Page 121 of Wings of Destruction

I turn abruptly and my head spins. “Evie isn’t my fut⁠—”

“Kieran!” Astrid interrupts.

She’s in front of my face in seconds. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

Her words snap over my frustration, and I grab her by the shoulders, more to steady myself than anything else.

“Where? Where are they?”

Astrid’s eyes glint. “Finally.”

She turns, taking off, leading the way.

Morgan and Evie. A match made in the darkest parts of the Void. How did the two get into each other’s orbits again?

Was Morgan assigned to Evie’s quarters, a warped and sick twist of fate?

Or did Evie seek⁠—

My ribs constrict as we rush into the dragon aerie and down, always down, into the belly of the castle.

Astrid sprints toward the dining hall. I must have been more out of it than I thought. She hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes before racing up to get me again. Or the word came through from one of her little spies in DragonSpear.

The King’s castle isn’t the only one under Astrid’s surveillance. She’s got eyes and ears in every wall.

My vision clouds and I’m tense, terrorized, by the time we skid through the open doors of the dining hall. I pull up short.

A small crowd blocks my view. Several heads whip around at our arrival but their attached bodies press tighter together and form a wall of flesh. They’ve got a front row seat to the fight.

I growl and several of the youngest girls skitter out of the way.

“Move,” Astrid says under her breath.

Finally, the crowd parts for us and I lose my mind.

Morgan has Evie pinned to the ground, punching the blonde in the face, over and over. All that red hair is pinned to the top of her head and there are a few bruises on her neck and cheeks. Her lip is split and dripping blood, and her brow bone has swollen slightly, giving her an off-kilter appearance.

But Evie is barely recognizable.

Morgan rages, her lips twisted in a silent scream, her fists landing with machine-like precision. It’s all Evie can do to try and protect herself. The fight is mismatched and not the way I thought it would be.

She is a vision, a fighter, no longer a victim but a victor. My admiration of her swells.

What’s wrong with me? Something serious. Something with no cure.

Astrid buries her knuckles in my side. “Kieran, do something!”

I shake my head, but the cobwebs don’t clear. “Hey. Hey! Break it up. Stop it.”

As expected, neither of them listens. Morgan does not slow her frantic destruction and Evie yells, kicking her legs, but can’t dislodge Morgan.

I wade into the melee and grab Morgan by the elbows, hauling her off of Evie. She pulls against me like her body refuses to stop its forward motion. Her teeth gnash and I catch a glimpse of tears at the corner of her eyes.

Her words blur together with animalistic intensity.

Both women struggle, Evie kicking out and managing to strike my ankle. My right leg threatens to buckle, and I widen my stance to avoid any other rogue hits, hauling Morgan against me.

Her slippers skitter across the floor while she struggles for purchase. It’s too long before I realize—it’s a trick. I’ve got her in my arms and close enough for her to turn the tables.