Page 65 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

It had to be a nightmare.

I was still asleep in the barracks of the temple, my mind conjuring up horrifying visions of the Devotion Gate to haunt me. I had already passed through the Sacrifice Gate.

I was every bit as foolish and desperate as the humans whom I’d looked down on with condescension. I’d made a deal with a deity, and now that would be redeemed.

The Seven Gates were as much a punishment as the curse leeching life from Velora. Those of us foolish enough to attempt them, to hope, were punished for that again and again and again. That was why no one had ever made it through all the gates. Supplicants were not saviors. We were martyrs.

Isanara flared her wings out wide behind me and Garrick, then snapped them together. I thought it was a show of pride. I wished I’d known her long enough to understand all of her nuances.

“I will protect you,” she said, holding her elegant head high.

The ice in my chest threatened to splinter me from the inside out. “No.”

“A familiar chooses her witch. I chose you, Koryn.” She flicked her tail above her head, the spike at the end daring the two deities to come closer.

“You did not choose to die before you even reached maturity,” I said aloud. I wanted them to understand what they did. If deities were capable of feeling guilt, I wanted them both to ache with it. Both Xyta, for asking this reprehensible sacrifice, and Ramkael, for letting his twin do it.

“Maybe there is another way,” Garrick said, his voice low, just for me. We both knew the deities in front of us could hear whatever they wanted. But the secret, special tenor of it was a caress I did not deserve.

I still held Garrick’s hand. How had I not realized that? His steady warmth had held my power in check, allowed me to anchor myself and remain in control. Now it helped me make my decision without my senses overwhelming and distorting my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him, just as softly.

They’d said that whatever happened at the Devotion Gate would not interfere with the Lifebind. That had to mean that Garrick would not die. I had to believe that, because if saving Isanara meant damning him, I did not think I could make the choice.

“I can’t…” My voice broke. I forced myself to stop and breathe. I inhaled, counting slowly, and then exhaled, counting again. I would not face my fate in a panic. “I cannot give her up.”

Garrick’s eyes flashed, his grip on my hand tightened. He looked at me, then to the two deities watching, then back my way again. “You cannot do this.”

“You’ve made your decision?” Ramkael asked.

I’d made the only one I could. Isanara was a part of me—the best part.

Not the broken, scared, and scarred part, but the courageous and funny and sarcastic.

I’d walked this cursed continent for four hundred years and committed heinous crimes in the name of loyalty to my coven.

But I also committed some of them for myself.

If it had to end, at least I was not alone.

I nodded to the twins, one of whom wore the face of my mother. I had no illusions that I would see her in the afterlife. But that did not change my decision. “I have.”

“You will not!” Isanara roared. But even a dragon was not fast enough to defy the gods.

Xyta ripped me away with a wave of their hand, sending my body crashing into the stone wall of the cottage behind me.

Isanara thrashed, but a wall of red power encircled her and Garrick.

My head collided with the floor as I fell, but I was able to make out a rough understanding of what was happening.

Xyta would punish me. Ramkael would ensure that my bonded and my familiar did not interfere.

My head ached from the impact, but I managed to get my hands underneath me and push myself up. The cottage spun around, and nausea rolled up from my stomach, but I fought it down.

“Please, Garrick. You have to conquer the gates. Promise me you will get through them, whatever it takes.” I would never be reunited with my coven, but that was not my only responsibility.

I had not trusted Garrick with her name before, but now I had no choice.

“Kyrelle. Her name is Kyrelle. She is my sister’s great-granddaughter…

I cannot even tell you how many times removed.

But please. Please. Save Velora for her.

” I coughed up blood. “Save Velora for me.”

Pain shot through my wrists and calves. I screamed, falling on my side. Blood spurted from the four points, but my eyes saw no blades. Xyta did not need mortal weapons to kill me.

But I wasn’t concerned with Xyta. They’d have their sacrifice. Some part of me felt a surge of satisfaction—they’d only get one from me, rather than the promised two. So, in the end, maybe I had triumphed over the deity.

I spared them no more of my dwindling consciousness.

Any remaining fragments of my soul belonged to Garrick and Isanara. My mouth moved around their names, but an invisible force drove into my stomach, stealing my breath before I could get them out.

Garrick burst through the wall of red that encircled him, past Ramkael’s power. It was impossible. I must have already begun hallucinating. He threw himself at me, even as a blast of red from Ramkael sent him sprawling. Then he began to crawl.

“You will not interfere.”

The last thing I saw was Garrick’s face as bands of bright red power encircled his midsection and legs, binding his arms to the sides of his body and holding him in place.

I could not bear the pain in those features I’d come to know so well in such a short time.

That must have been why I closed my eyes.

The last thing I heard was his plea. But it must have been a hallucination conjured by the blow to my head, because Garrick the Red would never beg for me.