Ursula bolted left, boots skidding hard enough to leave streaks across the floor as the first bolt tore past her shoulder, close enough to singe the edge of her sleeve. Catching her dead center, the second bolt slammed into her chest, sending her smashing into the side of the table before she crumpled to her knees.
Emmaline clamped her hand over her mouth, biting down hard enough to taste copper, anything to keep from screaming her friend’s name and giving herself away.
Caelith’s hands were already rising again, power snapping and sparking between them, the next bolt already forming. Before he could let it loose, though, a strand of pure white flame whipped across the room, searing into his face with a crackling hiss.
The blast snapped Caelith’s head sideways, sending him tripping back until his heel caught on an overturned dining chair. He dropped hard to one knee, catching himself against the far end of the table. Smoke rose in greasy ribbons from the wound carved down his cheek,the flesh split wide to the white of bone beneath. Where the eye used to be, there was nothing left but a bubbling pit of seared meat, the edges blackened and curling like burnt parchment.
“You’re dead! You’re all dead!” Caelith’s scream tore through the air. Any semblance of the civilized mask he usually wore was gone. Clawing at the wound with one hand, the other clenched into a fist, power already flickering back to life in his palm.
“Don’t just lie there, imp.” Aeren snarled in his direction, shoulders squared, eyes still glowing with pulsing heat. “This isn’t over.”
Just inside the door, off to the left, Margo lay crumpled on the floor, one arm stretched out, fingers twitching faintly against the cold stone.
Emmaline’s pulse slammed hard enough to leave her dizzy, but there wasn’t time to process. Aeren was already at Ursula’s side, grabbing her wrist and hauling her up from the broken wreckage of the table, a jagged crack spiderwebbing out from where her body had hit.
“Come on, Shadow Queen.” Her voice was low. “Show me what you can do.”
“Gladly.” Ursula bared her teeth, a growl vibrating deep in her chest.
Then, the scent of ozone flooded the air, buzzing like the moment before thunder breaks. Light flared, harsh and unsteady, throwing Caelith’s ruined face into stark relief.
“I’m going to kill you all.” He staggered to his feet next, blood smearing his neck, and liftedboth hands.
His grin pulled too wide, splitting the scorched skin at the corner of his mouth, fresh blood welling up and tracing a slow path down his chin.
“You’re all going to burn.” His gaze flicked to Margo’s prone form. “Starting with that uppity bitch. What’s one more dead noble lady?”
Emmaline’s breath locked in her throat as the first bolt sparked to life—thin at first, then swelling into a jagged spear of blinding silver-blue. The air rippled outward from his hands, rattling the nearest glasses on the still-intact sideboard and sending loose strands of Emmaline’s hair lifting skyward.
“No!” Ursula’s voice ripped through the air as shadows poured from her chest, thick and fast, writhing like living chains as they shot toward Caelith.
Aeren was already moving, sprinting for Margo, her fingers clawing at the air like she could pull the noblewoman to safety through sheer will.
Not fast enough. Emmaline could see it. The lightning would hit before either of them got there. Margo had no inherent magic shielding her, no wards, nothing but thin silk between her heart and the killing strike.
She’s dead. The thought hit as Emmaline moved, instinct driving her faster than fear. She launched herself through the doorway, skidding across the polished marble, arms outstretched as she threw herself over Margo’s body.
The bolt hit, and every nerve fired at once—blinding, blistering, too much to hold inside her skin. Her jaw slammed shut, teeth shattering under the pressure, shards stabbing her tongue, the taste of blood flooding thick and metallic down her throat. Her spine bowed,heels scraping uselessly against the floor, limbs yanked in all directions by invisible strings she couldn’t cut. The world went white, then black, as she slumped next to Margo, unable to move. Unable to cry. Unable to even think.
“Emmaline!”
She barely heard it through the ringing in her skull. The stink of scorched fabric and burned hair slammed into her senses, sour and metallic.
“Emmaline!”
Aeren hit the ground beside her, her hands flying over Emmaline’s arms, her face, shaking her roughly, fingers searching for signs of life. “Please, please don’t die.”
I’m fine. Emmaline tried to say it, but her jaw hung useless, mouth flooded with blood and broken teeth.
Behind Aeren, shadows swarmed the air, thick as oil. They poured from Ursula’s chest, twisting around Caelith like hungry serpents. Blood lifted with them—his blood—ripped straight from the raw gash down his face, from every split knuckle, every scrape, unraveling in shimmering crimson threads. They coiled tight, wrapping his throat, wrists, and ankles, holding him spread wide like a sacrifice on invisible chains.
Lightning crackled uselessly between his hands, sparks fizzing out as darkness smothered each one before it could fully form. His mouth stretched in a silent scream, eyes wide with the sharp-edged panic of a man who’d never truly felt fear until now.
Ursula stepped forward through the swirling magic, her eyes black from corner to corner. “Die.” The darkness yanked harder, twistingCaelith’s own blood like a garrote around his neck, every pulse sending a fresh spray into the air for her to command.
“Hang on, Emmaline!” Aeren’s voice broke through. “Your healer friend’s on the way!”
Emmaline blinked, the edges of her vision flickering, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Ursula—a queen crowned in blood and shadows.
