Page 34 of Tanglewood Magic (The Three Sisters 2)
“I didn’t know!” Isis cried. “The shadows brought you back. I thought he’d come with you.”
The full horror of the situation tore at Rhys’s heart. Medea was no longer pregnant. Her son had moved on when she’d died, and when the shadows had brought her back and knit her flesh under that writhing mass of darkness, it was without him. It was as if he had never been.
Could there be anything worse than losing a child having never known him? To wake up to find him gone. Taken from her before she could ever hold him, look upon him. Rhys wondered how she could bear it. Maybe she couldn’t. Medea collapsed onto her hands and knees, her grief pouring out of her in wretched sobs.
Somewhere in the distance, a dragon roared.
“We need to find a place to hide.” Rhys’s voice cracked. He couldn’t allow himself to spiral with Medea, not until they were safe. “Somewhere we can rest and make a plan.”
“Where can we go?” Circe asked, her expression pleading.
“Brody might take us in,” Isis whispered. “Or we could shelter in the Ice Forest. The demon who lives there keeps visitors away.”
Rhys shook his head. “I don’t think we should risk Darnuith. I have a friend from Rogos—”
“Daluk, the scribe,” Circe remembered. “You said you’ve been working with him on the gila vine problem.”
“I have, and I have the antidote with me, along with the serum to control the vine’s growth. I planned to deliver it to him after I visited with Pern and Viktor Franwise, but I never got the chance. He’ll want what I have. He’ll help us.”
Circe turned to her sister. “Isis, are you strong enough to take us there by shadow?”
Isis shook her head. “I told you. I’m drained. I’m barely strong enough to carry myself twenty steps.”
“I left my broom at the palace when I rescued you,” Rhys said. “We can’t fly.”
Medea wiped under her swollen eyes. “We can take the Sanguine River. It’s neutral territory, and the cargo ships are notorious for taking bribes.”
“My queen, everyone knows who you are. Even with a bribe, you’re conspicuous. Eleanor will top anything we offer.” Rhys frowned at Medea’s gown. She was covered in blood from the ritual, and before, when the dragons around her were slain. All of them were smeared with it from handling her body.
“Circe…” Medea met her sister’s eyes with an unasked question.
Circe nodded. “I can do it.” She waved her wand, and Medea transformed. The gown she was wearing turned into a commoner’s tunic and leggings. Her nose broadened, and her hair paled from deep black to a rich shade of honey.
Medea looked down at herself and cleared her throat. “Problem solved.”
A dragon-shaped shadow passed between them and the moon. “We need to move. I think it smells us.” Rhys helped Medea to her feet.
All at once, tree branches snapped, and a bark-colored dragon tore through the forest in front of them. Its purple heart glowed as its lungs filled with fire. Rhys braced himself to be burned to a crisp.
“Cogitatio!” Medea yelled, crossing her arms. Fire blasted toward them, then stopped, curving around Medea’s magical shield. How was she doing this? She had to be weak given what she’d just been through, and she was projecting a shield large enough to protect them all.
Eventually, the dragon’s fire petered out, and Medea dropped her shield, panting.
Circe flicked her wand, and a spell shot bright purple from the tip. The dragon transformed into a rat who coughed a harmless puff of smoke. Rhys gaped at her in unapologetic wonder.
“It won’t last,” she yelled. “Dragons are resistant to magic!”
Even as he watched, the rat’s eyes glowed purple and its fur transformed into scales. He grabbed Circe’s hand. “Run!”
ChapterSeventeen
As Circe had predicted, the spell didn’t last. The only reason it worked at all was that she’d practiced on Tavyss and understood dragon anatomy enough to aim for the vulnerable space between the scales near his heart. Still, it wasn’t enough. She could hear the dragon roaring behind them as they sprinted toward the river that separated Paragon from Nochtbend.
But it was dark in the woods. The moon wasn’t enough to breach the thick cover of the forest, and she tripped over the uneven ground. Rhys helped her up and then tripped himself. They leaned on each other, hearts pounding and drenched with sweat, until the trees finally parted and the river came into view.
Next to a bridge that crossed from the kingdom of Paragon to the kingdom of Nochtbend was a small port used for trade, and just as Medea had hypothesized, a boat waited there. There was a man on the deck, staring in their direction as if he could see them clearly, although they moved silently and in shadow. It bothered her, this unnatural sight. Only when they drew nearer did Circe realize why it troubled her so much. The creature was neither dragon nor witch. This, she realized, was a citizen of Nochtbend. A vampire.
The man was stunning, as if the night had woven a body for itself out of dreams and stars. His hair was black, as were his eyes, his skin as pale as the moon above his head. Full red lips framed a proportionally wide mouth that balanced out the relative size of his eyes. All together with an exceedingly fit physique, he was a sight that drew her magnetically, in a way that could only be explained by magic.
