Page 58 of The Unbound Witch
“The barrier,” I said. “The one you used around the books where no magic can get in. Can we try?”
Scratching the black stubble on his chin, the wheels of his mind turned. He looked away for several moments before making his decision.
“The barrier over the room at the castle was not the same as the one I cast over Gravana Lake. It's partially me and partially a ritual. It must be in the heart of the kingdom to work, but maybe we are close enough. We will need to gather more witches. Which means I'll have to confess that I'm alive. Also, Nym will have to agree to stay within the barrier, no matter what happens.”
I could feel the plea on my lips, but he held a hand up before I could fall to ghostly knees and beg him to save her.
“You don't even have to ask, Kir. I will do this for you. If it brings you an ounce of happiness or relief, I will do it.”
A dam somewhere deep inside of me broke as I sank to the floor. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He took a knee before me. “A flash of a second before Raven cast the death spell on me, I looked into your eyes and knew something was terribly wrong. That single glance saved me from dying and her from murdering. We will do everything we can to save Nym because it is the right thing to do, but also because you are worthy. And I see you. Your misery is not hidden from me, Kirsi Moondance.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I need you to be an asshole, okay? I just can't deal with the mushy shit right now.”
He shifted back into Grey. “We were friends first,” he smirked, that single dimple flashing on his cheek. “I'll be the asshole to your smartass every day. Now, get up. We have a witch to save.”
24
KIRSI
Seven elderly witches stood in a red salt circle in the middle of a sizable room within the home where some of the king's staff were staying. You could have put four of our measly homes inside this one. The furniture was well-polished, the windows covered in drapes from floor to ceiling, richly textured rugs along the floor … You could hardly call it a cottage at all.
It'd been ages since I'd seen anyone use a red salt circle, but even longer since I'd seen magic done with a variance of objects ranging from black tourmaline and rose quartz, to mint and red currant. Chunks of freshly chopped cedar had been placed into a star in the middle.
The house had been emptied, save the owner, the seven elders, and our small group. Torryn and Atlas guarded each of the entrances. Raven moved from piece to piece, casting her amplification spell onto each item before it was placed onto the five points of the star. She let the wax of seven candles drip over the cedar before handing them to the elders. Bastian shifted into his true form, leaving Nym gaping as she finally realized the truth of everything.
“The Dark King is not dead,” she whispered to herself.
I huffed a laugh. “He's still an asshole, though, don't worry.”
He flashed a grin at me before training his eyes back to Raven, watching her closely as she moved around the elders. Finished, she stepped out of the circle and the king took her place, casting first the black, all-consuming barrier that we'd seen from him so many times. The elders began to chant a medley of a spell I'd never heard before, and I shifted closer to Nym, worried something could strike her at any given second.
Power swelled until it vibrated the very core of who I was. It felt different than it did when I was a witch. Before, it was like a balm, a familiar caress from my ancestors, seeping into me. But now, it was only piercing static. Like a presence that might have grated on my bones, could I feel physical discomfort. I wondered what magic felt like to a shifter. I made a mental note to ask Atlas. Or maybe Torryn. Though he was quieter, I was more likely to get a truthful answer from him.
The darkness of Bastian's magic faded away as a new barrier was formed. Seconds ticked by. The Dark King pulled a knife from his waistband and slid it down his palm, squeezing blood over the flame of each of the candles until smoke lifted from the charred wicks, the flames gone. Each of the candles were put into a basin, and one of the elder witches lit a blue flame below as Raven held it midair with magic. The candles melted down to molten wax.
Each of the seven witches held their palms out to the side, pressing them together, forming a physical barrier. Bastian poured the wax from the basin over each of their paired hands. It must have burned, but none flinched. Soon enough, the swell of magic in the room surged, bursting from the floor as if it were a fountain, dropping into a circular barrier around the room.
“You must each leave a drop of blood in the basin,” Bastian instructed. “Only those who have done so may enter or exit the room. With your blood, you promise to protect this witch with your life. This has been attempted in the past and failed. It is not an absolute solution, but it’s the only one we have.”
He gestured Nym forward, but she shook her head. “No lives should be given in place of mine.”
“Don't be foolish, girl,” Nonet said, looking pointedly at her. “This is the greatest honor of protection your king could ever give you. But it is also an experiment. If we can save the rest of the witches from the Harrowing ... if we could learn their names or how to stop this curse, then you are only the seed planted. We've yet to see this bloom.”
Nym stepped forward, taking the stone basin from Bastian. He squeezed his palm over the white bowl and blood burned at the bottom, letting the deep red liquid coat the surface.
Stepping aside, he held the knife out to Nonet. She didn't bat an eyelash as she sliced into her papery thin skin, letting her blood flow. Raven moved forward then, healing the cut as the next elder took his turn. And so they went, around the five-pointed star, vowing to protect my golden witch. All because a grumpy king decided to befriend a smartass.
Once the spell was done, the elders left, and the shifters returned to the room, a determined look on Atlas' face as he closed the door behind him.
“We have to stop the Harrowing,” he said. “How many more must die?”
“We can't commit to that right now,” Torryn argued. “The coven leaders could decimate this world, and every second that goes by without us searching, we get closer to that reality. If they are all together somewhere with all but one of the Grimoires, it's a guarantee something bad will follow.”
“Then we split up.” Atlas shoved his hands into his pockets. “The ghosty and I work on the Harrowing, and you three chase the coven leaders.”
Raven crossed the room, peeking out the curtained window. “Before anyone does anything, I need to talk to my mother. It's possible she might have more information about the Harrowing than we do. She's known about it for a long time.”