Except Malachi isn’t putting up a fight at all. He’s a puppet master, throwing his guard at us and watching us buckle.
“No!” Elorie screams, and it steals my attention.
I turn to her but hit a wall.
No—not a wall.
The Well.
Malachi has split a river down the middle of the court, and what runs within it is as dark as the shadows in the forest back home. Just as deadly.
Atlas throws an arm across my chest, stopping me. “You can’t cross it.”
He’s right, I’ll have to find a way around. I look up and see Callum has Hazel by the throat. To touch her is to accept the kiss of death, and yet, it does nothing to him. It shouldn’t be possible.
I don’t have time to think about it. His action saved Elorie. She’s okay.
Rior glares at me, probably annoyed I’m distracted. A centuryhasn’t made him any less pragmatic. At least it helps us win our battles.
I’ll get around the split to the Well later. Right now, I need to get Selia through the Arch. She can fight me. Hate me. So long as I pull her out of the influence of Malachi, she can battle me all she wants.
The river of the Well slices the courtyard in half, cutting off most of the Guard. I send a final glance to Callum, not sure if he’ll let me in, but sending a message to protect Elorie with all he has when I can’t. He nods once through the haze of burning magic, and I turn to my sister.
Storms dance in her eyes. Crackles of gold web like small venomous lightning bolts, eating up the darkness. Her fingers weave through it as rain falls overhead. She’s burrowing into her magic, reaching for enough to kill us all.
Or, at least, most of us. Her magic can’t turn me to ash, but it can drown and electrocute most of the weaker Fae in the courtyard.
“She got stronger.” Perame pauses at my side, twisting her daggers in her hands. “I heard?—”
“Now isn’t the time for rumors. We’re getting her back.”
I already know what they heard—we all did. Even the guards in the prison whispered about her rain of lightning. The storm that decimated an entire army from Vaelier and turned them to ash.
She’s hated back home for what she’s done, but she’s my blood. I owe this to her.
“Finally, just the two of us.” Malachi grins from beside her.
“Having trouble counting?” Atlas smirks, and Malachi’s gaze snaps to him.
A thin yellow light streams through the space, weaving in and out of the chaos and latching around Atlas’s throat.
He grabs it, while Perame attempts to slice it with a dagger as Atlas chokes. Finally, his fingers manage to sear it through.
Atlas throws out a shockwave of flames that stops right at Malachi’s feet, and he laughs. The orb around his neck glows as Atlas’s magic drifts upward. It’s like the orb is drinking it down.
“You can’t touch me.” Malachi’s head tilts.
I spin my sword around in my hand. “Maybe not with magic. But you can’t outrun the point of the blade.”
“You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?” Malachi’s blue eyes have turned the color of a brewing ocean. “It’s disappointing, really. The great King Riven having a weakness when we used to be so evenly matched.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. We were never evenly matched. I seem to remember an entire army having to take me down.”
“How does it feel knowing your mother was the one who led you into that trap?” He’s baiting me.
My fists clench around my sword, and I swallow my anger. “My queen did what was necessary to ensure the survival of our kingdom.”
And she led me to Elorie. Whether I agree with my mother’s decisions or not, there is no lifetime—no matter how long—where I’d want to go back to a time before I met her.
