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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NEAH

Z ennon had a surprisingly strong right hook. Something she was particularly pleased about whenever Neah praised her. It was a little worrying, since the main lesson Neah had tried to drum into her sister’s head is that the best thing to do when faced with a threat is run .

They’d been going through basic self-defence manoeuvres all morning until Neah finally called time on the whole thing so they could catch their breath.

The fasting since the lunar hunt wasn’t helping any with the exhaustion that bore down on Neah and she knew that Zen had to be feeling it too.

It was an old ceremonial tradition that, while upheld at court, many didn’t bother with any more.

Supposedly, the fasting promoted balance after the wild indulgence of the hunt, the only people at court who were exempt from the fast were the king’s guard—hungry soldiers were never a good idea.

The keeper knocked on the door with the juice Neah had called for and placed the tray on the small table in the parlour when Neah let them in.

They’d brought a carafe of orange juice, extra pulpy and ice cold, as well as two glasses.

Liquid was a grey area for the fast, but they needed some energy after sparring all morning, so Neah had embraced it.

Under the warmth of her fingertips, the glass carafe fogged. Zennon walked over to see what had arrived and then hovered by Neah’s elbow until she handed her a full glass.

Zennon bounced on the balls of her feet and Neah watched, bemused. How did she still have so much pep? Normally Neah didn’t become less grouchy in the mornings until she’d eaten two lots of breakfast—but maybe she was especially cranky today because of her gruelling workout the night before.

Glass shattered, jolting Neah out of her thoughts and startling her into spilling the juice as she poured it from the carafe into her own glass.

“Gods, Zen. You nearly gave me a—Zennon?”

She was staring down at the shattered glass and remnants of orange on the ground in front of her, her hands oddly limp and her face paler than Neah had ever seen it.

“I feel strange,” she murmured, and then she was falling. Neah scrambled to catch her, knocking the carafe in the process until more puddles of orange pooled on the floor, rivulets of juice running down from the table in a steady drip that sounded far away as Zennon’s eyes rolled back in her head.

“Zen? Zen!”

Shallow breaths passed through Zennon’s parted lips, her pulse fluttering weakly against Neah’s fingers. She’d been fine two seconds ago, joking and smiling, and now?—

Neah halted the thought in its tracks. Zennon would be fine. She would make sure of it.

She scooped her sister up, paying close attention to the small rise and fall of her breaths as Neah held Zennon against her chest.

“Keep breathing for me, Zennon.” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt, like everything inside of her had turned to stone. Panic wasn’t helpful right then. Zennon needed a healer, not a sister too busy falling apart to help.

The door to her chambers flew off its hinges as Neah kicked it, the dull boom not slowing her down as she stepped through the doorway, careful of Zennon’s head and legs that dangled from Neah’s grip.

Zennon’s lips were turning chalky, a whiteness that started at their corners and inched toward their centres as Neah turned to her left and ran.

The cold skin of Zen’s wrist made Neah flinch as she pressed her fingers against it, feeling for her pulse and relieved when it thudded sluggishly.

The healer’s wing was at the other end of the castle and even with the near-empty corridors thanks to the early morning, Neah wasn’t sure they would make it.

Goddess. Selene. Do not let her die. It was more of a demand than a prayer but it helped clear her head to have someone she could direct her anger at. If they couldn’t get to the healers, then they would have to make do with the next best thing.

Zennon jostled against Neah’s body as she ran, pushing herself faster until she reached a guest room she hadn’t been to before but knew about thanks to her own subtle inquiries. She didn’t bother to knock, instead kicking in the door much like she had her own.

Silver eyes widened as Sonnet gave a cry of alarm before she took in the situation and, to her credit, didn’t hesitate. “Goddess. Put her here.”

Neah obeyed, setting Zennon down on the bed where Sonnet had indicated. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Is it poison? She was fine until she drank the juice.” Was she rambling? Neah couldn’t tell any more as she paced at the end of the bed, giving Sonnet room to work.

The witch shook her head as she ran her hands over Zennon’s body, hands glowing with faint light. “No, not poison. A spell. I’ll do what I can to slow it, but we need to get her to the healers before it’s too late.”

Too late. The bed frame creaked under Neah’s grip and she let go immediately, not wanting to cause the frame to collapse atop the both of them.

“This is strong magic,” Sonnet murmured and the long white night dress she wore fluttered about her form as she began weaving her hands in the air, like she could see something Neah couldn’t. “But amateur.”

This was amateur?

Sonnet shuddered. “Nasty, nasty. It’s two-fold,” she said, more to herself than to Neah it seemed.

“Unravel the soul, poison the body. I can fix the soul magic but the rest will be up to the healers. If I can just…” The witch’s frame quaked and her head fell back, her hair cascading in waves that stirred in a breeze Neah didn’t feel.

Her eyes glowed white and etchings in silver rolled across her bare arms and down to her hands as she placed them on the centre of Zennon’s chest.

So that was what it was like to be blessed by the Goddess. As long as it saved Zennon, Neah didn’t care whether Sonnet summoned a demon or any other manner of evil.

The light sank into Zennon, making her chest glow for a moment before the magic seemed to expand, reaching the top of her head down to her toes in the time it took Neah to blink, before dissipating with a pop of pressure that had her flying back and away from the bed.

“Quickly.” Sonnet appeared above Neah’s head and offered a hand to pull her to standing. The witch was paler than usual and a sheen of sweat coated her body. “Get her to the healer now.”

Sonnet looked like she could use a healer herself, and when she swayed, Neah sighed and caught her. It was times like this where her shifter strength truly was an asset.

Neah swung Sonnet up and over one shoulder before doing the same with Zennon on her other side, grunting at the weight. She just had to make it to the healers.

Then she ran, grateful for every heartbeat she could feel against her shoulder as she pushed herself harder than ever before.

The corridors blurred around her and she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until, finally, she reached the corridor of the healer’s wing and nearly crashed into Gabriel, Skye, and Wren.

Gabe took Sonnet immediately and Neah sucked in a breath, grateful for the relief, before marching through the doors and swinging Zennon down gently, depositing her on the closest bed. Five healers immediately flocked, assessing Zennon much like Sonnet had with their hands hovering over her body.

“What happened?”

Neah wasn’t sure who asked, didn’t want to look away from Zennon for even a second lest she miss her last breaths. “Magic. Sonnet fixed the spell that was weighing on Zennon’s soul, but she said there was poison in the body.”

The healer closest to Neah nodded. “You’re lucky that there was a lunar witch here, otherwise there’s nothing we would have been able to do.”

“But now?” Neah held her breath until black spots swam in her vision.

“I’ve got her. I think you got her here just in time, thanks to your friend’s magic.”

Just in time . She was going to be okay.

“Yes,” the healer said and Neah startled, not realising she’d said the words aloud. “I need room to work. Go and wait in the seating area and I’ll come and get you when I’m done.”

Neah’s breath shook. “Okay. Thank you.” The racing of her heart finally began to slow and she was grateful for the hand that wrapped around her waist as the room tilted to the left from the force of her adrenaline crash.

She’s going to be okay .

“Yes, caritas . She’s going to be okay. You did so good.

” The words were nonsense, soothing murmurs, the familiar scent of forest and sweetness surrounding her, and it was only when she leaned her head back that she realised they’d made it to the chairs and Wren had her cradled on his lap.

His hands tightened when she moved before his grip went slack, giving her the option to leave if she chose. She didn’t move.

“And Sonnet?”

“Tired, but fine. Lunar witch magic works slightly different to other witches, her magic takes a part of her when she uses it. Sometimes it’s energy, like with other witches, but sometimes it’s life force.

” Sonnet had given up some of her life to heal Zennon?

The shock on her face must have been apparent because Wren chuckled.

“Sonnet would never let someone die if she could help it, caritas .”

Neah’s eyes had slipped closed without her meaning to and they flashed open at his words. “What does that mean? Caritas?” She pronounced it awkwardly and Wren’s smile faded, a more intense look framing his face and lighting his eyes.

“Precious, or rare.” He spoke in a raw murmur and Neah didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“How did you know?” she asked around a yawn and Wren nodded to the side where Skye and Gabriel stood at the end of Sonnet’s bed.

“Skye had a feeling. A strong one. So we came.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled and sighed when a hand stroked over her hair, lulling her to sleep as her body finally gave out. “M’just closing my eyes. Watch her.”