Carrick counted them as they appeared. There were twelve.
The original Fallen. They moved counterclockwise around the clearing, forming a large circle in the middle.
Another figure appeared out of the woods, and his wings immediately gave him away.
Amell.
He was wearing the same green leather outfit he’d had on in the Underworld, and he didn’t enter the circle of twelve fae but rather moved around it, heading north across the field straight to where Carrick and his forces awaited in the dark.
Twisting, Carrick risked a glance at Zora. Her eyes were pinned on the Dark Fae who had both abused and helped her, but her expression was flat.
Amell reached the far north side of the circle of twelve and turned his back on where Carrick and his army stood.
“Bring in the sacrifice,” he ordered, his voice ringing across the field.
From the south side, there was movement once again as Pyke emerged from the darkness. A low hiss came from behind him and he knew it was Deandra, furious at seeing her traitorous brother for the first time since she got dragged into this.
Pyke wasn’t alone. He was marching a female into the clearing. His hand was at the back of her neck, and there was a black hood covering her entire head so she couldn’t see. Oddly, the woman was wearing a long-sleeved white nightgown as if she’d just been plucked out of bed, and she stumbled a few times as her bare feet caught what was probably rocks on the ground.
She didn’t fall, though, as Pyke’s grip on her neck was tight. Everyone watched quietly as he pushed her forward through the circle of twelve and straight to very middle of it. With a wave of his hand, he conjured a thick wooden post that was driven deep into the earth. Turning the woman so she faced back toward the south from where they’d emerged, Pyke pushed her against the post. Magical bonds of rope circled her from chest to waist, tying her to the post with her arms at her side.
The woman was oddly calm, her head merely bowed. She didn’t struggle, and Carrick thought she might be drugged or under a spell so she wouldn’t be a distraction in her fight to stay alive. Pyke stepped a few feet back from the woman, then clasped his hands behind his back.
“We have to help her,” Finley whispered beside him.
“Agreed,” Carrick replied, his mind calculating whether they should make their move now.
But before he could call an order to his army, there was more movement at the south side of the field and then it was Kymaris appearing from the forest.
She was dressed like she was attending a royal ball in a crimson dress that billowed out at her hips to flow to the ground. The bodice was tight, forming a deep cleavage, and scrolls of diamonds formed patterns along the hem, wrists, and neckline. Kymaris’ hair and makeup were as they always were and glimmering from a thick diamond rope at mid-chest was the Blood Stone. It looked mostly black from afar against her pale skin, but the center had a low-level glow of red to it.
She, too, moved through the circle, following the path that Pyke just took. She walked slowly, head held high. She looked left and right, taking in her loyal brethren, who didn’t look back at her as their heads were all bowed under their dark hoods.
Her gaze moved to the woman tied to the post as she approached.
“We need to do something,” Finley whispered urgently.
Carrick wanted to save the human at all costs, but he wasn’t sure this was the time. The ritual had not started yet as Amell said he’d be the one performing it. He was hazarding a wild guess that the sacrifice would not be made until the ritual was underway. He knew somehow that the power had to be filtered through those in the circle, and he felt the sacrifice would be a catalyst, so he believed he had time.
He was assuming a lot and playing with that woman’s life, but he had centuries of wisdom guiding his decision. He merely said, “Not yet.”
Finley shifted from foot to foot restlessly as Kymaris drew closer to the woman.
Rather than focus her attention on the sacrifice, Kymaris’ gaze went to Amell on the far side of the ritual circle. She moved past the woman tied to the post. Just as everyone was letting out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t killed her, Kymaris’ hand gracefully reached out and pinched the edge of the black hood. She tugged it off as she strode by, not even bothering to look at the sacrifice tied to the pole. She dropped the hood carelessly on the ground and kept walking.
Carrick couldn’t stop the low curse that came out of his mouth. “Fuck.”