“Cameron Crows.” The soldier repeats the name once and lunges forward, spearing Birkin by the throat on the end of his sword.
Bubbles froth at Birkin’s mouth. Blood drips into his shirt. What few animals are still living coo with sorrow as the soul of their master peels away from his flesh. I’ll admit, in my three years with the Hunt, I’d never seen a Witch or Warlock’s soul.
Twinkling like the night sky filled with thousands of shining stars, Birkin’s soul ismagnificent. The urge to consume, to swallow his soul whole, shoots through me with such force, I pull from Nollix’s grip. The ghost of his earthly form floats through the room, his eyes wide and empty.
But, unsurprisingly, Jeriko gets there first. She slips past the Court of Light guards, and Birkin’s soul is sucked into her body like she’s his own personal black hole. A peaceful calm, the shared euphoric high, spreads through my veins. It’s shared with the Hunt. A quiet sigh passes over my lips as I try to take in the feeling, to absorb one of the few benefits of the job.
Each muscle in my body relaxes for a single moment, a single breath. The aches and pains that have haunted me dissolve, only to be replaced with the sickening feeling of far-too-binding power pulling me back.
With a gasp, I look down to my hand. There is no choice in this, no free will at all, only demanding magic turning me to glittering black-and-gold dust.
The Court of Light soldiers are talking amongst themselves. A set of commands is given, but I can’t focus to understand what they might be saying. Instead, I’m turning on my heels. Heart frantically beating and hands reaching for my friends, my family.
Not again. We’re going to be torn apart again.
“Where are you staying?” Nollix rasps, the black scar across his jaw eating away at his skin. “Tell us anything.”
“You’ll never find her....” Jeriko taunts.
“I don’t...” I can feel my soul lifting from the ground. The words hardly able to leave my mouth. “I don’t know...”
The world is reeling, Birkin’s house shrouded in smoke, houses miles away from his coming into view. Nollix’s voice still manages to reach me. “I’ll see you soon.”
He’ll find me. I’ll stay strong. I have to. Then I’ll see him soon.
I repeat that to myself all the way back to The Court of Winds, the attack from The Court of Light an unsettling reminder at the back of my mind.
Chapter Sixteen
Merrick
Violence’s room is empty. We’d scrounged the castle nearly top to bottom with no signs of either my sister or the Witch. Casimir and I found Dalziel tilted back in a chair with his boots propped up on a dining table as he sipped red wine and stared out at the horizon.
From him, we were able to piece together that my sister had likely been whisked away with the Hunt. A side effect that I hadn’t thought about. Whatever magic suppressed the call of the Wild Hunt while Violence was within the walls of The Compound didn’t seem to work all the way in the Court of Winds. Something I hadn’t anticipated.
After profusely apologizing to Prince Dalziel, Casimir and I made our way back to her room to wait. I pace her floor. My wet clothes have been swapped for something more appropriate, and I tug at the collar between bouts of chewing on my nails.
“You might just wear a hole right through the floor.” Casimir sighs from the seat he’s slouching in, a dark mead in hand.
“What’s taking them so long?”
“How long does it usually take to absorb the souls of the dead?”
I stop my parading to glower in his direction. The liquid in his cup bubbles and splashes against the edges of his cup as he raises it in salute. I pinch the bridge of my nose, only to crack an eye when he speaks again.
“Are you mad that you were... interrupted?”
“Furious, actually.” I chuckle but it’s humorless. “Not only that, but this is another way for Basilus, or worse Father, to tell me that I’ve failed in some way. I swear if this ruins negotiations with this court...”
“You’ll?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I snap, finding it hard to tether my anger. “You know Father could have told me. He does have ties to the magic of the Wild Hunt. He would bloody know when and where they’ll have access to those abilities. We can only pray that they come back.”
“And what if they don’t?” The sound of him sipping his drink grates against my nerves, and my shoulders rise an inch closer to my ears as they tense.
“I’m so happy you are here to help me think positively.”
Casimir gives me his famous toothy grin. “Always glad to be of service. Sometimes it’s nice being the bastard born with no hopes of ever having the crown.”
