Page 60 of Fated to the Wicked King

This is all her doing, suddenly popped into my mind.

My mind raced. All those infected villages and people. Did this have something to do with me? Could it be that this was what those men were saying I was at fault for? I wanted to tear my hair out in helpless frustration. What did I do? What had I done? I still couldn’t remember anything about my past.

Gregory’s face was white with anger. “You’re lying! You probably caused the malady. You would use any excuse to terrorize the kingdom, to murder entire villages. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

The king scoffed. “Lucky for me, I don’t care what you think.”

Sophie shrieked a moment later as another arrow skimmed her shoulder, slicing cloth and skin in a bright line of red.

“Sophie!” Gregory pulled her tighter to his side, shielding her with his body.

I tried to blink against the furious, frigid wind battering us. Out of the corner of my eye, Sophie’s healing magic glowed.

The king’s magic continuously burst into bright sparks all around us. He swore under his breath—so sharp, my gaze flicked toward him.

My heart almost stopped. The fatigue was clear in his eyes. His forehead creased in frustration. We couldn’t keep this chase up for much longer.

The mountain trail steepened.

Houses thinned into scattered cottages and store sheds clinging to the slope, while the road narrowed into switchbacks carved into ice and stone.

Behind us, the villagers were still coming.

The king stopped so suddenly that I nearly fell. He turned, face pale with strain, and thrust both hands toward the ridge above the lane.

Power tore outward.

The mountainside answered.

A thunderous crack split the air as the upper drift sheared loose, and for one suspended heartbeat the world held still. Then the snow moved.

Gregory’s shout was colored with aggravated disbelief. “An avalanche? Really?”

“Run faster!” Sophie cried out.

The track vanished beneath our feet as we hurled ourselves downward, half running, half sliding, snow already rushing after us in a roaring white wall that swallowed cottages, fences, and screaming villagers alike. The sound was monstrous, louder than battle, louder than thought itself.

I risked one glance back.

The village was disappearing.

Roofs splintered. Chimneys snapped. Entire paths vanished beneath churning white as if they had never existed.

The avalanche gained on us with terrifying ease.

We leapt the last drop off the trail just as the mountain overtook us.

Nineteen

WEAKNESS

The fall seemed to last forever.

Iron screamed around us as a fractured platform gave way beneath our feet, bolts shearing loose and chains snapping overhead in a rain of sparks. I hit metal grating shoulder-first, pain bursting through my side, before momentum rolled me across the slick floor and into a wall of riveted steel.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere nearby, something heavy landed with a violent clang amidst a loud splash.