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She gazed back at him through the ash-tinted haze, and time seemed to pause. Killian didn’t know what to do, what to say. He had imagined this moment, coming face to face with Elyse, every night for the past two months. He’d recited countless speeches on morality, on betrayal and justice, but they all escaped him as he stared into her obsidian eyes.
Elyse opened her mouth slowly, as if she, too, was contemplating what to say, but Killian snapped at her.
“Don’t.”
Hurt twisted her features. Killian didn’t care.
“There is nothing—nothing—you can say to make me forgive you, to make me understand.” He shook his head but kept his eyes narrowed on her, and took a step forward. “Killing King Cyril was bad enough, but now I find you here? What did you do?” His voice was merciless, his anger overtaking him like an infection.
Elyse’s brows furrowed, her voice straining. “I didn’t do anything,” she stressed, taking a step toward him. “Killian, this is bigger than me—bigger than us.”
Killian barely heard her. She had shifted slightly, allowing him to see past her, over her shoulder. A figure lay among the rubble—a lifeless figure. On instinct, he shoved past Elyse, who let him push her aside. In three strides, he stood over the body, taking in the man’s pale, bloodied form. The body lay in a supine position, its arms tucked against its sides, like it had been placed there deliberately. Like a sacrifice.
“Killian, we need to—”
Killian turned on Elyse, his sharp movement cutting her off abruptly. We? We? There was no “we.” She was wanted for the murder of his king. She had lied to him and deceived him. She had kissed him and made love to him, and now she had slaughtered an entire town with her witchcraft.
“You’re an abomination!” he screamed as he thrust his hands toward her, sending a stunning spell directly at her chest.
Eyes wide, Elyse barely managed to flick her hand and form a shield in time to block it. The white light dissipated against her shield, but Killian sent another, then another, pouring every bit of his power into each spell. His entire body shook with rage as he moved closer to her, sweat trickling down his temple.
Elyse kept her shield up but moved back several paces. “Killian, please!” she cried in between blasts, but her voice only fueled his hatred more.
It was clear the stunning spells weren’t going to cut it. Killian started throwing out any and every hex he knew. Blasts of fire, water, air, poison, magic arrows—but even as the memory of his last arrow piercing through her sent a jolt to his heart, nothing penetrated her shield. Everything either glanced off the iridescent wall of air or dissolved away on contact.
Elyse was hardly breaking a sweat. She seemed more frazzled than worn down as she kept shouting at him.
“Please!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Killian, please listen to me!”
But he couldn’t back down, not when she had taken so much from him.
No matter what he sent her way, Elyse only defended herself. She never retaliated. It only infuriated him more.
“Fight!” he bellowed. He’d backed her into a corner, where she stood, arms raised protectively, her expression imploring. He needed her to fight back. He needed her to show her true colors, once and for all.
“I won’t,” she answered, her voice drenched in resolve.
“Fight!” Killian growled louder, practically begging her as he sent a flaming spiral at her. It grazed the shield and hit the wall behind her, igniting the wood immediately. Elyse waved her hand and doused the fire, lowering her shield for only a fraction of a moment.
If that’s what it took, Killian would burn the whole fucking place down.
Again and again he projected fire at her, each flame catching on the wooden walls of the church. Again and again, Elyse lowered her shield just long enough to smother the flames—quicker than the blink of an eye.
It was reckless, and Killian knew it. Every time she looked at him, all he could see was the trust she’d destroyed. Every pleading look she sent him clawed at his heart, tore at his lungs. With a final bellow, he hurled his hands at her, flinging destruction her way.
The same smoky white light he’d used to blow open the doors now raced toward Elyse, but instead of dissolving into her shield, it bounced off of it, refracting upward in a blinding haze. The entire ceiling disappeared, obscured by the smoky light, but the sound of the roof exploding was deafening.
Then something—something enormous and black—appeared from the fog. One of the massive iron chandeliers was hurtling down from the obliterated ceiling, headed straight toward him.
“Killian!” Elyse’s scream was terror-filled, horrible and bloodcurdling. Before he could even move, she rammed her body into him, knocking him to the stone floor. His breath escaped him. Elyse’s body covered his as he closed his eyes and prayed for a swift death.
At the last moment, Elyse projected a shield around them. The chandelier crashed into it with a thunderous clang. The iron monstrosity ricocheted off the shield, rolled a few yards, then settled onto the floor with another loud boom—though Killian could hardly hear it over the pounding of his own heart.
He stared up at the mist, which crept toward the sky through the giant hole in the roof. He tried to steady his breathing but choked against the ash floating through the air. He had lost control completely, and it had almost cost him his life.
And Elyse—she had saved him.
Bile rose in his throat as he realized she still lay atop him, protecting his body with her own. She must have realized it too, because she quickly rolled away.
