Chapter Twelve

"Zak is her mate, he can stand with her."

"I disagree," the High Witch snaps at Evander's mother — her own granddaughter — as members of the werewolf coven pour bags of salt out onto the grass in a detailed circular pattern, interspersed with lit candles, surrounding Rose and I.

"With all due respect, you have not dealt with fae spells like this before. I have. I've felt it. The power of bonded mates —"

"He is an orc! There is no bond! Foolish girl. You don't know what you're talking about. But of course, you would put too much value in mates. That doesn't surprise me at all."

A warning growl rips through the air, Evander's father looking murderous as he steps closer to his wife, and suddenly everyone is growling and snarling, the whole backyard filled with the sound, like a pack of menacing dogs. Rose whimpers and hugs me tighter around the waist, and I can feel her shaking.

"Hey!" I yell. I'm normally a pretty chilled out guy, but not when they're upsetting Rose. "HEY!"

The growling stops as my booming voice echoes off the house. Sometimes I forget that I am a head taller than these wolves. I don't have time for their bullshit right now. "Stop upsetting her!" I turn to the High Witch. "And I'm staying right here. I'm not letting her go."

The old witch snorts. "Well at least someone has a backbone," she mutters. "Fine. Stay in the circle, but don't say I didn't warn you."

In the end it's not the High Witch that leads the magic, but the half-fae woman. Her name is Lylia, she's over three hundred years old, and the most powerful one of us all , according to Evander's mum.

Her antlers look just like the ones I saw on Rose and Ellie's heads. It's pitch black now, clouds covering the moon and stars, and if it weren't for Rose's glow and the candles, I wouldn't be able to see a damn thing. Lylia's pupils shine in the faint light, round and reflective like a cat's as she speaks to Rose and I softly.

"You are the first person to have ever made it back to this realm from the land of the fae. That alone is amazing."

"But I'm not back, I'm not really here, am I? And I have no memories…"

"Fae magic and trickery is very powerful. I would know. We're going to open the door between the world here and the world you are in, and pull you out. It's not without risks, and there are a lot of unknowns, but I have long had a theory that they are keeping changelings like you and I in some form of stasis on their side. They have some way of manipulating ageing and lifespans. I know that was a concern to you, that you might come through and immediately be a hundred years older and pass away, but I want to reassure you I don't think that will happen. I think you appear here in this form because that is your form on that side. Now, is there anything you can tell us about any of this? Even the smallest details may be of use to us here."

"Last week she said it was under, " I say as Rose shakes her head. "Like an underworld, I guess."

Lylia nods, waiting. When we say nothing else, she gives Rose a small smile. "Well, let's bring you back up to the surface. It's time to set you free."

The werewolf coven is already standing in place around the salt circle. Lylia steps back, taking her place between the High Witch and Evander's mother. The gathered members all link hands, a low humming chant starting in a language I don't recognise. The salt at our feet glows gold, the pattern lit up to reveal a shining moon and stars. I catch Evander's eye from outside the circle and he gives me a reassuring nod. He's half-werewolf, but it's clear from this that he's very much a shifter in the eyes of this coven, and like his father and brother, he's been quietly observing the werewolves this evening.

Even knowing that Rose is probably her sister, Ellie chose to stay back on Motuwai Island under the protection of Evander's sister and the rest of his pack, and I can't blame her for that decision.

"Hey," I say quietly to Rose, tilting her chin up with my hand. The magic enveloping us feels like static crawling over my skin, but I ignore it. "I love you, and I'm so proud of you. I can't wait for our future together."

Her eyes are filled with tears. "A life with you is all I want."

There's an awful ripping sound, and Lylia screams. The world around us seems to fall away, or open up. I can't explain it, but I grip onto Rose tightly, seeing my panic reflected in her eyes. All at once I can see too many things; Rose is here but she's also there , under as she said, lying on the ground, her blonde hair spread around her and sightless blue eyes that stare up into nothing, her body surrounded by mushrooms and their glowing tendrils that seem to be feeding from her very flesh.

The magic is no longer an uncomfortable static but an all-consuming roar, burning my skin, filling my head, disorientating and ominous, and it tastes like death. Rose is slipping out of my grasp, falling through the open hole in the air as the werewolves around us chant and scream and the air is filled with a haze of green and gold.

I cling on to her wrists and she howls in terror as dark blue claws reach through the hole and snatch at her ankles.

We're going to tear her apart.

"No!"

Hands that glow gold join mine, gripping her arms. I'm flanked on either side by Evander and Seth, their growls in my ears as together we pull . I've never been so desperate in my life, so panicked, my muscles aching with the strain. Rose's cries tear at my heart, but then something changes in her. Her eyes flash gold, then green, her antlers grow, her body losing the glow, the translucence, the ghostliness. She is flesh and blood, pale skin and blonde hair, her pulse racing beneath my fingers.

She's alive .

I'm lying on my back in the grass, and for a moment everything is so quiet, so still; a chilling calm after a huge storm. I know that in the days that follow I'll be able to process this better. The way Rose tore free from that realm with a final triumphant cry, falling atop me as the hole in the fabric of space and time closed behind her, shutting out that world of death.

I'll be able to think about the way Evander stood, staring at his hands as if they weren't his own, as if he didn't understand what he'd just done.

I'll be able to think about the haunted look on Seth's face, as if he'd seen a ghost.

I might even be able to remember the hushed words spoken by the werewolves — the witches who talked about how this changes everything .

But for now all I can do is hold my Rose tight in my arms, her face pressed to my neck and my nose buried in her hair. She smells like a summer's day, sweet and floral and perfect, and her breath is hot against my skin.

When she lifts her tear-stained face, smiling weakly, her lips and cheeks blotched red from crying, I kiss her slowly, reverently, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness of her mouth and tongue. She's here , with me, and I'm never letting her go.