Ever After (Rachel Morgan)

wind, remembering when we’d walked from the church to the basilica in the ever-after. There were no surface demons here now, and I wondered where they were. “It’s awful,” I said softly. “It used to be woods, springs, and fog. All of it, the entire ever-after.”
    Trent’s attention fell to me. “How do you know?”
    I shrugged. “I eavesdropped on one of Al’s dreams. I think I know what they used to look like, too.” My head turned. “They were the slaves of elves once, weren’t they? And they rebelled. Got the best of you.”
    His expression went empty. “Rumor has it.”
    “And you tried to destroy them.”
    Trent took a slow breath. I could feel Bis paying attention. “I wouldn’t argue with that.”
    “And now you’re helping me save them.”
    Nodding, he smiled with half his mouth again. “My goal was to save you, but yes, I suppose I’m saving them as well.”
    Bis jerked. An instant later, I felt it too. Someone was coming. With three wing flaps, Bis was on my shoulder, the healed line singing. I pulled heavily on Al’s line, and it hummed through me, drowning out the damage we had yet to repair in other lines. Trent’s head came up in shock, feeling it as well.
    “Okay, time to see if these rings were worth lying to me about,” I said, putting my back to Trent’s and readying myself.
    “Time to see if you’re as good as I think you are,” Trent whispered, and I blinked as he raised a circle with the line I had drawn in the dirt. The energy didn’t exactly flow through me, but I felt it as keenly as if it had. In my mind, whispers of spells I’d never heard of breathed and glowed with the sound of distant music. My lips parted in awe. Trent’s magic. And if I was seeing his internal spell book, he was probably seeing mine.
    Along with his wisdom came Trent’s desire for Ku’Sox’s end. His anger and hatred flooded me, almost sending me down. Trent was driven, and through the rings, I saw the depths of depravity that Ku’Sox subjected him to, what he had casually threatened his child with, and the extent Trent would go to in order to stop him. His emotions joined mine, Ku’Sox becoming ugly and sordid in our shared view as our comparisons made a more perfect picture of his broken, lacking soul. My eyes welled, and Bis touched my cheek in concern.
    Trent turned to me, shock in his eyes. It was as if I’d never truly seen him, and it shook me to my core. I blinked fast, wanting to touch him but afraid.
    With a pop of air, Ku’Sox was abruptly standing between us and the rising moon. Snarling, he took two running steps, throwing a black ball of hate like a pitcher. I stiffened, still lost in Trent’s mind. Ku’Sox hardly seemed to matter compared to the depth of connection the rings could foster. I’d felt nothing like this when Quen had worn them.
    Trent looked to Ku’Sox. At the last moment, I pulled deeply on the line Trent and I were connected to, feeling our circle strengthen. Our shared emotion about Ku’Sox—neither entirely his, entirely mine, or entirely real—echoed through us as we stood unbowed as Ku’Sox’s magic sped forward, shedding silver sparkles like pixy dust, the very air hissing from the assault.
    It hit our barrier with a shower of energy, lighting the inside of our circle with a black haze. Bis’s tail tightened, and I heard in Trent’s and my mind, the drums of his wild magic. They blended with the humming purity of Al’s line—and grew strong. There was no hesitation in Trent’s abilities as there had been between Quen and me, and a small part of me wondered why.
    “No monologue,” I taunted as Ku’Sox took in his lack of result. “I like that.”
    “I’m going to eat you from the inside out, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” Ku’Sox intoned, his hunched form circling us like a big black cat.
    His words iced through me, and Trent shuddered.
    “Rachel?” Bis warbled, and I turned to follow Ku’Sox, backing up a step at Trent’s clenched jaw and pained expression. Ku’Sox was trying to use him.
    “Fight it!” I said, grabbing his upper arms. “Trent, you can say no!”
    “No, he can’t,” Ku’Sox mocked, flinging his coat out of his way as he stalked closer, breathing on our bubble to make the black run to him. “ Dolore adficere . . . Do it, slave!”
    Trent shuddered under my grip. The music in his mind faltered, the rushing sound of the line in mine grew loud as Bis’s tail tightened. “I am yours,” Trent gasped