Page 67 of Tethered Fates

Astra levels us with a stare. “Of course I can.”

“And the payment?” Luc quips.

“None.”

“Isn’t she kind?” Grey says with a glib smile.

“Even if this didn’t affect all of us,” Astra remarks, “I said I wanted better for the blood mages, and it is a promise I intend to keep. So you might not want me as an ally, but you have me.”

There’s a snap as the two thin leather belts keeping her spellbook in place at her thigh unclasp.

As much as I’d love to refute Astra’s claim, I can admit she’s being useful. Not that I have plans to say that aloud.

Her pale book slides out of the loosened straps and hovers before Astra, the thick pages flapping like a bird’s wings before opening wide on a page stamped with sharp-lined runes the colour of deep crimson.

“It’d be best if you moved out of the way,” Astra comments as flippantly as a queen of gore.

Grey moves over to us, and we push ourselves against the wall. “Next time you call, perhaps it could be for something less disgusting?”

“I’ll be arranging flowers next week. Feel free to join me,” I drawl.

Astra slices a pointer finger down the length of the cover, cutting open her skin on a hidden blade. But nothing drops to the floor; her blood flows from her wound towards the open palm of her other hand, swirling like a slow-moving whirlpool.

A moment later, the body parts begin to rise, floating into the middle of the landing.

“I could’ve gone so many more years without seeing this,” I sigh.

“Oh shut up,” Astra snipes. “You wanted my help, didn’t you?”

“She’s not wrong,” Grey chimes in.

The pools of red lift like rain in reverse, all the gore drawing together to mimic the whirlpool in Astra’s palm as it forms a grotesque ball. It spins faster, whipping my hair around my face as it shrinks, crunching and gurgling like a drain choking down wet hunks.

“Well, this is awful,” Luc mutters under his breath.

Within a few minutes, during which, for some morbid reason, none of us looks away, not a single drop of blood or flesh is left. Only a black and red marble that drops into Astra’s bloody palm.

“Neat trick,” I say as Astra pockets the marble.

“So.” Astra turns to us, hip cocked and folding her arms. The tip of her finger is still bleeding. Now I know Elio can heal; I wonder why Astra doesn’t. “What did Emma say?”

Luc and I share a look before I let out a long breath, then tell the Blood Mage Sovereign and the Direwolf the events of this terrible night.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Sen

“Iknow you’ve made your mind up,” Lucero speaks for the first time since leaving Astra and Grey.

I drive towards the mansion, the swaying trees scattering the early morning sunlight across the road.

“About?” I reply, passing through the wrought iron gates as I turn into the mansion’s courtyard.

“Don’t play dumb, Sen.” Beside me, I feel the static shock of Luc’s glare. “If this were Golden, I’d sacrifice myself for him, too.”

The car glides to a stop, and I cut the engine off.

When we first left Emma’s house of corpses, a cool sense of acceptance washed over me. I never expected to live a long life, even on that fateful night where I met Vidar. A part of me believed it’d be my last. A belief I’ve had countless nights since.

So while I won’t be offering my neck to Summer without a fight, if my heart stopping means Teagan living, it doesn’t feel like an end.