The Witch screeches, curses spilling, but it is too late. She is caught.
I turn, scooping Phoebe into my arms, pressing her tight to my chest.
She is trembling but alive, the bond singing with her heartbeat.
Relief nearly drops me to my knees.
And yet—this woman, this Sea Witch wretch—she is the first living thread that might lead us straight to Idris.
I bare my teeth, fury boiling over.
“You thought to take my mate,” I snarl at her struggling form, “but instead you’ve delivered yourself into my hands. And through you, I will drag Idris into the light and make him answer for every soul he’s stolen.”
The sea surges agreement, the hall dripping with brine and thunder.
“We’ve got her, Kael. She will be imprisoned, and we will make her talk,” Alaric’s voice booms.
Thorne and Dagan enter the hall and add their elemental powers to the binds tightening around my enemy.
Phoebe’s arms tighten around my neck, her voice a whisper in the storm.
“Kael. I thought that was it,” she whimpers.
“No, my love. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”
I press my brow to hers, and she chuckles and then sobs.
“What about them?” she asks, turning and moving out of my embrace to the injured sea tiger pups.
“Here now, I got this,” I say and place my hand over their injured forms.
Magic wells, bursting forth from me, and a moment later, the creatures are whole and crying for their mother who calls to them from the docks.
“Go on, you’re okay now.” Phoebe whispers, petting them lightly as they scamper away to the open dock to find their kin.
“Sweet, softhearted mate,” I whisper, kissing her brow, and I close my eyes as I come back to myself, the Titan’s roar quieting in my chest.
“Thank you for coming for me,” she says.
“You never have to thank me for that, my viyella. I swear by the crown—this all ends when we have Idris, and we will defeat him. Until then, it is my honor to keep you safe.”
Hours later.
The battle is over.
The Witch is bound in chains of tide-forged iron, screaming curses that dissolve into foam when they leave her lips.
She will live long enough to lead us to Idris. That much I have sworn.
But it is not victory that fills my chest—it is Phoebe.
She sits on the top stair of a large round pool that opens up into the sea beyond Castletide.
Magic keeps the entryway safe from anything that might harm her, as well as a handful of mer-wardens to guard her.
A sea tiger pup is sprawled across her lap, the other nosing at her hand for comfort or, likely, more treats.
They found their way back to her after nursing from their mother.
