Page 178

Story: Bewitched

“If you do this,” I say softly, “Ivowto make every day of your life a living hell.”

A slow, wolfish smile spreads across his face. “I look forward to it,est amage.”

More magic is pouring out of me, though it’s sluggish now, and it’s battering uselessly against the sorcerer’s. My mind is starting to feel hollowed out. I’ve overdrawn my power, and still more supernaturals are falling to the ground.

There’s no escaping Memnon’s demands. Not in any real sense. My hate and anger nearly swallow me whole, but the sorcerer is right. I don’t want anyone else to die on my behalf.

Around me, the room has gone quiet, except for a few panicked gurgles and those unsettling thumps.

My shoulders heave with every ragged breath I take. I’ve done everything I can. It just isn’t enough.

“Fine.”

With that, I collapse forward, falling into his waiting arms, my breathing heavy, my magic spent.

CHAPTER44

I liein the arms of my enemy.

My soul mate.

My future husband.

I stare up at him tiredly as my vision clears.

Memnon brushes my hair back from my face, a soft look on his own. I guess victory has gentled him.

Around us, guests gasp for air.

I whisper, “Is everyone—?”

“Alive?” Memnon finishes for me.

I nod.

“Yes. They are all alive and well.”

I relax a little. He made good on his end of the deal—he released these supernaturals from certain death.

Which means I’ll have to uphold my end. I grimace at the thought.

The sorcerer’s hands slip under my body, and he rises from the floor, lifting me with him.

“My fierce queen,” he murmurs, clutching me close. I don’t have it in me to fight this embrace. My body is shaking; my mind is frayed. “You are a warrior at heart. I couldn’t be prouder. I may have defeated you tonight, but you have honored yourself and honored me by battling so valiantly.”

I’m going to marry this man.That thought echoes on repeat. He nearly killed a room full of people, and somehow that earned him everything he most desperately wanted.

“Selene!” Sybil’s panicked voice carries through the crowd.

“Sybil,” I call back, my voice wispy and feeble. My friend sounds shaken but okay.

Memnon glances up, his expression turning cold once more as he takes in Sybil and the rest of the guests. Their eyes are frightened, their bodies huddled in on themselves.

The sorcerer’s magic sweeps out of him and over the room. Before I can ask what spell he just cast, I see shattered glass lift from the ground and reform in their original panes. Trees and shrubs that were knocked askew now straighten and re-root, and their scattered soil returns to the gardening beds. Shattered coupe glasses repair themselves, their spilled contents returning to the delicate cups before the cups themselves float back into various guests’ hands.

Most astounding of all are the guests themselves. They blink and look around, their former fear transformed into confusion.

The sight of Memnon using all that magic after I spent nearly every drop of mine makes my nausea rise. I was never going to win this battle.

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