I DIDN’T RECOGNIZE THE NOISE THAT BLEATED FROM ME.
A howl? A sob?
Panic had turned my voice to acrid ash.
Not Mari, please, no— Not after Mother.
I tore for her, slumped and inert in the mud and leaves—
Here’s a rewritten version, maintaining the original essence and details:
Above me, feathers unfurled as a lionlike snarl indicated Griffin was transforming, his limbs snapping and stretching into the muscled hind legs of a lion, ending in sharp talons. The powerful beat of his vast, plumed wings, almost brushing the trees on either side of the glade, was drowned out by his roar—
The roar of a merciless predator. Followed by a piercing, jaw-splitting scream.
The last sound of the bandit’s life. I recoiled from the gruesome sounds of razor-sharp teeth tearing into flesh and sank to my knees beside Mari.
Kane was already there. “Is she breathing?”
“I’m fine,” Mari croaked before he could respond, her hands clutching her chest, her nails caked with dirt.
Shock. She was in shock.
I gently moved her hands aside to check for any wounds or blood—
—but there was nothing. Just a fine dusting of ash above her heart, as if she’d been struck by lightning.
She coughed violently, the wind knocked out of her, then pressed her hand against mine over her chest. “The amulet. It protected me.” She reached for the necklace at her throat.
Her eyes widened as she felt her bare neck.
“Mari,” I cautioned, removing my hand from her heart. “You’re all right.” I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring her or myself.
But she frantically searched through the dirt and leaves, her hands brushing over the arrow split in two by her power. “Where is it, where is it . . .”
“Mari . . .” I began, but words failed me as she salvaged the shattered necklace from the ground and let out a heart-wrenching sob.
“It’s all right. You’re fine—”
“Fine?”
“Mari, can you look at me?”
She scrambled to her feet, wobbling. “All of it, gone—” Griffin, back in human form, rushed past Kane to join us.
“What’s wrong? Is she hurt?” I didn’t look back at the bandit’s body. The blood on the commander’s arms and chest told me enough.
Griffin reached a rust-colored hand towards Mari, but she shied away.
“I just need—” She struggled to find the words. “There has to be a way to fix it.”
I swallowed, feeling like my lungs were in my throat. “You don’t . . . There was no power in the amulet.”
“What?” Mari’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it.
“I should have told you. It was wrong of me to keep the truth from you—”
“Should have told me what?”
I looked to Griffin and Kane for support. Their eyes were full of pity.
Pity for strong, independent Mari, reduced to tears over a necklace.
I steeled myself. “There isn’t any magic in the amulet. I’ve known for some time and thought you’d be better off not knowing. It was wrong, and I’m genuinely, truly sorry.”
She stared at me, her expression unreadable.
“Briar gave it to me years ago,” Kane added. “A beautiful gift. Very generous . . . but that’s all it was. A gift. Just . . . jewelry.”
“But you’ve seen the magic. The things I’ve done. It just saved me.”
“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “You saved yourself. You don’t need it, Mari.”
Kane’s voice was low. “We should leave before any of those Amber men come looking for the source of the noise.”
“We should head for Crag’s Hollow,” Griffin suggested softly. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
But Mari held her ground, her nightdress soaked in rain, her bare toes in the cold mud.
Kane and Griffin exchanged a look before moving ahead towards our makeshift camp.
“You all kept that from me? For weeks? I’ve been such a fool.” “No, you haven’t. Not at all—”
“It’s . . . it’s humiliating.” “Nobody thought that—”
“Finally, I think I’ve made one real friend—”
“Of course I’m your friend. So believe me when I say you will do magic without the amulet. You already have. And you’ll be better for it now because you’ll face your fear of failing.” My words trailed off, but it was too late. I’d already said them.
Mari winced, then pushed past me towards the camp.
Bleeding Stones. That didn’t come out right.
I’d seen her angry before, many times. But never hurt. Hurt was so much worse.
Kane and Griffin were already packing up our things when I followed her back, rain still pelting my face.
“I heard shouting,” Fedrik said, limping from his tent.
“Your leg—you’re putting weight on it.” One small mercy in a terrible night.
“I know. I didn’t think I’d walk again. You are some healer, Wen.” Fedrik shot me a warm look.
Our chaste, heatless kiss flashed in my mind, and I said nothing. Fedrik swallowed. “What’s going on?”
My head swam. I didn’t know how to begin to explain it all to him. My fight with Kane. The bandits . . . That I’d lied to Mari.
That I’d hurt her.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. And when he frowned, I added, “Can you pack up? We’re leaving for Crag’s Hollow.” Mari moved past us, stuffing wet, rain-covered mugs and tins into a sack. “I’ll help you in a moment, I just need to talk to Mari.”
“Please don’t,” she said, grabbing her dress and blouse from the clothesline we’d rigged between two palms.
“Mari, come on—”
She scoffed, turning to face me, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “I’ve wanted to be a witch my whole life. I finally find a way—to feel that glory, that success, to feel close to my mother—and it’s a fraud? That’s painful. But what’s worse is my closest friend, who I’ve stood beside through countless tragedies, lying to me for weeks and saying I’ll be better for it.” She shook her head. “I know you don’t care about yourself anymore, but I thought you’d at least care about me.”
Her words hit me like a slap. “What?”
“Damn it,” Griffin huffed, dropping his half-filled pack and sitting on a stump, as if to say, All right you two, get on with it.
“Oh, come on. You don’t care about anything these days, least of all the people around you. Watching you toy with Fedrik and Kane? Who does that?”
A sticky feeling ran through my veins. “You were the one who encouraged me to pursue something with Fedrik.”
One of the men swallowed a noise of surprise, but I couldn’t tell who. I didn’t want to.
“I thought it would make you happier!” Mari’s voice rose. “But I get it now. You don’t want human connection with anyone. That’s probably why you haven’t told Fedrik yet.”
“Mari,” I warned.
“Told me what?” I glanced from her to Fedrik, but only confusion was in his eyes.
Griffin saved me from having to answer. “Come on, witch. That’s not—”
“And you.” Mari whirled on him. “Talk about emotionally stunted. Holy Stones.”
Before she could tear into the man who had just killed for her, I cut in. “Give the commander a break. You’re one to talk about leading people on.”
Griffin stood, his fists nearly bursting through his pockets. “While you two fight like alley cats, I’m going to find some . . .” He inhaled raggedly. “I don’t know. Some peace and quiet.”
“Nobody was talking to you anyway,” Mari huffed. Griffin just pinched his brow in practiced patience and headed for the palm fronds. “We are friends,” Mari spat at me. “A word I’m beginning to think you never understood the meaning of.”
“And what about Ryder?”
“What about him?” She was nearly shrieking.
“You, like everyone else, are enamored of him.” The words stung as I said them. Another person preferring my charming brother. The sibling that wasn’t scarred and bruised. “Did you forget how he left me to risk my life when my family fled Abbington?”
I was surprised by the venom in my words. I hadn’t realized how much it hurt. That he’d let me walk to my death.
Mari straightened, as if ready to say something she’d been debating for a while. “No, I never did. And you should tell him that you haven’t either. But it’s easier not to, right? To keep everyone at arm’s length so it won’t hurt so much? I mean, Arwen, you barely even mourned the loss of your own mother.”
“She wasn’t my mother.” The words slipped out before I could process them.
Mari flinched as if hit.
“She wasn’t . . . Not really.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. Of course, she was your mother, Arwen. Whether or not she gave birth to you is beside the point. I never knew my mother, but if I had, I wouldn’t say her death didn’t matter.”
“I never said that.”
“No, but you act like it. And worse, like yours won’t matter, either.” She shook her head and smoothed the fabric in her arms as if our argument had wrinkled it. “I’m going to find Griffin. He can’t see three feet in front of him in this darkness.”
I didn’t stop her this time. I just sat on the ground and watched her storm off towards the fronds where Griffin had gone, and I didn’t blame him for the space between us.
My stomach twisted into a knot. She was right.
