Page 189 of A Thief Among Fae

Gods, help me—if they’re even real.

Then his voice fills my mind, clear as daylight.

Not Gashil’s.

Desmond’s.

“Your Gift moves inanimate objects. Yet I suspect it’s far more nuanced. You may have the potential to move not just objects, but the material within them as separate entities. Power isn’t born. It’s made.”

As my vision glazes over, I stare at the marble columns that support the vaulted ceiling. One of them ends right behind Gashil and me. A crack already runs through it, courtesy of that earth-wielder during the first throes of the fight.

That’s it. I have to throw my magic at it and pray.

I give up on struggling, falling limp even as my lungs scream for air. My magic surrounds the column, whispering through it, searching for where it’s structurally weakest.

There.

“Untether,” I gasp out, and I force all of my magic into the epicenter of the column’s flaw.

A second goes by. Dread drums within me, the buzzing in my ears so loud that I can barely think. Why didn’t it work? What did I do wrong? I’ve failed to stop Gashil again, and this time, it’ll cost my life.

Then a dull rumble echoes through the ballroom. Fractures branch off the main crevice, then the column shifts ever so marginally. Cracks web across the ceiling.

The marble splits, and a shadow falls over us as the column’s top half barrels down.

Gashil looks up. He drops me. My knees hit the floor, pain reverberating through my bones. He sprints out of the way as I raise my shaking hands.

The hunk of marble freezes in midair. I tremble, and my skin feels hot enough to catch flame. I scream as I thrust it away, aiming for Gashil. The room shudders when the marble lands, but I don’t hear a scream. Everything is so blurry. I must’ve missed him.

He’ll come for me again, and I’ll be too weak to do a damn thing. I’m expending too much magic, just like when we faced the lindwyrm. But this time, no one has my back. I’m alone and⁠—

“Oi! Gashil!” someone hollers.

I flinch, staring at the source of the voice as the haze slowly clears. Male. Dark hair. It can’t be Desmond. He’s fighting Neiro, and he’d never talk like that⁠—

“Oi!” the male shouts again, frantically waving his hand. He’s without blades or armor, and his other arm ends in a bandaged stub.

Gashil pushes free of the rubble. His irate growl throbs through my head as he clenches his iron sword.

“You killed my brother. Remember that? His name was Nikolai!” Finnian yells. “I won’t let you kill Cyn, too!”

A dark laugh echoes through me. “You fae are always so foolish, aren’t you? I’ll just have to tear you limb from limb first.”

Chapter 56

Iknow when Gashil is projecting into Finnian’s mind because he falls to one knee, his hand splayed out to catch his balance.

“Fight it, Finnian!” I yell, but my voice is hoarse and doesn’t carry. Shit. This is not what I had in mind when I wanted someone to have my back.

I push myself to my feet, but Gashil’s already hovering over Finnian, iron blade poised to slice⁠—

Finnian leaps to his feet and punches Gashil.

Gashil screams. He claws at his face, his armored fingers too clumsy to pluck the slender sewing needle stabbed into his eye. He roars, knocking Finnian back. Finnian’s head hits the floor with a crack, and he falls still.

“Leave my friends alone!” I charge, rage blinding me to the pain that still burns through my body. I won’t let him get away with this. I won’t let him kill another one of my friends—my family.

I throw out my palms, aiming for his armor. Gashil flies back, his armor plates slamming into the wall with him trapped inside like an insect pinned to cork. Blood seeps from his pale, punctured eye.