Garden of Serpents (The Demon Queen Trials #3)(43)

“Reciting the names of the Lilu dead or calling up a distraction?” I snapped.

But something about the glacial magic radiating from her body told me this was more than just a trick. The woman was eerily beautiful, with gray eyes and a wicked smile. She wore a blue velvet cape around her shoulders. Underneath, blood stained her white gown in great streaks of crimson.

My jaw tightened. This really wasn’t the time for…whatever the hell this was.

Tightening my fingers into fists, I turned back to the sea once more. I had the sense that Alaric was barreling toward us under the waves, homing in.

Orion turned to face the newcomer, nodding at her. “Who the fuck are you?” Irritation laced his tone.

I rolled my eyes. Maybe he wasn’t always charming. Maybe he saved that for special occasions, like trying to convince me we should murder everyone in Osborne.

From behind me, I heard her speak in a faintly French accent: “But, Your Majesty.”

I glanced back again. Her breath frosted the air with a cold mist, and the sound of her wintry voice sent a chill down my spine.

“Your Majesty, you summoned me yourself. And here, in the City of Thorns, I will feast on demon blood.” She turned her cold gaze to me, her smile vulpine. “And I will start with the succube who would be la reine. It is as we discussed.”

“La sorcière de Brocéliande,” Orion murmured.

“You summoned her?” I hissed.

Turning back to the sea, I glimpsed Alaric rising from the waves—human once more, the sea pouring off him. And there was the blackthorn crown. My wings burst from my back. Just as my feet left the rocks, a clawed hand gripped my wings and threw me down hard to the rocky shoreline with shocking force.

Pain screamed through my wings, and I stared up at la sorcière as she leapt on top of me. She gripped me by the hair and smashed the back of my head into a sharp rock—once, twice—oh, gods, she was breaking my skull open.

I had to think…I had to think…

My head was broken, and I had no words to think with.

I moaned on the rocks.

Fangs bared above me. “Les démons murdered my family, and I have come to feast on your kind.”

I stared dumbly as the witch drew a long, sharp silver blade. “Your lover and I share one thing—a lust for la vengeance.”

She raised her blade above my heart, and the world seemed to tilt beneath me.

As she started to bring it down, a blast of fire rolled across the horizon from the place where Orion had been standing. Searing flames engulfed me, but the fire didn’t burn me. It gave me life, healing my broken skull like a salve of flames.

La sorcière de Brocéliande blazed above me, screeching with pain in the inferno. Her cries withered in the blaze as the fire consumed her.

But there was another figure here, burning in the inferno. Screaming to the heavens. Through the fire, I caught sight of the writhing figure of Alaric, his crown blazing like a torch.

No.

I pushed myself up, trying to reach for it. But the Visigoth king burned to cinders before me, and the crown crumbled in my fingertips.

A cloud of smoke and ash wafted above me, mixing with the sea spray. The flames started to die down, sputtering in the crashing waves.

I stood, stunned, on the hot rocks. Shaking, I tried to dust the ashes off myself, but I was so wet, they formed a sort of gray paste.

I swallowed hard. A gray paste composed of two witches…

My gaze flicked up to where the crowd had been, but they’d all fled. I could still hear them screaming in the distance. The stones around us had been blackened with the force of the blast.

I stared at Orion. “That was you, wasn’t it? That was your fire.”

“She nearly killed you,” said Orion, sounding shocked. “I was waiting for you to fight her.”

I touched the back of my head. It felt disturbingly dented, but there was definitely no longer a gaping wound. “I was having a hard time remembering how to summon magic with my head cracked open.” I glanced at the rocks, sickened to see gore glistening on the stones. If I weren’t a demon, I’d be dead. “She said you asked her to kill me. Is it just me, or is this a recurring theme, Orion?”

He’d gone completely pale again. “I didn’t summon her. Of course I didn’t. She loathes demons. She was lying.”

“So everyone is lying but you?” I said sharply. “All your soldiers and la sorcière de Brocéliande?”

His expression darkened. “I just saved your life, Rowan. Again.”

I clenched my jaw. True, he had. Several times. Right now, I couldn’t figure out what was real and what was a lie.

I sighed. “You crisped Alaric.”

Orion inhaled a deep breath. “Well, I didn’t hold back.”

I glanced out at the waves, which were stained claret under the rising sun. Disappointment coiled through me. “Okay. We need to raise him again, I guess, to start the trial over. Though I imagine he’ll be a bit furious about being burned to death. And I need some Advil.”

“Ah, Rowan.” Orion’s eyes twinkled as he crossed to me over the rocks, graceful as ever. “You don’t remember what happens if the first trial is a draw?”

My throat tightened, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “You get to choose the next trial.”