It’s a measure of how far gone we were that neither moving magic ink nor the dead queen of the undead elicited even a squeak from Nate. In the back of my head, that worried me. In the front, I was frantically trying to disengage before my wards returned to their maker.
Fate, a capricious bitch in the best of times, was having none of that.
surged through me, words from my mother’s book coming fast from my
tongue. I had always been her instrument. Fire rose around the tainted
priest. He laughed, moved forward, and was held fast, burning.