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Saoirse’s knees slammed into the floor. Her hands shook as she reached forward then recoiled, wanting to touch Màili’s head yet not daring.

A look of pure terror marred the beautiful female’s face. Saoirse thought she might vomit right there.

She couldn’t form thought or words. Gone. She was just gone. No chance for explanations. No second chances. Nothing.

A green cloak slowly floated down to hide Màili’s face and Saoirse peered up to find Fin at her side with his head bowed.

“I do hope that’s enough to convince you. Now tell me where they’re going.”

Saoirse didn’t move. Her knees throbbed and her chest felt hollow as if someone had carved her heart right out of the cavity.

“Go to hell,” she seethed. Màili. Beautiful, brave Màili was no longer part of this world. She was gone. In a blink she was gone and there had been nothing Saoirse could do.

“Fine, if you need more motivation, so be it. I can keep this up all day.”

Niall snapped his fingers and a familiar voice filled the room.

Saoirse’s head snapped up to find Niall heading straight for Zylah, his bloody blade dragging across the floor in his wake. The sound echoed through Saoirse’s ears even as her blood pumped wildly, drowning out all reason.

A pair of guards was dragging Zylah and she kicked and screamed like a feral cat in their grip. None of the former slaves reached for her, despite the things Zylah had done to help them. Profound rage burned through Saoirse’s blood when one guard reached for a pair of shackles.

Zylah’s magic spun in a frenzied current, whipping her clothes with its force. She blasted her captors into the crowd, then pivoted toward the door.

Zylah. Niall would kill Zylah next or torture her until Saoirse yielded the information he desired.

He’d made a show of the council members and Màili to instill fear. He had been three steps ahead from the beginning.

Ice wrapped around Zylah’s wrists and color leached from the half-breed’s face. She yanked against her restraints, twisting her arms so far Saoirse was certain they’d rip from the sockets.

Zylah thrashed, but when she saw the iron shackles, something in the female broke. Her screams turned to hysteria and her anger to undiluted fear.

And that fear was Saoirse’s undoing.

No way. No way in hell was Niall laying a single finger on Zylah. She’d rip herself to shreds, fight until every last bone in her body broke before she let him hurt that female.

Greenery broke from the floor and shot across the hall so fast Niall didn’t notice until it grabbed his arms. The thorns pierced through his flesh and yanked the male to his knees.

Saoirse was already flying, moving faster than she’d ever moved in her life. Her instincts were shouting. Demanding. Protect, protect, protect.

Saoirse leapt past Niall and twisted to dodge the warriors closing in around their lord. She didn’t care about them or Niall, she just needed Zylah.

Saoirse’s magic was a symphony of greenery rising in her wake. It covered everyone and everything and pinned them all in place.

Many screamed while others summoned their own magic to fight. Flames rose behind Zylah and Saoirse slid across the ground, dragging her blade across two ankles before rising to her feet again. Her magic wrapped another three in a sharp embrace and squeezed until their faces contorted. She didn’t care if they lived or died.

A blast of air hit Saoirse from behind and she turned just in time to see Niall rising to his feet.

Saoirse didn’t think, didn’t fear, didn’t feel, just as she’d always been taught. She only moved. Saoirse pulled her magic forth again, a rising wave of vines and branches that interlocked, then grabbed Zylah’s wrist and fled.

Zylah didn’t protest. Saoirse wasn’t certain if the female was in shock or thankful.

The halls were empty and Zylah kept pace as they sprinted with Saoirse’s magic doing everything it could to slow Niall and his warriors.

They exited the manor and Saoirse steered them toward the back, where they blasted their way through the garden. Zylah still didn’t speak, didn’t question as they continued, running, running, running until Saoirse could see the edge of the city.

It was only then that Zylah tried to slow, but Saoirse tightened the hold she had on the female’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” Zylah yelled, her spike of fear almost palpable.