Samuel shook his head.
"Phin, Jesse, Gabriel, Ariana, me, and Mercedes." "I am getting bored," said the queen.
"Agreed.
The bargain is struck." Ariana gave Samuel a narrow-eyed look--I think it was because he put her before him.
But I agreed with him.
Get the helpless ones out first, then those who could best protect themselves.
That meant Ariana before Samuel.
"The bargain is accepted," agreed Ariana, and she stepped forward, embracing the flaming fae.
As soon as she touched him, her hair burst into flame as did her clothing, and what was not burnable dropped to the ground, including the stone Zee had given her to hold.
Its steady light was almost unnoticeable against the flames as the rest of Ariana smoldered a moment before lighting up as well.
"She holds earth, air, fire, and water," Samuel told me.
If I hadn't known him as well as I did, I might have thought he was disinterested.
"It is what made her able to do great magic after most of Underhill was out of reach.
Magic fire will do her no harm." The queen was speaking to the witch.
After she was finished talking, the witch stood up, a steel knife in her hand.
She gathered up her chains and moved to the farthest extent, which left her just able to reach the forest lord.
She plunged the knife into the tree-like creature, and it bellowed, shook, and bled amber fluid onto the knife.
The floor moved under my feet and the ceiling roots contracted and wiggled.
Samuel put a hand under my elbow to steady me--so I knew the blood had worked.
He could see through the glamour to the reality of what we dealt with.
The witch licked the knife and dipped a finger into the cut she'd made in the trapped fae.
She used that finger to draw symbols that hung in the air where she'd put them, and glowed a sickly yellow.
She pulled up her shirt to expose the skin of her belly, then she reached into the air and grabbed the symbols and slapped them onto her bare skin.
When she was finished, she walked back to the throne, sat down, and finished cleaning the blade with her tongue.
She caught me watching her and smiled.
Maybe she didn't know about the glamour, or maybe she thought I was afraid of cats.
One thing was for sure: she knew that I was scared of her.
I wished I knew what she had done.
Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be helpful to us.
And we needed help.