Page 38 of A Reign of Roses
“No,” Briar said. “She wouldn’t.”
“None of us—especiallyArwen—could stop believing in you ifwe tried,” I said, kneeling so our eyes aligned. “That’s not how friendship works.”
“I’m going to fail you both. I know I am.” She cut her eyes to Briar. “Without the amulet…”
“Your magic was never born from the amulet,” Briar said. “As I’ve told you nearly every day, little witch. The amulet was a mere crutch, but you can access that power all on your own.”
“You’re wrong.” Mari shook her head at both of us. “I’m not worth anything alone.”
I didn’t have endless time to play psychoanalyst. I had a father to kill and a woman to die for. I ran a hand down my face, over my bearded cheeks and chin. “None of us are. That’s why I need your help.”
But Mari didn’t seem to hear me. Her wheels were turning. “Even if we opened a portal…there won’t be any way back to this realm unless you take us with you. We’d have to do it again.”
Briar’s words held an edge of foreboding as she said, “He won’t need one.”
We both cut our gazes in her direction.
“What?” Mari’s voice had ratcheted up an octave. “Why?”
“He’s full-blooded now. It’s a one-way ticket he’s after.”
In an effort not to hide how wrong she was about her first belief, I schooled my face.
But Mari only stared me down. “That…that shouldn’t be possible.How?”
“A sorcerer,” I said. “In the Pearl Mountains.”
Mari’s head shook softly as she processed the weight of my words. Then her eyes landed on mine once more. This time they welled with remorse. “Kane, you can’t.”
“No.” My laugh was a mere rasp. “Not without your help.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she snipped, but her expression was one of horror. “It’s a suicide mission.”
“Mari,” I said softly. “This is what Arwen died for. This is what I need to do—whatweneed to do, so that her death is not in vain.”
“That is some faulty logic. Your death won’t bring her back, Kane. It won’t right that egregious, universal, catastrophic wrong. And you.” She turned to Briar. “You’re just going to let him do this?”
Sympathy emanated from Briar as she studied Mari’s pained expression. She lifted one elegant hand and brushed a curl from Mari’s face, a strangely maternal gesture. “Lazarus must die. For what he’s done. For what he plans to do. For Arwen. This is how we end his life.”
“I’ve already lost Arwen…” Mari said, her voice hoarse. “I can’t lose anyone else.”
“If you don’t help us now”—my next words stung more to imagine than to utter—“we will lose them all.”
Mari said nothing to that, and I couldn’t think past the truth I’d laid bare. How much more suffering was in store for all of us if I failed.
An owl hooted from beyond the balcony doors. Somewhere farther away, horses and their carriages stomped rhythmic noises into the city’s cobblestone, and a slight breeze brushed curled strands of red around Mari’s chin.
“Together?” Briar asked.
“Fine,” Mari muttered in the end, standing from the bed and chewing her lip. “I can try.”
Briar stood, too, and lifted her arms to the wooden beams across the ceiling. Mari copied the movement. They began to utter a low, practiced spell, and I wondered if Briar had already attempted thiswith Mari before to no avail. Perhaps in hopes—or with faith—that I’d succeed in finding the White Crow.
A static charge rent the room and sent every hair on my body standing on end.
“You’re not controlling the magic,” Briar said to Mari, though both their eyes were closed. “You’re letting it play with you.”
“I am trying my best,” Mari bit through gritted teeth.
