His dark eyes slid to me and lingered, weighing and measuring. “You make it sound so simple, little mouse.”
“He’s not going to let me learn?” Deirdre whispered, her voice broken and afraid. “You said he helped you. I don’t know what I’m going to do if...”
My skin crawled as Rocko practically floated to her side and stroked his hand down her arm, marking her with his clingy, oily magic. “Dear girl, there is plenty of my... experience to go around. You and Ophelia will work so well together, little pigeon.”
My ears started ringing. It was definitely a trap. He never intended for me to go free, even if I brought someone with me. Nola tensed and I hoped she got close enough to Rocko to kill him before he dragged Deirdre away through the gap in the air. I rubbed my hands together and tried to reassure myself with the long, thin scarf I’d balled up in my pocket. I could still bind him.
My magic simmered as my emotions flared up and panic hovered at the edge of my awareness. It was going wrong. Everything was going wrong.
Rocko kept stroking Deirdre’s arm and her eyes started to glaze over. Even Nola watched his hand and the slow movement, as if he worked a spell...
I choked on a warning and stumbled forward, knocking his hands away, and pushed hard at his chest. “Don’t you dare.”
The moment I touched the sorcerer, my magic went spiraling up and up and up. I flew back and the air rent around us in a dozen different rips, showing just as many realities. Rocko laughed and reached for my arm, already holding Deirdre despite that she struggled. “Do you think me stupid, little mouse? Why would I let two such delicious morsels get beyond me? You will pay for your defiance and for making me chase you this far. The sooner you get on your knees and beg forgiveness, the sooner I may allow you to do your penance. Start begging, witch.”
My hand clenched the scarf. I ground out between clenched teeth. “Never. I will never kneel before you again.”
“Brave words, little mouse,” he murmured. His nails dug into Deirdre’s arm, leaving crescent-moon gouges, and he dragged her back toward one of the rents in the air. “Shall your friend here pay the price? I can break her to make you obey. You will watch every moment.”
I pulled out the scarf but held it behind my back. He would have to break his concentration in order to step through the rift. Nola growled and a gray streak bolted through the air, slamming into him. Deirdre staggered back, almost tripping into the rift, and I barely grabbed her leg in time to haul her back. She huffed, “Thanks,” before she started calling down magic.
Rocko laughed and raised his hands in the air, chanting, and I took his distraction—all of that miserable attention directed at Deirdre—as the perfect opportunity to throw my knitting in his stupid, ugly, awful face.
