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“Keep him distracted,” Jace whispers.
“Did you have dealings with the demon prince?” I ask Truman.
“Not Theodopolis,” he says.
How many demon princes can there be?
When Truman turns his gaze from me to Rosemarie, I fire another question—anything to keep his attention on me and off of her. “Did you have a hand in the wyvern attack too?”
Truman pauses. “No, that was Theodopolis’s enemy. He wanted to test the Bridge while it was at its weakest. He has waited so long to see it fall.”
“As it should,” the blind queen says.
“But why?” an elder demands. “Why betray that which gave you life for a century?”
“Not the life I wanted,” she says.
Truman shakes his head. “If the demon manages to take out the Valley of the Gods tonight, the sleeping goddess will finally die. No more goddess, no more Bridge.”
“You dare utter such blasphemy?” an elder shouts.
Truman clamps his claw around Rosemarie’s upper arm, and she hisses, but she says, “I won’t let you in my head.” Her voice sounds stronger now.
“How are you shielding?” he demands. “You’re no ordinary human if you can ward off magic.”
“I have extraordinary mates,” she says. A brilliant shine goes up from her spine. The runes.
He twists the knife, and drops of blood trail along the blade.
Shadows suddenly swirl around the Bridge.
“You doing that?” Jace asks.
Before I can answer, a screech rips through the night, and Hudyakis drops from the sky. He sinks his claws into the jagged stumps of Truman’s wings and yanks him away from Rosemarie.
The dagger clatters to the stones, and our mate drops to her hands and knees, her hair falling over her face.
She’s safe.
A fireball launches across the Bridge, striking Mildrake’s tower. Flames shoot skyward, and heat sizzles over my skin. The crowd scatters, launching into the air in deafening flaps and flutters.
“Rosemarie!” Jace’s yell tears at my heart. My stuttering heart.
Because behind our mate, behind Hudyakis, on the other side of the Bridge looms an enormous dragon escaped from one of the vilest pits of the hell dimensions at the center of the After Worlds.
37
ROSEMARIE
WHEEL OF FORTUNE: TAKE A SPIN ON THE WHEEL OF DESTINY
The rough stones of the Bridge cut into my palms and dig into my knees, but those aches can’t compare with the agonizing pain that tore through my head while Truman held me hostage. He poured dark magic into me, and only the mating magic kept me sane. I’d thought the magical level up of the mating bond had stopped at the guys not turning to stone during the day because hello—miracle. Apparently I’d gotten a gift as well.
My gut clenches, and I heave, my body trying to shove out the rest of the dark magic as if I’d physically swallowed it. The pounding in my ears brought on by the power overload makes every sound seem muffled and far away.
A shockingly scorching wind blows over my skin like a volcano exhaling, and I hunch into a tighter ball. Debris falls around me, making me flinch and cover.
“Rosemarie!” Jace’s yell has me jerking my attention to him. “This way.” Except his stare fixes on something behind me—gazing up and up as though whatever he’s watching flies higher than he does.
