Amelia clasped her hands under her chin. “She’s alive?”
Philippe frowned. “She is?” I’d forgotten how Philippe wasn’t exactly Veronique’s greatest supporter.
“She is absolutely alive.” My eyes prickled with tears. After so long, it felt wonderful to say those words. “Go find her.”
“Oh, I will!” Amelia sped toward the main doorway with Philippe following close behind. As I watched them leave, an odd sense of foreboding settled into my bones. I couldn’t help feeling like it was the last time I’d see either of them.
Chapter Thirty
The moment Philippe and Amelia stepped away I squirmed in Rowan’s arms. “I’m feeling better. I can walk by myself.”
Suddenly, the ballroom began to shake worse than ever before. Before us, the floor tiles erupted as a huge stone shape broke through. I gasped as I realized what was coming.
The gateway.
The Tsar was lifting the archway up. It burst forth from the lower dungeons to rest on a cloud of purple magick. This was hybrid power, yet again. My mouth fell open. I’d never heard of a spell that could do anything like this. What else was the Tsar’s hybrid magick capable of?
I pulled the vortex watch from my pocket. The dials on the watch face were spinning fast.
6 p.m.
Noon.
11 a.m.
3 a.m.
It was happening. The Tsar was draining the power of my people.
The purple mist cleared to show the Tsar standing in the center of the archway. His body appeared so still, it looked like he was caught in a stasis spell. After that, he began speaking the words to an incantation. All the blood drained from my face. I knew what that spell was.
An imploder spell. The Tsar was going to destroy part of the castle.
I gripped Rowan’s arm. “Get down!”
Rowan pulled me to him as he crouched on the floor. Angling himself away from the Tsar, Rowan held my back against his chest, his body shielding me from the upcoming spell.
Purple-colored smoke filled the air. More hybrid magick. The haze was so thick I could hardly breathe, let alone see anything. A series of deafening booms sounded. The ground shook beneath us. I couldn’t see anything past the purple smoke, but I could hear plenty. Wood snapping. Stone cracking. A heavy wind swept past us. A red dome of power surrounded both Rowan and me.
I let out a relieved breath. Rowan had cast a shield spell.
Even so, the magickal protection didn’t stop the wind from howling around us. It was like a tornado. How could that happen inside the castle? The gales roared louder than ever before. Then everything fell quiet. Rowan’s shield spell vanished. A heavy purple fog covered everything. The very air seemed to press in around me.
Little by little, the mist cleared.
The castle was gone. Only the flooring remained. I scanned father afield. As the clouds shifted, I could see more. Moonlight fell across what had once been the garden.
Every last tree and shrub had been leveled.
My breathing came in shallow gasps. That should have been impossible. At their worst, imploder spells might tear up the ballroom. I’d never heard of one taking out a whole league of territory. I yanked the vortex watch from my pocket. The time was back to the first hour. It was empty.
The Tsar had drained all the power thousands of Necromancers.
And I had failed.
Despite the solid feel of Rowan behind me, I began to tremble.
My mind turned into a blank slate of shock. Moving away from the comfort of Rowan’s arms, I forced myself to stand despite my wobbly legs. My right knee still shot through with a pain whenever I put any weight on it. Rowan stayed at my side, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. Some small part of me wanted to tell him to stop touching me. Most of me was glad he was still here, even if it did put him in danger.
I scanned the settling debris, looking for a safe path to escape. We needed to get out of here.
The clouds shifted again, allowing more moonlight to fall on what was once the Montagne castle. The place was nothing more than rubble.
And the Fantomes were here.
About twenty of them stood at the far end of what was once the ballroom. They looked tall and elegant in their dark robes, pale faces gleaming in the moonlight. They all stared at Rowan and me. None made a move to speak or attack.
They were waiting, same as we were.
The Tsar stepped out from under the gateway and walked straight toward us. Not good. The man looked just how I remembered from our last battle: tall and broad-shouldered with a whip-strong body and long black hair tied back with a leather strap. He scanned the grounds, his amber-colored eyes seething with hatred.