But to Aflora, Queen of the Midnight Fae.
A sliver of power slipped from beneath our shields, Aflora’s energy wrapping around my father and brother as she untangled some invisible web from their auras. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it.
Zakkai reached out as well, emboldening her work.
“What are you doing?” Constantine asked, sensing it as well. His eyes began to widen. “Don’t you feel this witchery?” He looked to the Elders and the kneeling Warrior Bloods. “She’s enchanted you all. Don’t you sense it?”
“I’m not the one weaving enchantments, Elder Constantine,” she replied. “I’m merely… undoing them.”
My father gasped as he collapsed to one knee, his hand at his neck.
His golden irises found mine, abject horror radiating in his depths. “Kols…” Then he looked down at his own hands in shame as memories of what he’d done rolled through his features. “Dear Fae…” His attention turned upward to the man beside him. “My own son. You made me kill my own son.”
“For the betterment of Midnight Fae kind,” my grandfather growled. “Which clearly, you’ve all forgotten because that thing has bewitched you.” He pointed to Aflora, his ire mounting by the second.
Zakkai’s stance straightened, his gaze narrowing, his reaction telling me that my grandfather had accessed the Dark Source.
But a wave from Aflora’s hand dismantled it all, and caused flower petals to rain down from the clear sky.
My grandfather cursed.
And Tray clocked him with a fist to the side of the face. “Where the fuck is Ella?” he demanded, taking the old man by the collar and strangling him with his grip. “Where is she?”
“She’s coming.” Aflora’s reply was carried on the wind, her power so resolute that even I wanted to kneel. I’d never felt anything like it. My father had always boasted an energy that took my breath away, but Aflora… she was like holding onto the source itself. “She’s safe, Tray.”
My brother crumpled then, his agony shattering my heart.
I wanted to go to him, to hold him, to promise him that Ella would forgive him.
But a stroke from Shade’s mind kept me steady.
Because my mate needed me more right now, my position beside her symbolic in so many ways. And she’d meant what she said—we were her anchors, the ones who kept her grounded.
If I left our cocoon of protection, my grandfather would use me against her. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
My grandfather blasted Tray with a spell that put him on his ass, then lifted his hand with a lethal ball of WarFire meant to destroy. “You’re all useless,” he hissed, taking aim.
A jolt hit my heart, the fear on my twin’s face causing me to take a step forward.
Don’t, Shade demanded, his word freezing me in place.
The WarFire left my grandfather’s palm, angling downward toward my brother’s chest.
Tray!I tried to move, to go to him, to save him from his fate, but Zeph caught my shoulder, holding me in place.
My brother cried out as the spell hit him, only to freeze a half a breath later as stone engulfed his form. I blinked, shocked by the instant marbleized state of death.
My father bellowed in fury, the Dark Source responding to his call and wrapping my grandfather in a sea of darkness.
But the man just laughed, dissolving the spell with a flick of his wand and shooting a volt into my father’s abdomen, sending him to his knees beside Tray’s still form.
“Magic is fascinating,” a new voice said, deep and carrying and familiar. “It can be manipulated in so many ways.” Tadmir stepped through the trees with several councilmen at his back.
Gone were his usual black robes, replaced by a cloak edged in cerulean, his long white hair flickering with bluish green flames.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said. “I had some spells to unwind.” He directed his wand at my brother, the stones fracturing around Tray’s skin to reveal my irate twin beneath.
I blinked, confused by the sight of him squirming out from the marble encasement.