Page 99 of When Wishes Bleed
Brecan was terrified, and for good reason. “We need to leave. Now,” he ordered.
“And then what? We need a plan. If we waltz back into Thirteen, my mother might bind us the same way she has the others.”
We talked in circles for hours, but in the end, we agreed it was too risky to spirit away to Thirteen. We had to try to reach someone there and find out what exactly was happening, who was helping Cyril, if anyone, and where the witches and members of the Circle were being held.
Tauren returned near daybreak, just as light from the sun began to yawn across the sky. The whites of his eyes were red and his clothing was rumpled, his hair disheveled.
“We think it’s best to tell the invitees what’s happening,” he announced. “If they want to return home, so be it. For now, we need to figure out what’s happening in Thirteen, while acting as if all is well on the telecast.”
“I can send something to spy on Cyril,” Mira offered. “How attached are you to your garden statues, Prince?” she grinned.
“I’m not nearly as attached to them as I am my own head.”
Brecan snorted, pushing away from where he leaned against the wall. He, Tauren, and I followed Mira to the north garden where a statue stood in the center of a small pond. It was of a woman, so detailed that even her tears tugged at my heart. The draping gown she wore showed every crease and fold as it hung from her ample body. She poured water from a clay pot into the pond below. A concrete dove with outstretched wings was perched on her shoulder.
Mira walked on the water’s surface and called on her affinity for water, reaching up and using her other ability on the stony dove. A wing twitched. Then the other. The fowl’s head craned from side to side, then its smooth stone faded, transforming to pale gray feathers. Bits of rock sprinkled into the fountain, pebbling the surface.
My breath caught in my throat when the dove cooed. Mira held out her hand and brought the dove close, whispering instructions as her free hand slid down its soft, downy feathers. She raised her hand and the dove flapped its wings and took flight, heading toward Thirteen.
The sculpted woman haunted me. The artist had chiseled the dove as a comfort to her, and without it she looked inconsolable.
The sky lightened as we waited with Mira, who watched the world through the eyes of the dove she brought to life. Tension settled among the rest of us, thick enough that even the light morning breeze couldn’t disperse it.
Tauren looked at me. “My father wants to have an emergency meeting with the invitees this morning. After that, he will consult his generals and we’ll make a plan.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my mother would undoubtedly dash his plans, no matter how masterful they were laid out.
Even though she hadn’t raised me, the longer my mother breathed above the soil, the more I felt I knew her. She would strike hard and fast, and likely first. And if I was right, she wasn’t a patient woman. Cyril would use dark magic to give her the edge, which meant that we needed to be ready for her, and I would need to use my darkness against hers. Brecan would oppose. I glanced at him to find he was already watching me.
“She’s getting close. I can feel the magic from the wall,” Mira suddenly reported, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her breathing became erratic.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, fingertips biting into my palms.
“She’s across it, but something isn’t right. This doesn’t feel right,” she said slowly, eyes darting in every direction.
“Is the bird just spooked? Some animals don’t like the feel of magic,” Brecan offered.
“No,” Mira said sharply. Her eyes widened. “No, fly away!” she screamed, then clutched her chest in pain. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and let out a guttural scream. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d been run through. “The dove is mortally wounded, but I saw…”
“What did you see?” I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and waiting until she took several deep breaths to compose herself. “What happened to the dove?”
“Someone shot an arrow through her heart; a male witch with long, stringy dark hair. I’ve never seen him before. He’s not from Thirteen.” She rubbed her chest over her heart, feeling the residual pain of the animal. “The dove… her spirit is almost gone, now. She’s on the ground, staring up at the canopy.”
The witch was the same one who shot the arrow at Tauren. I was sure of it. Loyal to my mother and willing to do her bidding, he was also on my short list of people to hang. He and the girl who’d attempted to poison my prince.
Mira couldn’t take a deep breath until the dove died. When it did, a tear fell from her eyes, making her look more like the statue of the woman in the pond than my friend for a moment. She wiped the tear away. “She’s trapped all the witches in the Center.”
“How is that possible?” Brecan breathed.
“Dark magic,” Mira and I answered at the same time.
“You felt it the moment the dove crossed the border,” I whispered. “Didn’t you?”
Mira shuddered. “Yes. It’s powerful… like nothing I’ve felt before.”
Fate came alive inside me, bringing forth an image of the Son of Night. Was he involved somehow?
A muscle ticked in Tauren’s jaw. “We have to free them.”