and looked both ways down the curving road, searching for any wandering guards. No one in sight.
“Idris!” I called, not caring about the risks now. Kye could be dead at any moment, and panic wanted to settle into me. I barely forced it back, barely kept my breathing even. “Idris!”
I didn’t have time to wait and hope; I picked a direction and ran, old stone digging into the soles of my feet, skirt tangling around my legs. Where was I going? Kye could be anywhere.
No, not anywhere. Sarafine had left the apple for me to find at the house, and it had to have been during or shortly before the ritual and my fight with Mother. She hadn’t had long to travel. And she wouldn’t leave Kye, not if she was using them to lure me out.
Horse hooves pounded ahead and a shadowy figure came into sight. I ducked aside but then the glamour shielding Idris rippled, wisps of familiar auburn hair visible, and he pulled his horse to a stop. “Is it done?”
“I need to get to Kye. Now.” No time for an explanation.
“Kye isn’t with you?”
“No. We don’t have time, I need to go.”
He didn’t hesitate; he held out a hand and pulled me onto the horse, and I wrapped an arm around his waist to steady myself. Blood roared in my ears. “Where are we going?” he asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t know, and I didn’t have time to search all of Acalta. Sarafine was using Kye to get to me, which meant she had them somewhere I could find. Somewhere I’d think of. Somewhere familiar.
Somewhere protected from the outside world, but easily accessible. Somewhere to store someone she’d sentenced to die.
“The Lady’s House,” I choked out. “The one the noble families use.” Idris flicked the reigns without a word and the horse took off. I gripped tight to keep from swaying. My stomach rolled.
The streets flew by in a blur, shadows and far-off lights streaking past. It didn’t help with my growing nausea, but I closed my eyes and forced each breath in and out. My magic writhed and the sensation sent little stabs of pain all over me.
“Hurry,” I managed. “The graveyard of the House. The noble crypts.”
The ride turned bumpier as the horse passed from road to uneven ground. Circled the towering House toward the graveyard. Raced and dodged between stones. When we reached the scattered crypts, Idris halted and I almost fell in my hurry to get off. My legs felt more like jelly than flesh and bone.
I raised a hand to stop him as he followed. “There are protections around our crypt. I don’t know what will happen to unwelcome visitors, but it won’t be good.”
“Aren’t you unwelcome now?”
“No.” I forced myself to stand tall even though my entire body wanted to collapse. The edges of my vision blurred and popped with stars. “She wants me here. Kye is just the bait.”
“Then you deal with her, I’ll get Kye out.”
“No.” He opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off. “Trust me, Idris. I’m the one person who can get Kye out. She’ll have made sure of it.”
“You can’t walk in there alone.”
“I can and I will. Find Wesley and Morgana and get them here. Morgana will be able to break the protections.”
He lingered, looking from me to the old crypt, but moved away. I didn’t wait for a goodbye, just started for my family’s crypt. My magic snarled as I stepped to the door, like it knew what was waiting inside. I steeled myself to find Kye already gone.
I didn’t know what I’d do if they were. If I was too late. My magic curled together at the thought, at the spike of terror it brought, as if readying itself to pounce.
Inside, the candles were lit. The moon shone through the one high window, making everything inside warped and eerie. The rows upon rows of my ancestors loomed from either side of me, like millions of eyes.
In the center, Sarafine stood in front of a coffin on a stand, drumming her long nails atop it like it was nothing more than an old table. I fisted my hands to keep them from shaking, but they wouldn’t stop. Every breath sent a wave of agony through me, every step less steady than the one before. I forced my chin to stay raised as I looked her in the eye. “Where are they?”
“You’re very pretty when you’re angry, Neyva, did you know?”
Another step. I thought I might collapse if I tried one more. “Where are they?” I demanded again.
Her lips curled into a cold smile and she moved to the side. “Right here, of course. Nice and cozy, as he’ll be for a very long time.”
My stomach pitched as I staggered forward. The pounding in my temples grew, the edges of my vision blurring again. My knees buckled as I reached the coffin, and I caught myself with both hands splayed across its top. It was beautiful: sleek jet-black wood with a top of stained glass. The panels, separated by strands of silver like the branches of a bare tree, crea
ted a dazzling image of creeping vines and swirling winds, the motif of beauty and destruction that the Morningspells devoted themselves to. I could see the figure lying beneath, a vague shape distorted beneath the colored glass. I swallowed a sob.
“It was meant to be yours.” Sarafine spoke nonchalantly, circling to stand on the other side of the coffin and lean her elbows on it. “Only the finest for a Morningspell, of course. It still could be. One word and he wakes, Neyva. That’s all it takes to switch places with him. You’re too far gone to save, we both know that, but he doesn’t have to die, too.”
I wanted Kye out. I wanted to shove the top aside and drag Kye out myself, but my arms trembled. I couldn’t, not in this condition.
I’d switch places with them in a single beat of my cursed heart if I thought it would save them. But she didn’t care about whether Kye lived or died.
“Break it.” I intended the words to be a growl, but they were unsteady and weak.
She laughed. “You know I can’t. I’ve hardly studied poisons. You can—but wait, you don’t have enough control left to work a cure, do you?”
I sucked in a thin breath, closing my eyes, and let my brow fall against the cold glass. “I’m sorry, Kye,” I breathed. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I didn’t force them away. If now wasn’t the time to cry, when was? “I’m so sorry.”
“We don’t have time for these theatrics,” Sarafine scoffed. “Or you don’t, at least. Didn’t I warn you you’d run out of time, sister?”
She had, weeks ago in the forest. I hadn’t paid her any mind, but she’d known what would happen. Maybe not like this, but she’d known I was losing control. I forced my head up to watch her and put every ounce of hatred I felt into my gaze.
“I don’t know what you did to make it so volatile, but it doesn’t matter now,” she continued. “You never should have run in the first place. What’s it done? Gotten your so-called friends killed on your behalf?”
Enaelle. Rayick. And now Kye. All the pain it had put on the rest of them. She was right. But if I hadn’t run, what would I be instead?
A pretty, heartless little doll, like her and Tulia and Mother.
“They put themselves in danger for me,” I said, voice shaking. “It was their choice, because they were my friends. And I’ll thank them for it until the end of my days.”
“That won’t be long, sister. Shall we bury you both together?”
I didn’t have time to talk. My magic clawed at my insides until I thought I would bleed from it. I let it go. Let it take the fear that choked me at the thought of losing Kye, the anger at my sister for using them and for letting her become what she had, my exhaustion and pain. It whipped through the air and the walls trembled. Sarafine’s spine straightened.
“I don’t care if I die tonight,” I growled. “But you will not take Kye. They are good. They are better than you or I could ever hope to be, and I swear on the Lady and Nalcai and every god watching, on every ounce of magic and Ladyforsaken blood in me, I will tear this crypt to pieces on top of both of us before I let you so much as breathe in Kye’s direction again.”
“A fitting place to spill Morningspell blood,” she commented. Dust rained down on us.
I stood. “I’m giving you five seconds, Sarafine. I’m not in the mood to be any more generous than that. Wake Kye up and walk away. You cast the poison, you can undo it.”
“Give yourself to Nalcai and save him yourself, if you’re so intent on it.”
I could. I could swear it right now and hope She heard, and all this would go away. The pain in my chest and throat and fingertips. The pounding in my temples. I would have the control to save Kye—but I wouldn’t care to anymore. “Four.”
“How long do you think he has left, Neyva?”
“Three.”
I wasn’t going to make it to one. The candlesticks on the far table trembled and rattled, and I feared they would topple over any second. It felt like my skin would start to split. Sarafine stepped around the coffin, and I locked my knees to keep from stepping away. Her pretty face was warped and I wondered if I was going to faint. Some ending that would be, for all of us.
“You say it like you’re such a threat to me, but you could be knocked over by a nice summer breeze.”
Cracks shot up the walls like lightning, severing the carved names of long-dead Morningspells. I wondered if bones would come spilling out if those thick walls were cleaved open. I didn’t want to be left here when I died, rotting away in cold, dark stone. “You said it yourself. I’m too far gone. You’ll get what you want. There’s no need to hurt anyone else.”
She took another step. “No, Neyva, I won’t get what I want. Do you know what I want? I want Mother to look at me the way she used to look at you. I want her to be proud of me—I want to be the witch she expected of me. Up until you came along.” A flick of her fingers and my legs trembled and collapsed. I caught myself on the coffin. “Pretty, perfect, talented Neyva. Always the favorite. Always the best.” My feet felt like lead; they wouldn’t move even as I struggled to get up. The air was too cold and thin, freezing my lungs.
“Clearly I’m not the favorite,” I gasped.
She looked me in the eye, practically spitting her words. “Not anymore. You threw everything away.”
“Take it, then. I don’t want it.”
“You know the one way to take it is by beating you. And you go and do this, whatever abomination you’ve done to yourself. Wrecked all that beautiful power you had, and take that from me, too.”
She was jealous. Of me, of all people? Not once had I thought of Sarafine as having any reason to be jealous of me. She was the eldest, set to inherit not one but two entire estates, engaged to the perfect man, powerful and beautiful and brilliant and sure of her every step. “Why should you care what I do with my magic? I thought you couldn’t feel. I thought you gave that privilege to Nalcai.”
She clenched a fist and my throat closed, cutting off my air. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my lungs strained, and struggled for a breath that wouldn’t come. “Do you want to know what I feel, sister? I feel cheated, and we Morningspells don’t tolerate cheating, do we?”
An eye for an eye. I took something from her, she’d take something from me. It was only fair. My head swam but I couldn’t breathe to steady myself or think.
The scraping of the doors opening caught her attention and her hold dropped. I doubled over, gulping air, but Sarafine leveled a gaze over my shoulder and gave a sickly-sweet smile. “Who do we have here?”
Mother? Morgana? Nobody else could have gotten past the protections that lined the doorway. Footsteps entered, light and sure and easy.
“I’m going to assume you’re the sister I’ve heard so much about. My name is Aurynn, and I’d very much appreciate if you stepped away from my friend before I have to slice your fingers off so you can’t do more damage.”
I choked on a laugh and shoved myself as upright as possible, the crypt spinning around me. “How did you get in here, Aurynn?”
“I may not have inherited the magic, but I am the daughter of a witch. I know a few tricks, like that certain protections respond to blood.”
A basic protection like those would lift to let a witch pass through; her blood must have been close enough to trick it. I fought a smile as I hauled myself to my feet again, shaking head to toe, and turned. Aurynn had levelled one of her knives with Sarafine and walked toward us.
“You do have loyal friends, don’t you, Neyva?” my sister asked, eyeing Aurynn. “And not even high-bred or useful ones. Shameful for a witch.” She jerked her chin and wind shook the whole crypt so forcefully I thought it would come down. Aurynn flew to the side like a ragdoll, head cracking against the stone. She fell limp.
“Aurynn!” I lost my footing and hit the floor on my hands and knees. I scrambled to her but didn’t pause to check if she was alive—I couldn’t have done anything for her now either way—and snatched the knife lying beside her.
I didn’t put thought into what I was doing. I didn’t plan it. I freed it, and the stone warped and cracked. She stepped away from it, watching me. Again. I pushed forward, following every step of hers with a shaky one of my own. I wasn’t sure which one would be the last I managed.
My feet barely crossed the uneven floor, jagged edges of stone rising and falling beneath us. Sarafine’s back hit the wall and the pretty, dark marble flowed outward, wrapping itself around her wrists, her arms. Veins of stone eager to devour her.
She lifted her chin, not bothering to struggle. “Kill me if you like. You’re the one who will have to live with it then, with your precious heart.”
“I’m not killer, not anymore.”
“You were born a killer, and you’ll be one until the day you die. There’s no escape from that. At least I have the honor to accept it.”
My fingers tightened around the handle of the knife, but I pried them away one by one. Let it clatter to the floor at my feet. She was wrong, and I’d prove it at every turn. “Mother made me into a killer. She made all of us into killers. I’m sorry she got to you first.”
There was rushing feet from behind and I knew the others had arrived. Morgana had broken the protections. All I saw was blurs of gold and black and silver as I moved from my sister. My entire body felt empty and cold, all my magic gone. I couldn’t so much as feel if I was standing.
“Noble Neyva,” Sarafine murmured. “Sacrificed all her strength on her enemy and leaving her lover to waste away and die. Still a Morningspell underneath.”
It was the last thing I heard.
Thirty-Two
“Neyva.”
The Ruin of Snow Page 32