It didn’t. Balthazar deflected both spells andlaughed.
“Daddy dearest didn’t teach you much in the way of sparring, did he? Or were you against learning how? Worried you might break a nail?”
“Now that is just insulting,” Embry spat, advancing on Balthazar, not taking the bait and searching for Lazarus in the chaos over his shoulder. “My manicure is magically fortified, and I’ve had the requisite coven defensive training. I’m not a novice.”
“If you were trained by these people, Princess, you are most certainly in trouble.” Again, Balthazar laughed, tossing up a shield as she shot every spell rolling through her mind at his grin. They bounced off, but it felt good to do something. “Witches are like our little, battery-powered cousins. So cute. So ineffective against real talent.”
The witches had the upper hand in numbers, having double the people on their side, but not in magic. It took two to three witches to effectively defend against a barrage of magic from a single sorcerer. Which meant that Rye was over Embry’s shoulder, facing Balthazar with her. At her back, Rye Knighton, always.
“If sorcerers are so powerful, why aren’t youinpower?” Rye shot at Balthazar along with a bolt of fire that arced close enough to the top of Balthazar’s shield that smoke glanced off his perfectly pomaded waves.
“That’s the question, isn’t it, Knighton?” Balthazar asked, tossing all caution to the wind and hopping off the platform and onto the ground in front of them, shield up and eyes dancing. “Why are so many inferior witches clogging the Table’s seats with their inferior magic? Habit, stagnation, and nepotism, I suspect, if ourprincesshere is any indication.”
Embry’s breath caught as if all the wind had been knocked out of her.
Balthazar recognized the realization crossing her face and metit with a knowing smile. Yes, every time he’d usedPrincessas an endearment, he’d meant it as a slight. From the very first moment they’d met.
Your reputation precedes you, Princess.
Balthazar tossed his arms wide at the fight churning around them. “I mean, look at your witches now—there are dead men in this cemetery with a better chance to win this fight.”
Embry couldn’t help it; she looked around.
Balthazar was right.
The witches were mice, prey to two dozen sapphire-eyed cats with claws and a sadistic streak. Her friends and other young witches were mostly shooting spells from behind the safety of several grand Woodcross gravestones surrounding Hiram. Meanwhile the elder crew wielded powerful magic to no avail—other than wearing them out, Merle’s voice going hoarse for all the orders he was rattling off. And Daddy, well, the scars of the tussle with the vampires were visible in the lethargy of both his spells and his aim. Maybe she should—
“Em!” Rye shouted, and Embry blinked back to her position. Rye grabbed her by the waist and dove to the right—just as Fairfax and Ames, on the run from three sorcerers, plowed straight through the space she’d previously occupied. As they hit the ground, both Embry and Rye popped up and aimed for the same spot on Balthazar’s shield, hoping to crack it.
It bounced right off—and back at them.
Cursing, Embry and Rye dodged just in the nick of time, their own twin spells careening into a tombstone behind them, shards of weathered stone spraying their backs.
Dark magic seriously was something else.
Balthazar laughed so hard he tossed his head back, holding his defenses in a single palm and gathering something offensive with his free hand. So far, the sorcerer hadn’t attacked anything but their pride, but this? This would not be good.
“I’m inferior, then? Is that why you did it?” Embry asked, hoping the pain in her voice would toss him off-balance.
It didn’t. In fact, Balthazar seemed to feed upon it.
“Don’t sound so hurt, Princess. It wasn’t personal. You were the perfect pawn.” His teeth flashed. “Truly everything I could’ve wished for and more. Pliable, so desperate for approval and connection, so willing to help.”
Pliable?
PLIABLE?
Embry Woodcross would show Balthazar Hale how exactlynotpliable she was.
She couldn’t be bent. She couldn’t be broken. She wouldn’t let him eventhinkhe’d won this. Embry was going to institute the strategy she’d revealed to her friends in the conservatory, even if she had to adjust it on the fly.
“Rye,” Embry whispered. “Shields up for both of us.”
He knew the plan. He trusted her to execute. Rye funneled all his magic into both palms and a film of protective magic covered their bodies. As soon as the magic flew across her person, Balthazar laughed again before taking yet another menacing step forward. They couldn’t move backward, or they’d run into someone else’s fight.
Shield in place, Embry recited the incantation as quickly as possible.
The magic washed over her, and Embry disappeared before the sorcerer’s eyes.
