Beau hissed as I shoved him behind a garbage can, but it mattered not—dozens of heads snapped in our direction. I exhaled a heavy breath. A resigned one. Slowly, I rose to my feet. Beau followed with a curse, muttering, “Have you ever heard of manifestation?”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.” He lifted his Balisarda and knife with white knuckles as three witches broke apart from the rest. The others refocused their attention on something at the center of the group. Something that . . . rattled. Eyes narrowing, I stepped closer. “Actually, don’t. I’d love to hear the next step in your let’s find the bloodthirsty witches plan—”

The clink of metal. Thick rings.

A chain.

My brow furrowed as the three witches moved shoulder to shoulder, blocking my view. It was a chain. An ancient, crusted chain. From the glimpse I’d gotten, it’d looked long enough to encircle half of Cesarine. Wide enough too. A memory harried my subconscious, half-realized. I’d seen this chain in Chateau le Blanc’s treasury. “Hello, princelings,” the middle witch crooned.

With a jolt of shock, I recognized her amber face from Modraniht. It felt like years ago. “Elaina.”

“No.” Beau winced as they drew to a halt before us. Identical black hair and narrow noses. Full lips. They twisted with identical menace. “That one is Elinor. I’d recognize her aura of disdain anywhere.” He pointed a finger to his teeth, flashing a charming smile. “Do you remember me now, sweetheart? Do you see the opportunity you missed?”

“Oh, I remember you, Burke. You made me look a fool in front of the entire coven.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” her sister said, either Elaina or Elodie.

“We’ve been looking for you both all night,” the other finished. “Thank you for making this easy.”

Though all three crooked their fingers at once, nothing happened. No patterns reared to strike. Beau waggled his Balisarda at them, grinning anew. “Something wrong?”

Elinor bared her teeth. “Ask your sister.”

“What does that—”

They attacked before he could finish, slipping knives from their sleeves and launching toward us. Elaina and Elodie at me. Elinor at him. Though quick—though furious—the sisters clearly hadn’t trained for physical combat sans magic. With a sense of dread at those chilling last words, I dispatched the first of them swiftly while Beau battled Elinor strike for strike. Her sister’s blood still dripped from my blade when I turned to face Elodie.

The earth beneath us rolled.

I staggered at the movement, glancing down incredulously. Cobblestones broke to pieces. All around, foundations cracked. Tiles littered the street. And Zenna—from somewhere above, she let out a mighty roar. The witches ahead tensed, renewing their efforts with haste. Half had climbed the drainpipes, stringing the chain taut between rooftops, like a wire. Magic coated everything.