Page 43 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
Slowly Circe stood. She was exhausted, but she dug deep and, with a flick of her wrist, sent a spell into the rat she’d shielded with her body. Rhys transformed back into a man. He surveyed the devastation around him and hobbled toward his clothes.
She was about to bring Medea back when movement to her left caught her eye. She limped over to a charred figure writhing at the edge of the scorched earth. By some miracle or magic, Zelaria was still alive.
Circe hovered over her, anger bolstering her power. Zelaria’s skin was black, and she was bleeding in places, but her eyes followed Circe. She was still in there.
“Isn’t this a surprise? You’re supposed to be dead.” Circe echoed the words the witch had said to her sister. She scoffed. “I’ve never shied away from a challenge.Metamorfóno.”
The once-powerful Zelaria transformed into a dung beetle. Rhys arrived at her side, looked at the beetle, then at Circe.
“No rule against killing a bug,” he said.
She raised her boot and ground Zelaria under her heel.
* * *
Rhys was a healer.He was a man who’d devoted his life to ending people’s suffering. From childhood, he’d hated to watch anything die. But despite all that, he couldn’t bring himself to feel the least bit of remorse for Zelaria.
He felt nothing but relief as Circe wiped her remains from the bottom of her boot and directed a spell toward the narwit that was once her sister. Medea appeared in a squat where the small pink animal had just stood. Rhys thanked the Fates that her eyes had returned to normal again and that the horrific celestial fire she’d been putting off was contained again. Isis ran to her and helped her dress.
“Circe,” he whispered.
She turned to him, exhausted now. She tucked her wand away as if she couldn’t bear the weight of it in her hand any longer. She tucked a few stray strands of her dark hair behind her ears before she spoke. “I’ve been thinking, Rhys. With Zelaria and the royal guards dead, it might be safe for you to return to your apothecary. You can get Daluk to vouch for you that you were in Rogos the entire time. Deny your involvement in our escape. There’s likely no hard proof against you, and with us gone, they’ll welcome you back with open arms. The people of Darnuith always loved you. They’ll come around once we’ve left.”
“I’d like to go home,” he said. “The only problem is, I don’t think my home is in Mistcraven anymore.”
She sighed. “I’m sure Everfield would take you in. Anyone would.”
“It’s funny how having one’s life flash before their eyes will change a person.” Rhys had looked out through those wards at Zelaria and the deadly magic that surrounded them, and only one thing had crossed his mind. “When I thought I would die today, all I could think of was how content I was to die with you.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Rhys…”
“I have loved you, Circe, in a way I never imagined my heart could again. And the thought of being apart from you feels more like death than what happened just moments ago.”
She wiped a hand over her face. “I’m too tired for this. What are you trying to say?”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m saying that you are surely a master of transfiguration because you’ve transformed this heart. I am not the same. I never will be. And I can’t go home because home is right here with you. Wherever you go. Wherever you are. That’s home to me now.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re coming with us to the new world?”
He nodded. “I am. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Marry me, Circe. In this world, or the next. Bind yourself to me.”
She wrapped her arms around him, her body leaning into his strength. “I think I’d better say yes. It would be hard living the rest of my life without my heart. It’s yours, you know. Always has been.”
He cradled the base of her skull and sealed the promise with a kiss. Only when she started to laugh did he pull back. “What’s so funny?”
She raised her wand, and a rat’s whisker he hadn’t noticed before retracted into his cheek. “Missed one,” she said.
He wiped a hand across his smile and met her lips again.
Epilogue
The ship that Circe found herself on several weeks later was nothing like the ships of Ouros. It was made entirely of wood and metal with no magic to hold it together. A cloth sail caught the wind over her head and propelled the ship forward. It pitched from side to side with every monstrous wave in this strange, tumultuous sea.
They’d traveled from Everfield around the island of Aeaea to a place called Crete, where they boarded a ship to Provence, France using gold they’d taken from the palace. Gold, it seemed, was as valuable in this world as in Ouros.
