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A second spotted the air with the silver, sparking clouds of Thorn’s magic.

And the third—this one I was sure was Ptholenix’s. It burned orange and yellow, licking across the floor like flames, circling the queen.

My own Angellight from Damien’s emblem surrounded the entire scene, scorching and iridescent.

Shock marred Kakias’s features—that twisted outrage an expression I’d never forget. Hooves sounded on cobblestone as Sapphire tore through the entrance to the courtyard, riled and frantic, headed straight for the veil.

Kakias lashed her power out at mine, battering my combined force of four Angel emblems.

Fissures formed along the veil’s edges, like an icy lake fracturing. Angellight rippled across the scene, a shimmering masquerade of slumbering power and awakened magic. It licked at stones and danced like starlight.

And the power was so new to me, so entirely overwhelming, I nearly cracked beneath her unrelenting strength, but I forced my knees not to buckle. Forced my eyes to stay on Kakias.

Channeling through my bones and blood and all I was made of, the light tethered strings to my very spirit. It dug down within me until roots of ether wound through my soul, and I siphoned its power in return.

I breathed when it breathed—moved when it moved.

As I installed that shield against the queen, I thought of each trial I’d survived so far. Each way we’d earned these emblems that somehow dragged a power out of me and planted it in me all at once.

I thought of the relentless courage required to battle the alpheous amid a warring sea and how nature thrashed in challenge. Of Malakai’s account of recreating a celestial event and the planning and sacrifice it required. And of grasping my fortitude within the pit to remain conscious against the luring darkness.

I pulled each of those strings to me—each of those learnings—and stole my body and mind against the magic warring around me. I focused on strength and cunning and determination. Brute force balanced by thoughtfulness and patience. Within me, the strings of Angellight separated among their respective lines and morphed back together to form a discernible but unanimous teaching of power. They were each a greater part of a whole.

I wove those lessons into my bones, and the magic seemed to settle. Worthy, it purred. Chosen.

And in a strange way, those threads of ancient magic filled the empty spots I had not known existed within me.

Kakias roared, and her power battered my shield so forcefully, my knees almost buckled.

Sapphire pranced around the courtyard, but her presence empowered me as I called on the strength of my second pulse. As I summoned the power of Angels living within me.

It answered with wild beats of feathered wings.

“One more,” I said through gritted teeth. One more and I was sure I’d be able to push back Kakias’s magic.

The only emblem I had yet to ignite.

I removed Bant’s ring from the pocket of my leathers and slipped it onto my thumb. Dried blood crusted my hand. I’d have to slice it one last time. One last time, and I believed I could overpower her.

But as my dagger hovered over the wound, the wall behind the queen burst apart with ground-shaking force.

Debris flew across the courtyard, dust coating the space. I squinted into the cloud before the new entrance.

And through it stepped two shadows, with pointed ears.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Ophelia

The queen spat an enraged roar, and that genuine shock was the most delicious source of encouragement. I stilled my hand with the dagger pointed at my palm and crept closer to the veil, squatting through the glow.

Those shadowed beings stepped clear of the swirling dust, dressed in fine tunics and leathers, foreign blades decorating their person.

“Lancaster?” I blurted, as the fae male assessed the scene with that familiar disinterest. And the woman beside him, smiling savagely—“Mora?”

I’d met her once before, all those months ago. Before Daminius and the emblems. Before Kakias revealed her immortal scheme. When I was resting in an inn, on a hunt for the man I love.

But then she had been a wife fleeing the bruising hand of her husband. Then, when she’d smiled at me, she did not do so with the flash of elongated canines that greeted me now. The pointed ears peeking between her long, cinnamon-colored curls had not revealed her true lineage.