Page 120 of Magic Claimed

He caught me no more than twenty feet above the concrete surface of the parking lot. Scooped me out of the air and held me against his scaled chest as he tucked his wings and tumbled across the ground. I felt a jolt, heard the screech of metal and the crunch of glass as he collided with cars and then finally slid to a stop.

And didn’t move.

“Callum!”

I struggled against his hold, and began to breathe again only when he lowered me to the ground, released me, and raised his head.

Relief, heady as fae liquor, thrummed through my limbs and echoed through our bond as we stared at each other. Elated and uncertain.

Was this for real?

Then those fiery amber eyes closed, the scaled head bent, and I leaned forward to rest my forehead against his.

The moment I touched those warm scales and felt his heart beating beneath my hands, I knew everything was going to be all right.

“I love you,” I breathed. “So much. But Blake…”

I know.

“He’s so much bigger. And the poison! What if he…”

Callum rose to his feet, regarded me fiercely, and bared those glittering teeth in a vicious smile.

He might be physically stronger, but he knows nothing about this magic he’s stolen.

He was right. And in that moment, I knew that nothing could come between my beautiful black dragon and the people he’d sworn to protect.

“Then go get him. But be careful, you hear me?”

He bumped me with his nose, and then, with powerful wingbeats that nearly knocked me over, he rose slowly into the air.

Headed back into battle.

Which was also where I needed to be.

I’d fallenon the wrong side of the park, so it was on trembling legs that I began wobbling my way down the alley to the north of the stadium.

But I was only halfway there when I was met by the sound of running feet, and familiar faces emerged from the smoke—Shane, his daggers bare and bloody, the shaggy wolf form of Seamus, and a winged newcomer I belatedly recognized as Draven.

“We need to get inside,” Shane warned me. “Blake is going to burn whatever he can.”

“Faris…”

“Inside. He’s alive.” Draven’s voice was harsh and strange in this form, but I could hear his relief even through the unfamiliar tones.

We ran together, Seamus under my hand to steady me when my knees threatened to collapse. And to my immense relief, the battle for the gates appeared to be over. A few bodies lay on the ground, but a majority of Blake’s people seemed to have recognized the imminence of their defeat and disappeared.

The defenders, however, were taking no chances, and shut the gates behind us with a clang the moment we staggered inside.

But the scene within those gates was no less staggering.

The injured were everywhere—human and Idrian alike. Burns, bleeding wounds, broken bones… And yet, I saw no segregation among the wounded or those tending them. The protesters’ signs lay tossed aside as the survivors huddled together, passing around first aid kits and fashioning makeshift splints.

Our city had endured so much pain in order to bring about healing, and I wanted to scream and cry as I begged for someone to tell me whether it had been worth it. Whether there was no balm for hatred except bloodshed. No wisdom to be found outside of bitter experience.

I weaved through the masses of people, looking for my friends, and spotted them one by one. Marilee and Oliver, leaning on one another to walk. Niko, Isaac, and Emberly, handing out armloads of bottled water. Talia and the other delegates, speaking quietly among themselves. And even Kevin, hisface and mustache covered in blood, but still standing guard at the gate.

All battered and bruised, but alive.