So I let the iciness flow through my palms. I drew to my full height as I stalked closer to Darya. “You will not harm another person in this territory while I draw breath.”
Darya whirled toward me. “Then I’ll just kill you.”
“But you can’t,” I lied, coming closer, still. If she swung that sword at me, it might kill me before I could get any nearer. “You couldn’t kill me with dragon’s blood because I’m blood bound to the King of Lirien. And the gods have favored him. It’s his power that I wield. And his sword answers to him and him alone.”
Fear sparked in her eyes.
I extended my palms and let the full force of the icy power flow through my hands, like a conduit from my mind to my fingertips.
A blast of blue spiraled forward, cascading over Darya.
My power flowed through me—not just my fingertips, but my arms, my torso, spiraling, searing, cutting like a knife at the very fabric of my soul. A flood of images tore across my mind … of Esme, curled against me as a toddler, Ciaran, splashing in a brook with me, Amahle, laughing.
I saw Tara teaching me to throw a dagger, over and over, patience in her brow. Madoc, hoisting me onto his shoulders when I was a girl and carrying me across a wobbly tree branch, while my mother waved below us. My father, his kind, patient smile, as he taught me to hunt.
And Rykr. My love. Holding me in his arms. Kissing me.
Loving me for who I am.
The world around me blurred, the moment holding as I saw frost creeping into Darya’s cheeks, spreading with a crackle into the whites of her eyes, turning her dark irises blue.
Darya gasped, her lips trembling, the ice creeping up her throat. She raised a shaking hand, fingers sparking with golden magic. “No,” she rasped. “No, I?—”
But the words never finished. Her magic fizzled out, and the ice swallowed her whole, a scream freezing in her throat, a wisp of cold mist hanging from her lips.
The power that flowed through me was relentless, unstoppable, out of my control.
When it ended, Darya stood frozen solid, like ice, the sword still firmly in her hand.
I took a step to wrest the sword away, but a sharp sting filled my mind, splitting through my ears. I’ve spent too much of my power. Used the last of my reserve.
Dizziness overtook me, and I collapsed, my face smacking against the ground.
A gentle set of hands tugged at my shoulders. Seth turned me onto my back, and I blinked into his face, riddled with grief. “Seren! Oh gods, Seren!”
In the background, distant now, I heard the clang of a sword. Thorne continued fighting toward us.
“Help my sisters and tell the Vangar to stand down. Please,” I rasped.
“Rykr,” I called out again in my mind. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and slipped down my cheek. “Rykr, I love you.”
Then the world slowly slipped into a deep shadow.
Chapter 45
Rykr
As I extinguished the fire in the Havamal, walking between plumes of billowing smoke, Thorne emerged from a tunnel.
Tara and Amahle were behind him … followed by Seth and a group of Vangar.
“Thorne?”
Seren was in Thorne’s arms. Limp.
I raced toward him. The vuk who had followed me down from the mountain quickly caught up, running at my side, like a hound.
Thorne saw me and knelt, then held her out toward me. Tears flowed freely from Tara’s and Amahle’s faces … and Esme’s. I didn’t have to ask to know who she was. She looked like Seren.
