The citizens of Aubade went rabid. They screamed at the blasphemy and outrage of the information. Men, women, and children alike hurled a cacophony of insults, their voices an unreadable outpouring of incensed sounds. Amaris’s breathing came in short, shallow pants as she watched the tide turn against Uaimh Reev. Vitriol rolled in from the stands, crashing against her from all sides of the coliseum like nauseating waves.

She couldn’t listen to them if she had any hope of survival. She scrambled to grab the emotions within her and bundle them tightly, refusing to let panic overwhelm her. Amaris tuned them out, stilling her heart against their anger. She screwed her gaze onto Moirai alone.

The queen spoke over them. “Not only do the reevers not seek peace against the dark evils that plague our land, but they would have us allow demons to roam freely, eating our children, raping our women, and murdering our citizens! Is this the peacekeeper of legend, or do we see her for the witch she is?”

The sun scorched Amaris, burning her white shoulders. Her hair felt hot from the light of the sun. Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping down from what was left of the elaborate braids atop her head. Despite the heat, a bone-chilling cold leeched through her body. Her pulse was weak and distant. She tried to wet her lips but found her mouth was dry. The audience may as well have been a brick wall for all the attention she gave it, her eyes focused solely on the crimson speck of the despicable queen.

“Good people, I give you your demon-loving reever of Uaimh Reev, enemy to the crown. Show the citizens if I am lying, reever! And strike your demon down!”

The sounds of hinges and planks broke her fixed gaze. Pulse quickening, she shot her attention to the noise. A door opened then within the stadium. It wasn’t the giant door opposite her but a wooden cell slightly off to one side.

She grabbed for the sword, holding the metal of its sunbaked hilt tightly as she looked to what was stumbling out of the dark space in the wall before the doors slammed and bolted behind him. She knew what the crowd saw the moment the shape lurched forward, its massive wings slashed to ribbons. While every citizen of Aubade shrieked at the ghastly, monstrous presence of an ag’imni, Amaris gaped in horror at the battered face of Gadriel.

Forty-Five

Irrespective of the distance between the stadium floor and the lofted alcove, Amaris saw the unmistakable gleam of Moirai’s purely evil smile. She locked eyes with the only other person in Farehold who could see that what stood before her was a dark-haired fae. When she tore her eyes from the queen, she was determined never to look at the crimson witch again.

“Gad,” her voice called across the coliseum floor, mouth dry with sand, dehydration, and fear.