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The command is followed effortlessly by the whistle of arrows soaring through the air in our direction, a few grunts of pain echo around us as some hit their target, and I stumble to the side to avoid one aimed our way.
In doing so, I fall from Zane’s grasp, and a moment later, I find eyes settled on mine. Death thunders in his vision as he loses the fur cloak and aims his finger in my direction.
“You.”
THIRTY-SIX
RAVEN
Calculating eyes and measured steps approach me as the rest of the world seems to drift away. The disbelief is evident. I shouldn’t be alive. He didn’t want me here, which is likely because I’m of no use to him now. I can’t bring people back from the dead, but screw him for underestimating me once again. Or, more specifically, underestimating the love people have for me, which is matched only by my love for them.
When people like you and care for you, they actually want to be around you, a concept I’m quite sure he’s unfamiliar with. My mind immediately goes to my men, who I know are around me somewhere, I just don’t know where, exactly.
Burton, however, feeds on fear and power. A constant, eternal need for power. Even when he was just Burton and not the mirage of Erikel, he was always using power and talking down to everyone with a special level of finesse that only he could achieve.
I know there are people moving around us, but I can’t take my eyes off him. As he continues to inch closer, I reach for my sword, tingling with the preemptive expectation of slicing this fucker open.
The vision becomes more vivid as he nears, and the taste of it on my tongue becomes more desirable until he’s barreling toward the floor, tumbling to my right, and the sound of a riot bursts around me.
I don’t see who does it because I’m too swept up in the battle cries that reverberate around us. A glint of gold shimmers as it flies toward my head, and I kick into action just before it can connect with its intended target: my throat.
The clang of metal on metal vibrates through me as I look up at a woman I don’t know. That doesn’t stop her from glaring at me, evil intent in her eyes as she tries to push her weight down on me.
I falter an inch, the blades coming closer to my face, and her sneer spreads into a triumphant grin. It lasts all of two seconds before I grunt, thrusting up and knocking her away. She stumbles over her own feet, clattering to the ground with a shriek.
Her eyes turn to pits of death as she looks back at me, and fire appears in the palm of her hand. I know exactly where she’s going with that heat, and I don’t fucking want it. Before she can singe a single hair on my head, I wield my sword and slam it in her direction.
Blood pools at my feet, seeping around her as her eyelids pause at half-mast and her body goes limp. My pulse thunders in my ears, confirming exactly what I just did, but I brush it off and take a deep breath.
Right now, it’s either kill or be killed, and I’m not down for the latter. I can figure out how to compartmentalize all of that until there’s a moment to consider it, and even then, I may lock the door shut and keep it that way forever.
“Raven, you good?” I whirl around at the sound of Eldon’s voice and smile when my eyes lock with his.
“Yeah,” I breathe, earning a nod from him before he charges off to the left, battling with a student from Shadowgrim.
Fuck. I better do the same.
There’s going to be a lot of blood on my hands by the time we’re done here, and there isn’t a spare moment for me to relax between engagements.
Inhaling, I search around me, watching as magic is thrown around and weapons launch through the air. I get the briefest fangirl moment, watching as Sammi slices someone’s head off with ease, but a flicker of movement behind her has me pausing.
Wild blond hair drifts around in the air as a girl storms with purpose across the field. I try to look ahead to see where she’s fixated, and it’s not a surprise to see the same motherfucker I want dead caught in her line of sight.
Shoving through the crowd, my sword dragging through the dirt as I go, I startle when she raises her hands above her head. A scream pierces the air as she thrusts them down, and ice darts toward her target.
“Leila!” I holler, just as a sword is swung through the air, and I duck down, rolling through the dirt to avoid the blade before continuing toward her. “Leila,” I repeat, not wanting to distract her, but the look on her target’s face tells me he’s completely unfazed by her attempt to hurt him.
Grave.
His lip is curled with a smirk as he watches her, effortlessly brushing off the ice that managed to touch him, but the second he sees me over her shoulder, the look drops from his face.
That’s right, motherfucker, you didn’t kill me like you thought.
I hope I’m a living nightmare as I make my way toward him with blood splattered up my dark clothes and across my face. I hope I’m what haunts him in Hell, where he’ll never rest.
Leila follows his line of sight, catching a glimpse of me, and it gives him the split second he needs to get the upper hand. His arms go around her neck as he hauls her back against him. She kicks and swings her arms around, but he doesn’t falter.
I approach him, sauntering through the crowd with my predatory stare locked on my prey.
