Page 73 of Curses and Casualties
“Very sacrificial chic,” Georgia mutters, but her hands shake as she ties the belt.
I catch her hands, stilling them. “You’re not a sacrifice. You’re my mate. My equal. My?—”
“Everything,” she finishes. “I know. You’re mine too.”
A shout from outside makes us both pause—someone calling coordinates for defensive positions.
We finish dressing and step outside to find the camp in organized preparation mode. Final weapons checks, last-minute spell weaving, the quiet efficiency of warriors getting ready.
Scarlett looks up from where she’s still sitting with Fenris, who’s now lifting his head slightly, strength returning. “You look good,” she says. “Very mystical.”
“Thanks. Keep Fenris safe,” Georgia tells her. “When this is all over, we’re going to help you figure this out.”
Scarlett’s jaw tightens. “Just worry about yourselves. We’ll be fine.”
Amara glides over, the other witches flanking her. “We need to move to the portal point. It’s a mile’s hike through rough terrain.”
“In these?” Georgia gestures at her silk robe.
“Would you prefer to change into your ceremonial attire in the middle of a battlefield?” Amara asks mildly.
“Point taken.”
We set off as a group, our strange procession winding through the forest. Georgia’s limp is more pronounced in the ceremonial sandals, but she waves off my offer to carry her. The sun sinks lower with each step, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson.
“This is it,” Amara says when we reach a small clearing. “When the time is right, I can portal you into the cave system from here.”
“Which means this is goodbye,” Scarlett says, stepping forward. She’s already stripped down to the bare essentials—just enough clothing to maintain modesty before she shifts. “For now.”
Georgia pulls her into a fierce hug. “Don’t do anything stupidly heroic.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” Scarlett’s voice is thick. “Just... complete the bond, okay? Make all this worth it.”
“We will,” I promise.
Erik approaches, already in his hybrid form. “The Úlfhéðnar are in position. We await your signal.”
“Remember,” I tell him. “Wait until you hear the first clashes from Scarlett’s team. Then come in hard from the north.”
He grins, all teeth. “We remember. Happy hunting, brother.”
Lucien sweeps into an elaborate bow. “Try not to die before you complete this ritual. I’ve grown rather fond of your dramatic little story.”
Jules gives Georgia a quick hug. “Trust the ritual—it will work.”
Ethan approaches last, his expression serious. “I’ll watch Scarlett’s back. Keep her from doing anything too heroic.”
“Good luck with that,” Georgia says, embracing him. “You stay safe too.”
Then they’re moving away, our friends and allies disappearing into the darkening forest. Scarlett shifts mid-stride, her wolf form powerful and deadly as she leads her team toward the compound. Erik’s warriors melt northward. The fae simply vanish. Soon it’s just us and the witches in the clearing, waiting.
“I feel like I should be with them,” Georgia whispers, pressing close to my side.
“I know.” I wrap an arm around her, feeling her tremble. “But this is our part. We have to trust them to do theirs.”
The first clash echoes across the valley—snarls and howls as Scarlett’s team engages. The pack’s response is immediate and vicious. Then comes the sound of magic meeting magic—crackling energy that makes the air taste of copper and ozone. The battle spreads like wildfire through the forest.
“Not yet,” Amara says when Georgia shifts restlessly. “Wait for the chaos to peak.”
