Something for everyone!”
Milo shoved his way over to me, breathing hard, as if he were struggling to control his fury.
I cocked a brow, unfazed. “Is this the part where you intimidate me with your magic, warlock?”
“Leonora is mine, avian. She wants to be with me.” He pounded a fist against his chest. “Go ahead. Ask her.”
Did he have any idea what he’d just admitted?
I remained rooted in place as dancers glided past us. Milo had used present tense, as if he’d spoken to the witch recently. Had he?
Had Ashleigh told him this at the party? Or had the conversation taken place at the palace?
Had Leonora taken over? Had she faded again or did she rule?
How long until our war restarted?
A sharp pain tore through me, and I desperately wanted to punch someone or something. In our first two lives, I’d only ever glimpsed Leonora’s potential. What she could have been, if evil hadn’t brewed in the marrow of her bones. This time, I’d gotten to spend time with her before she became a bloodthirsty, blue-eyed witch. She was witty and exciting. A green-eyed enchantress. I enjoyed her company. One day away from her, and I craved her company.
How easy it would be to hate her if she were the Leonora of old. How easy it would be to do as my family suggested and end her.
But I still wasn’t ready to lose Ashleigh.
I shot into the air, saying no more to the warlock. I headed straight for the palace. To my consternation, the balcony doors to my bedroom were locked, the curtains drawn. No crack in the fabric.
I knocked and I waited, but the princess didn’t open up. No noise seeped through the glass.
Flapping my wings, I hovered in place, stewing. Where was she?
The tracker spell flashed a map inside my head, and X marked the spot. She was here, just beyond those doors. What was she doing? Had she heard and ignored me?
“There you are.” Queen Raven’s voice made my ears feel as if they were being scrubbed with sand.
I watched her approach as she flew over. “Now isn’t the time, Mother.”
She stopped in front of me anyway. Outlined by sunlight and sky, she reminded me of a painting I’d once seen as a boy. A warrior goddess on the battlefield, her enemies scattered at her feet in pieces. Raven Skylair had never been a soft woman. If my siblings or I had ever dared to shed a tear, we were whipped and told tears were a luxury for the weak.
The tears she’d shed over me as a boy had kept me from cutting her from my life completely.
“I’m curious,” she said, maintaining her position. “When will be the time to slay Leonora? After she’s killed you and murdered our people? Does her father know who and what she is?”
No pleasantries, then. Just right back to the volley of complaints.
If Philipp knew anything about Leonora, I hadn’t been the one to tell him. But I doubted he had a clue. As power hungry as he was, he would curry Leonora’s favor.
“You will not speak to the king,” I informed my mother. Frustration mounted, sharpened by anger’s blade. “You will not look at, touch, or speak to Princess Ashleigh. You will not even speak about her.”
“You cannot avoid this conversation, Saxon.”
“I didn’t avoid it. I ended it. If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a meeting...with myself.” I flew past her, heading for camp.
Following me would have smacked of weakness and desperation, and she knew it. She remained behind, just as I’d expected.
I would prepare for the next bonus competition, I decided. It kicked off tomorrow morning—a new bonus round would be held every day, even the days we fought a mandatory battle...the next of which would take place in five days. The same number of days as my separation with Ashleigh.
Five days without hearing her lilting voice.
Five days without breathing in her sweet scent.
Five days without matching wits with her cunning mind.
I cursed.
* * *
The next five days passed with incredible slowness. I didn’t sleep. I barely ate. I couldn’t relax. The vitriol spewed by my mother and sister stopped only when I competed. Some battles I won, some I lost because I was too focused on ruining Milo’s chances for success. Despite my efforts, he’d gained a couple victories of his own.
He wants what’s mine.
The warlock and I had not had a chance to speak one-on-one a second time. We’d only gotten to exchange glares. So badly I’d