“Magic it is, then,” the Captain roars. Suddenly, dozens of vines slither across the floor, finding a few of the rebels and pinning them in place. Guards retrieve their swords from the ground and stab into the areas where the vines appear to wrap around something. As soon as the fae are hit, I release the magic around them, knowing that otherwise the guards will continue to stab aimlessly rather than look for more of us to catch.

Krantz runs toward the storage room, and I’m forced to follow him along with a few other fae who have made it out of the initial attack. When Krantz opens the door, the Captain notices and sends half of the group toward us. The rebels get inside before the contingent of guards catches up, then bar the door by bending the metal handles and wrapping plants around the tangled mess. I step into a corner, focused on keeping the bulk of the supply hidden from view.

“This is all there is?” Krantz roars. The guards bang on the door, warning that more are coming, and we should surrender now.

“Did you expect more?” I ask.

“Of course I did!” I can tell he’s panicking now. He didn’t have a backup plan in case they were noticed, relying too much on my magical abilities to shield them from view. “It’ll have to be enough,” he growls. “Everyone, grab two crates. I’ll impale them on their swords, and we’ll make a run for it!” I don’t take any crates, since they can’t see me, but I do keep the rebels hidden. I’m relying on the guards outside to stop them, so I don’t have to break my cover. “On the count of three,” Krantz says. “One, two…”

The doors blow apart before the rebels can make a run for it, shrapnel flying everywhere. Mist and dust obscure visibility as screams and groans sound from those injured by whatever blast that just occurred. It’s chaotic, and no one seems to know what’s going on. All the rebels are yelling at one another, fear in their voices now that they’re injured, and more guards seem to have arrived.

The dust finally settles, and Laurel stands in the door frame.

She is all Witch Queen, terrifying and lethal. Dressed in an all-black ensemble of form fitting pants with a black corset as her top and a black cape, that same unholy light I saw at Rusthelm blazing through her furious eyes. She looks right at me as she takes several slow steps into the room, eyes narrowing in anger and suspicion. The hairs on my arm stand up with goosebumps. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t absolutely terrified of her and what she might do to me if she doesn’t give me a chance to explain.