The first Council witch crossed the broken threshold with the smug, clipped authority of someone who had never been denied a single thing in her life — until tonight. Her boots cracked over the salt like it was nothing more than spilled flour. She stepped over the splintered door as if the Hollow Court’s creatures hadn’t just bled shadows into the floorboards minutes before.
Rowan felt Maisie’s heartbeat pressed to her mother’s shoulder. A drum in the dark. A promise that every bone in her body answered like iron singing in a forge.
The Council witch — her name was Agatha something, Rowan remembered now — lifted her hand, two fingers flicking forward, the binding spell glowing sickly green between them.
“Rowan Thorne,” Agatha said, her voice echoing like a false prayer, “by decree of th
