Page 127 of The Arrow and the Alder

Seph stared at the Fake Alder, but he would not meet her gaze.

Evora?

It couldn’t be! Evora was the only one who’d defended Alder, the one who’d defendedSeph. There was no way she would’ve betrayed them like this…

The Fate extended her arms and threw back her head as before, and that horrible, inhuman scream rattled out of her. It echoed into the sky, and the mist came alive with screeching and beating wings, as though every depraved in the kingdom of Light were heeding her call.

Fear dropped like a brick in Seph’s belly—fear for Alder. TherealAlder. And then Seph heard the cries of battle, of men shouting.

Oh, sacred saints in heaven!

The Fate lowered her arms and looked at Seph with those soulless black eyes. “Now, where were we? Ah, I remember. Evora, if you would position our little star below the oculus.”

There it was again, but Fake Alder still would not meet Seph’s searching gaze. Not even as he gripped Seph’s shoulders and shoved her forward while the sounds of battle filled the churning and mist-covered skies. Fake Alder held Seph firmly beneath the dome’s opening, while the Fate tossed the satchel at her feet. Part of the coat spilled out of it and onto the floor, throwing its prisms of light all over everything.

Seph couldn’t be sure, but it almost appeared as though the stained glass flashed with light and color in response to the coat.

“Take off her binds,” the Fate demanded.

Fake Alder moved to stand before Seph. He still wouldn’t meet Seph’s gaze, not even as he grabbed Seph’s hands and placed his palm over the enchanted moonstone. Fake Alder said a word, the binds clicked open, and he caught them before they fell.

All at once, an electric rush of power sizzled over Seph’s skin. Warmth blazed in her chest, just behind her breastbone where it coalesced, fueled by fury and desperation, and Seph punched Fake Alder in the nose.

He cursed and reeled back as Seph pulled off her gag and charged him like a battering ram. She was certain the sight was ridiculous with his size and Seph’s lack thereof, but if this was truly a glamour, Fake Alder’s size was only an illusion.

He was still recovering from the shock of Seph’s punch, when Seph rammed right into his chest. He stumbled back as Seph’s fists pummeled. The gag muffled Seph’s scream, but she let those expletives fly all the same—until she was abruptly jerked back by an invisible force, whipped around, and dragged and held before the Fate so that her feet dangled two inches above the floor.

“The futility of humankind never ceases to amaze me,” said the Fate. “The coat, Evora.”

Seph grunted and strained against the invisible clamp around her body, as Fake Alder—Evora!—dabbed at her nose. It was broken and trickling blood. He snatched up the satchel Massie had left and strode furiously toward them.

“Set it down,” said the Fate.

Was it really Evora? Or was the Fate trying to manipulate Seph? Seph didn’t think the impostor would keep avoiding her gaze if it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t imagine why Evora would turn on her cousin?—

Fake Alder dropped the satchel at their feet and took three steps back. The Fate’s gaze lingered on the coat a moment before her face swiveled back to Seph. Meanwhile, the chaos of battle echoed in the skies, and a great boom shook the floor.

The Fate released Seph so abruptly that Seph crashed to the floor in a heap.

“Put it on.”

Seph slowly pushed herself up on all fours. Another boom rocked the floor, and the Fate snarled. “Put it on her now!”

Fake Alder snatched up the coat with a sharp hiss, and tossed it over Seph’s shoulders.

The effect was immediate.

It was as if she’d been thrown into fire. Seph felt herself cry out, though like before, she had no body she could see or touch. Only one she couldfeelas this power burned her up from the inside out.

But there was no Weald Prince to save her now.

Alder had never seen so many depraved. They descended like a cloud of claws and teeth. His kin screamed and blood rained—from kith and depraved alike—while depraved raked at them all, trying to tear them apart.

“To me!” Alder bellowed over the din, fighting to keep order. He fired arrow after arrow, dodging claws from the seat of his horse. Depraved fell, but it seemed that for every one he shot down, two more appeared to take its place.

Damned oversized bats.

His uncle charged ahead, wielding his blade like the war hero he was, though Serinbor kept beside Alder, firing off shots. Despite the complications between them, battle drew them into a familiar rhythm. Anticipating one another’s movements, seamlessly filling in gaps, working as one mind.

---