The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5) by Jovee Winters

just any killing curse on her, but “the” killing curse. The sphere of ebony power gathered and grew, and there was only one shot of making it out of here alive.
    She had to be the one to throw it first.
    There was no time to form it into a tight sphere, no time to make sure that she harmed none but her intended, Fable opened her mouth and said the words she could never take back.
    “ Occidiere maledictio .”
    The ground shook, the wind shrieked, and the bolt of raw, primal magick blasted straight toward them.
    No sooner had Fable released it, she wailed, desperate to take it back. She was no killer, not even to a wicked witch such as Brunhilda.
    “No!” she cried, but it was too late. It was far too late.
    Once released, the curse had to strike. And it did but in the worst possible way.
    The doors were suddenly rammed open, giant splinters of wood erupted all around like tiny wooden projectiles, one of them catching Fable in the cheek and tearing her open.
    George, who’d been somewhat hidden behind Brunhilda, was tripped by the blast, knocking him forward, directly into the path of the ebony bolt.
    The magick took his head clean off, dropping him like a sack of stone to the ground. Instantly dead.
    And Brunhilda, she wasn’t safe from the blast’s path either, she’d not gotten a direct blow, but the javelin of darkness pierced clean through the left side of her chest, opening a giant, gaping sucking wound.
    She too dropped, eyes wide and staring at Fable with an incredulous shock. “What?” Was all she managed to whimper.
    With a cry of alarm as the truth of what she’d finally done had dawned on her, Fable ran to them, dropping to her knees. There was nothing she could do for George, but maybe she could still spare the witch.
    She grabbed Brunhilda’s ice-cold hand and shook her head. “I didn’t mean this. I didn’t.”
    There was no love lost for the witch, but Fable was not a killer. A monster. An evil queen.
    She wasn’t.
    She wasn’t a villain.
    Her soul trembled as the smells, and scents of blood and charred flesh filled her nostrils. The horrors of what she’d done were now crashing down on her.
    “No. No. No,” she whispered, shoving her hands against Brunhilda’s chest to try and stem the bleeding, but it was no use.
    With each pump of her heart, the witch bled out bucketfuls.
    Brunhilda’s face was an ashen, colorless white when her eyes finally opened. Her gaze was cloudy and drugged looking, and using the last bit of her strength she panted out three words that Fable knew would haunt her all the rest of her days.
    “You. Did. This.”
    Gasping, she dropped the witch’s hand as though burned, bringing her hands to her mouth she covered it as a strange, wild sound climbed out of her throat.
    “Leave her.”
    The overly cheerful and exuberant voice of Galeta the Blue suddenly echoed like sunshine in the room. The happy, sunshiny tone was so wrong that it finally pierced the veil of Fable’s shock.
    Gasping, and shaking with tears and pain, Fable couldn’t gather her words or thoughts into any sort of coherence. The only thing she could whisper was, “Why, Galeta? Why? Why did you betray me?”
    She was so cold. All over. And rather sensed she was deep in shock, and that when it finally wore off all she’d be capable of feeling was fury and hate for what The Blue had done.
    A few more days and she’d have been free of this torment. Only a few more days.
    “Why?” Her voice shook, and her body trembled.
    Galeta patted her head with her tiny hand, her sharp, fang-like teeth poking out menacingly from her curved lips. “Because we had a deal, Darkness. Did you think I’d forgotten?”
    The patronizing manner with which she treated, Fable, caused her to grit her teeth and jump to her feet. Wiping her stinging eyes with her forearms, she shook her head.
    “You said my blood. You’d take my blood. This was not our deal.”
    “I said, no such thing,” Galeta chuckled the words,