Page 17

Oronrel

“Shit!” I yell.

An explosion sends us careening into a large wall. My back hits the stone with such force, my teeth rattle. Debris rains down on us as Pyre shields Noni and Flumph with his body and then forces them through a pocket portal to get them out of Oronrel safely. I climb to my feet only to get kicked back down by a hulking Unseelie soldier.

“We’re really going to owe the Mages Guild after this. My body is almost completely wrecked,” I say.

Dragan mumbles something similar and hits the large man from behind. I duck to avoid getting completely demolished by a group of soldiers running right for me. Pyre is pissed and heading toward the shield dome the Unseelie trapped Theren behind.

And speaking of Theren… I never thought I’d pity the bastard, but seeing what his own people did to him makes my stomach turn. No one deserves that.

A spell knocks me back as I attempt to cover Pyre, and he casts a barrier over himself to block any harmful magic the Court tries to use against him. I reach for my daggers, but they fail to penetrate the armor.

“Fuck! What did Morrigan do to these guys?!” Dragan shouts over the roar of soldiers flooding the small room. “They weren’t like this in the Veil.”

“This isn’t Morrigan’s doing. She doesn’t have the power to pull off something like this.” I flip and summon the shadows, and they give me a burst of speed. Dragan hacks away at the Unseelie soldiers who try to fight their way toward Pyre to keep him from releasing Theren. Pyre pushes his hands against the shield blocking our former sworn enemy. Pyre’s power begins to crack the forcefield. The sound is deafening, but I continue to fight with everything I have.

As the magic weakens, Theren snaps out of his stupor. He sees Pyre working to free him and bites into his hand as if he weren’t bleeding enough already. The blood pools on the floor and Theren begins to chant. I watch with sick fascination as he reaches inside the rippling crimson puddle, which is now somehow up to his elbows, and pulls something out. It looks like a spear. Blood magic is almost as rare and forbidden as necromancy and catoptromancy. Maybe the others were right—maybe Theren is more powerful than anyone knew. If such is the case, his magic will come in handy. Unless he fucking well turns on us.

Pyre finally breaks open the shield, but an alarm blares through the palace. “We must move quickly! Reinforcements are headed our way. I sense at least one hundred soldiers.”

Theren stands, albeit unsteadily, and pushes to the front of the fight. Half his left ear is missing, as if they clipped the elven point off to shame him. Words of slander have been carved into every inch of his torso in the Unseelie native tongue. Bruises and cuts litter his skin like freckles. And yet he battles against the soldiers without pause.

I move beside Theren and Dragan does the same. Pyre takes the rear and covers our retreat. We fight our way down the hallsslowly and with every shred of our remaining strength. Pyre is weaker after using his magic to free Theren, but he’s not in danger of needing to return to the Veil just yet. He won’t be able to cast portals, that much is certain.

“Theren, got any bright ideas on how to escape?” I ask. “I could really use a break right about now.”

Theren takes a sharp left. We follow. He leads us into the armory and slams the door. Pyre leans against the wall as Dragan uses his weight to keep the soldiers from busting in. We need a plan.

“What the hell do we do now?” Dragan asks.

“There are no more passages leading out of the palace they don’t know about,” Theren groans. “We have to fight our way out. There’s a door behind the throne that was installed in case of an assassination attempt. It’s probably our only chance.”

“Where does it lead?” Dragan asks.

“To a volcano in the mountains that hasn’t been active for many years.”

Pyre nods to confirm Theren’s claims. We grab more weapons and open the door. With a shockwave of Pyre’s magic, an opening allows us to dash down the corridor. Dragan and I flank Theren and we move as one to the throne room. But in the vast, open space, there are spellcasters.

Fuck.

“I go right, you go left,” I propose with a chuckle as I look at Dragan and he glares back at me. Clearly, there’s still bad blood between us. The fucking gargoyle can hold a grudge and then some. “First one to kill a spellcaster wins. No shadow magic aside from your sword, and I won’t feed to increase my strength. Deal?”

“Are you making this into a game?” Dragan kicks a soldier back and blocks another with his shadow blade.

I shrug indifferently and spin my dagger, waiting for the next attack. “Might as well. If I'm going to fight, I want to enjoy it.”

“Says the one who can’t die because he doesn’t have a soul!” Dragan says.

“What do you say? Yes or no?” I ask as I fight off yet another stream of soldiers.

“You’re on.”

Pyre shakes his head as Dragan and I launch ourselves into a mass of spellcasters. Flashes of colorful light fill the room as we dodge one spell after another with smiles on our faces.

CHAPTER SIX

EILISH