‘It’s all right,’ she said, calmly.
Hell no.
He reached for his shadows.
Magic evaded him.
The mist in his head thickened.
‘You’re probably wondering why you can’t think straight,’ crooned Lark. ‘That fog in your head is thanks to an Urnican substance called mistbane. Made from the leaves of the widow’s poppy. They use it over the border after their wars. A little something to take the edge off. Wash away all the gruesome memories.’
Ransom kept his eyes on Seraphine. On the point of Lark’s knife biting into her skin.
I will rip out your fucking entrails.
There came another shriek.
Closer now.
Black wings breaking through the clouds.
‘He’s here!’ Lisette cried.
‘Be careful with her,’ said Nadia.
Lark smirked. ‘When am I ever reckless, darling?’
Sera slammed her heel down on his foot. Lark cursed, backhanding her across the face. She jerked, losing her balance. He grabbed her by the neck and swung her until she dangled over the quad like a doll.
A feral rage swept through Ransom.
His head spun, or perhaps it was the world that shifted as he staggered towards Lark.
His wide laughing mouth loomed over him. ‘Feeling addled, brother?’
Ransom couldn’t make his mouth work. The fumes were snatching at his thoughts, his tongue.
He stumbled to his knees, and still he crawled, breath hissing, heart thundering, clawing desperately at the stone. Lisette stood over him, his blade of steelfire now glinting in her hand.
She pressed her boot against his back. ‘See how the mighty have fallen.’
‘Be still, Ransom,’ Nadia hissed.
It was like telling the sun not to burn. He would sooner rip out his own heart than be still.
When Lisette sank the dagger between his ribs, he barely felt it.
Blood pooled, slickening his hands as he crawled. A terrible heat whispered through his bones as the steelfire went to work.
His magic dimmed.
The world darkened.
‘Take it out.’ Seraphine was screaming now. ‘Lisette, take it out!’
A shriek reverberated through the tower, as a monstrous shape emerged from the clouds and dipped towards them.
A Strix.