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Basil’s forehead furrowed as he concentrated. “Fifteen…I think. Including guards.”
“Kill them.” Tallak tilted his head, his intense amber eyes on Basil.
He blew out a breath. “I’m not sure I can pinpoint my powers to kill only these few. I don’t have a handle on it yet. I could end up slaughtering every other fae in Faerie, too.”
Tallak’s raised brow clearly said he didn’t see any problem with that.
“No,” Basil said emphatically.
“Okay.” Hazel cut through the air with her hand. “We need to go in carefully, kill them one by one, without making a fuss, until we get to Rose and—”
“Uh, guys?” Isa interrupted.
Hazel and Basil both looked at her.
She pointed at the entrance to the cave dwelling, where Tallak disappeared inside, his sword drawn.
“Shit!” Basil took off after him.
Hazel followed him at a run, leaving Isa to catch up.
Inside, they both stumbled into Basil, who stood staring at the trail of blood and guts leading deeper into the caves. No sound but the swishing of a lethal blade and the thunk of bodies hitting the floor.
They followed the evidence of Tallak’s slaughter, their weapons drawn, and found him in a dungeon-like room lit by few flickering torches. Standing over a pile of dead fae, bathed in their blood, he looked up at them with glowing amber eyes, his breath scarcely a touch faster in spite of all the killing.
He raised a brow at their shocked silence, gestured to the bodies at his feet. “What? I wasn’t supposed to let one of them live, was I?”
Hazel inhaled sharply, shook her head. She studied the room, her attention snagging on a crumpled form in the corner. With a choked sound that broke Isa’s heart, Hazel rushed forward, sank to her knees next to the young woman dressed in rags. Chains clinked as she gathered her in her arms.
Basil walked closer, haltingly, his face a picture of silent horror. Isa grabbed his hand.
“You can heal her?” he asked his mother, his voice but a rasp.
Hazel’s breath hitched. “She’s not injured, she’s anemic. I need to get her home, brew a potion to replenish her blood.”
Her hand trembled as she brushed the greasy hair off Rose’s face—a face which so closely resembled the older witch’s that there could be no doubt about their relationship.
Rose woke with a start, twitched, opened her eyes and hissed. Sluggishly, she struggled in Hazel’s arms, clearly panicked. Magic whispered through the air, although it was barely more than a breeze.
Hazel uttered a pained sound and let go of Rose. The young witch scrambled away from her, into a corner, dark hair hanging into her face, muscles in her bare arms and legs tensed.
“It’s okay,” Hazel said, her voice soothing. “You’re safe, Rose. We’re going to get you out of here…”
Rose spoke, and it took Isa a moment to realize she’d done so in Fae.
“She doesn’t understand English,” Isa whispered.
“What?” Hazel stared at Isa.
“It makes sense.” Isa swallowed. “She’s been raised here. They never taught her English. Why would they?”
Power crackled around Hazel, and Rose flinched, cowered lower in the corner. With a gasp, Hazel gentled her energy.
“I’m sorry.” She took a tentative step toward her daughter, who stared at her with an expression Isa hoped she’d never have to see again. “Rose,” Hazel said. “I’ve come to take you home.”
Isa translated, then listened to the young woman’s reply. “She’s asking who Rose is,” she whispered.
Hazel exchanged a glance with Isa, and nodded. So Isa told Rose. Told her all about how she’d been born to a witch, taken from her mother, swapped for Basil, how they’d come searching for her, ready to take her to freedom.
