CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 101

My heart thrashed a frantic beat, leaving me breathless and dizzy, my palms sweat-sticky and fingertips numb. Time marched on—seconds, minutes, hours—I had no idea how far into the evening we'd reached while I stood upon the stone pedestal trembling, my dress shivering and scattering glitter like stardust around my figure.

The Emporium was loud and chaotic. Modern music clashed against the ancient building with its stark masonry. Imagine Dragons's 'Natural,' with its sinister hymn, blended into the hum of feverish conversation and the exuberant barks of laughter. The attention of the men and women gathered on the rooftop was fixated on me, bright eyes sly and hungry, mouths working in an exaggerated manner as they spoke to one another, hoping for a cringeworthy moment to later gossip about. But I didn't see them. I didn't hear them. I stared through them as my mind arced inward, spinning with a singular thought.

I was going to die.

And soon—whispered a dark, cruel place in me.

I'd battled to find the mites in my plan to escape the Crowthers only to discover it was a wasted effort, futile with the Alverac hanging over my head like a sword. If the wild magic was as dangerous as Sirro believed, I'd be dead before the Witches Ball even took place.

Stone gritted beneath my high heels as I shifted my position to glance toward the rooftop's foyer where Master Sirro had left earlier. When would I see him again to give him an answer to his proposition? All the Horned God wanted in exchange was my body. But for how long? A night, a week, a month? Maybe forever?

Would it matter?—that dark place inside my mind murmured.

A thick knot of guilt clogged up my throat.

There was only one way to survive.

Only one way to ensure I kept breathing.

And that was by taking up Master Sirro's offer.

The Horned God would ensure Graysen met his end, but could I make that choice?

In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of mist billowing outward. Tulle floated like a drifting cloud around me as I twisted to peer at the wall of darkness behind the line of ancient columns just as Mrysst emerged from its depth, shadows washing wide as she stepped closer to a pillar. She leaned against it, her hand curled around its grooved girth, droplets of blood smearing her fingers as she poked them through the latticework of black flowers.

Dread drew sharp, pointy teeth along my skin, its bleak, wintry breath making me shiver. The Crowthers were desperate for Jurgana's attention, and here was her shy sister who hid behind a veil of age-stained lace, already curious about my presence at the Emporium. I had many desirable qualities that could be hacked from my body or pulled free like colorful threads from a tapestry. But power, real power Sirro had told me, the kind the witches would slaver over, was in the fact that I wouldn't bend the knee. And the Crowthers hadn't considered that aspect of me.