Arch Deacons.
Shyla envisioned half a dozen well-armed Arch Deacons approaching the guards from both sides.
Arch Deacons.
Shouts pierced the tense silence. Then a rustling and the unmistakable ring of swords being drawn. The prince and Yates exchanged a concerned glance before the huge man strode to the door and slid it open with more force than needed. A crack zigzagged along the colored glass.
The guards had split into two groups of four. They stood back to back, facing the Arch Deacons.
“What’s going on?” Yates demanded.
Arch Deacons.
Shyla pictured them advancing on the guards.
“Arch Deacons are attacking, sir!” one man said as he blocked an invisible weapon.
Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Shyla used thenot herecommand and took off down the tunnel. Only Yates spotted her. The captain cursed and the sound of his boots pounded after her. Once she was out of sight of the guards, she dropped her mental suggestions, then poured all her energy into staying ahead of Yates.
From the brief glances over her shoulder, Yates wasn’t far behind. In fact, for a man his size, he was rather quick. There was nothing worse than being chased through an underground city. Eventually, they’d run into more guards or a group of deacons or a dead end, which was very likely as she wasn’t familiar with this particular level.
The few people she passed just pressed against the walls, giving Yates room. They wouldn’t dare try to stop him, but they wouldn’t interfere with her either. Unless they decided helping the Water Prince’s captain would benefit them. All she needed was a fraction of an angle to disappear from his sight so she could lose him before that happened.
Shyla aimed her magic back at Yates.
Gone.
Nothing. Not even a hitch in his stride. She added more force.
Gone.
And a bit more power.
Gone.
Her commands just bounced off his broad chest. Or so it seemed. And to add to the fun, another set of boots sounded behind Yates—probably the fastest of the guards rushing to catch up. She ceased her efforts to use her magic and concentrated on her direction. Aiming away from the populated areas, Shyla turned to dart down what she hoped—
Pain exploded in the back of her right thigh. She sprawled forward, skidding over the stone floor, scraping her palms and forearms raw. But that was minor compared to the agony that gripped her leg muscles. She looked back and wasn’t sure what was scarier. The knife sticking out of her leg or Captain Yates standing next to her with the tip of his sword descending slowly toward her. Desperate, she sent all her magic at him.
Stop!
Nothing. She tried to scramble away from the weapon, but the fire in her leg prevented her. The sharp point of the sword touched her back. She froze—all pain forgotten as it pierced her tunic and skin.
“The prince doesn’t care if you die,” Yates said. “As long as I don’t damage your eyeballs.” He twisted the sword, creating a bigger gash.
Shyla bit down on a cry.
“Go ahead, Sun-Kissed. Stop me from killing you with your magic.”
She’d like nothing better. But the beast seemed immune.
He knelt next to her and tugged down the collar of his uniform, exposing a platinum torque. “Took this from an Arch Deacon.” He grinned.
Terror seized her lungs, forcing all the air from them. And while she couldn’t read his soul, there was no doubt that he not only planned to kill her but would enjoy it.
“This is going to be our little secret, something you can share with the Sun Goddess when you see her. Because you can’t stop me.”
“But I can,” Rendor said.
