Page 112 of Wrath of the Fae

‘Are you sure?’

I raise my brow. ‘She’s my sister. I’m sure.’

‘Raven…’ she whispers. ‘I’m so sorry. That day at the arch. I should have intervened. I should have stopped them from putting you under it and-’

‘Yeah. You should have. You should also have stopped them from locking up my mother and-’

‘She did as she was ordered,’ Reid interrupts. ‘El had no say-’

‘I am sorry for my part in what happened with your mother,’ El cuts over him, giving him a harsh glare as she does. ‘I can speak for myself, Reid,’ she hisses before her softened face returns to me. ‘I am so sorry for lying to you when I should have been brave enough to tell you.’

‘Everyone is so sorry,’ I mumble, rubbing my eyes and rolling the aches from my muscles. ‘I’ve never had so many people say how sorry they are in all my life.’ Before they can go on about the same shit I have no interest in hearing, I hold up my hand. ‘I didn’t come here for your apologies. Show me your vows.’

‘Excuse me?’ Reid says sharply.

‘Your vow that you made to the king. Show it to me.’

‘How do you know… Rhea,’ he sighs. ‘Raven, there’s nothing you can-’

‘Just show me the fucking vow, Reid.’

He sits and faces me, lifting his shirt and showing me the same markings Rhea had over her heart.

I rest my hand over it.

It speaks to me. I can communicate with it. And just like I did with Rhea’s, I tell it to stop.

I tell it to end and go.

When I remove my hand, the markings are gone.

‘How… the hell… did you-’

I turn to Cyrus.

‘Your turn.’

He lifts. I remove it.

‘El?’ I ask, facing her.

She’s already there with her dress pulled down.

Hers is removed too.

I look at my hand as they all admire, whisper, and gasp.

Black runes have appeared on the tips of my fingers.

Cyrus snatches my hand. ‘What’s that?’

‘Complicated,’ I reply, pulling it away. ‘We need to move. Your vow has been removed. You are no longer tied to the king, and we have a way out, so let’s go.’

I get to my feet and head to the door. Reid grabs my arm to stop me.

I have him against the wall in a second, my hand around his throat and my powers broiling beneath my skin. His face starts to redden as I squeeze. Perhaps it’s my anger, or maybe the fact I just manipulated those ancient symbols, but my wings come out. They cast him in shadow as I lift him from the ground.

Despite that, he holds up his hand to the others when they go to intervene.

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