Page 49 of The Arrow and the Alder

S eph’s world was light and fire and pain—excruciating pain, as if her bones had morphed into hot coals, melting all her organs. She had no concept of her body except for the agony coursing through every inch of her, and through her misery, through the haze of blinding white, a shadow crept into her periphery. Like a blot of ink upon a sheet of fresh vellum, what started as a dot began bleeding into the fibers, spreading outward until it formed a slinking, grotesque form.

Something…marginally human in shape, but bowed and hunched over, with rotting flesh and wisps of wiry black hair clinging stubbornly to its spongy skull. The figure had no eyes, only empty sockets, its lips were sewn shut, but its ears were large and grossly elongated, with unnatural spirals of cartilage that undoubtedly contributed to unparalleled hearing.

Give me the light! Pass your burden to meee now! The creature’s lips did not move, but it was her voice echoing in that space. The Fate of Sound. As if Sound could not hold to the projection of that formidable witch in this pure light, because the light burned away all her glamour, exposing her for the monster that she was.

Exposing truth.

Seph didn’t know what was happening, or how the Fate had found her in this strange plane of existence, but then the creature snapped its head to the right.

Something else had caught its attention. Something in the tangible world.

Seph was distantly aware of splintering wood and a thunderous crash. The inky, insubstantial creature screamed in fury and vanished like smoke. A second later, the light vanished too—the heat, the pain, all of it—and Seph blinked her eyes open to see the coat lying in a heap on the ground beside her.

But who…?

Seph spotted Serinbor magnificently wielding a sword against the bone-masked guards while simultaneously shooting darts from his vambrace. He was fighting to get to Evora—still glamoured as Alder and aiming an arrow at…

An enormous black stag.

Alder .

Seph sucked in a breath and her heart lurched. The Fate was tangled up in his impressive spread of antlers, so Evora could not get a clean shot. The Fate yelled in fury as Alder rammed her into a pillar with such force it cracked, splintering right up the middle, to the dome. Glass exploded, and a thousand shimmering daggers rained down.

It was just the distraction Seph needed.

She sprinted for Evora, and Evora was so focused on Alder that she didn’t see Seph until she barreled into her. Evora cried out, her arrow flew wide, and the bow slipped from her hands as the two of them hit the ground in a tangle.

Evora was quick—faster than Seph. Stronger too, but if Seph had learned anything, it was how to survive. How to play to her strengths, and right now, Evora’s cumbersome coat was one of them. Seph relented just enough so that it wasn’t obvious, and when Evora had her pinned, Seph grabbed fistfuls of the coat, jerked the kith woman close, and slammed her forehead to Evora’s nose, as she’d seen Serinbor do.

Evora hissed and covered her nose, and Seph bucked, scrambling out from beneath her, grabbing the coat as she did and yanking it free.

The glamour vanished, and Evora was herself again.

“Much better,” Seph hissed, her fury competing with the pain of betrayal.

Evora growled and shoved herself to her feet, only to find herself face-to-face with Seph’s arrow.

Seph smiled, all teeth. “If you’re going to play the traitor, at least wear your own face, coward.”

Evora looked at her with such hate in her eyes, it stole Seph’s breath. How had she hidden this from them all?

“Coward, am I?” Evora sneered. “I have waited for this moment longer than you’ve been alive.” She took a step closer.

Serinbor kept glancing over, wanting to help, but he couldn’t break free of his own battle.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Evora, but I will.”

Evora laughed, as if she didn’t believe Seph would, and she took a step anyway, and another.

Seph’s chest squeezed, and she released the arrow.

It pierced Evora’s belly with a wet thwick . Nothing fatal, if it was treated soon enough, but just enough to stop her.

Evora gasped and lurched forward, pressing her hand around the arrow. Blood seeped into her tunic and between her fingers, while hate made her beauty monstrous. “You think you know my cousin, but you don’t. You don’t know what he is . Look at him, Josephine ! Look at the one you would give your heart to. Your prince !”

Seph couldn’t help it; she glanced over, and Seph’s blood went cold. During her fight with Evora, she hadn’t noticed that the stag had collapsed to the floor. That the Fate was walking around him, murmuring incessantly—some incantation—while the stag twitched and convulsed.

Which was when Seph also noticed the symbol glowing upon his hind—a branding. The same branding she’d seen on the depraved.

The Fate had done this to him.

Only a god can fix this, Alder had said.

He might not have known who, exactly, had done this, but he’d known the power was far beyond any of them.

The symbol burned brighter and brighter as the Fate’s voice grew louder, crunching glass beneath her bare feet as she walked. Shapes slithered beneath the stag’s skin, and Alder’s face contorted grotesquely. Man, stag, depraved—all of them warring for dominance.

“No…” Seph started for him, but Evora kicked out her leg, knocking Seph from her legs.

She landed flat on her back. Her head slammed on stone as the air punched from her lungs, and then Evora was there, kneeling over her with the arrow still sticking out of her belly. Blood dripped everywhere, and she held a blade in her hand, just over Seph’s heart. “It’s over, little star. You can join my cousin in hell.”

And Evora raised the blade.