Page 77 of Queen of War and Ruin

“I came here to negotiate—” the king begins.

“No,” Laurance snaps. “We do not surrender to Vsenrog.”

Varitan grins. There’s a cold joy in the curve of his lips, something that makes me think of wolves and winter. Next to Laurance, the king gasps, then begins to cough. He’s still coughing when Varitan raises his hands. The air around me begins to hum. Malrik’s eyes gleam as the tall elf turns to face the armies.

“We gave you a chance,” Malrik declares. “Everyone witnessed it.”

“My army will fight to the death,” Laurance declares.

Malrik laughs. “They won’t get the chance,” he says.

My gut twists and my skin pulls tight. I remember the silver chains from the cave, the dark energy that melted the mountain’s core, and I clench my jaw to keep from screaming.

The screaming happens anyway.

The air around me starts to vibrate with a hungry, pulsing hum, making me feel like the whole world is trembling. I remember the Dragon Mine, and Fyrris saying I could serve as a conduit for magic. Which was stupid and impossible. Until it happened.

The screams get louder.

At first, I don’t realize the screams aren’t coming from me. It’s only when Lilias steps back, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes, that I turn to see what’s happening in the field below us.

And once again, I remember the mountain. The way the granite wall shimmered, like I was staring through a fire. Like the stone itself was melting.

The field beyond the palace walls is rippling like waves on the ocean, short and choppy. The beaten grass rolls and trembles as the ground shivers. Laurance’s army screams as the ground beneath them boils like water. The castle wall chatters behind me; I smell dust and stone.

And the ground opens.

It’s like tearing a piece of paper, or punching a hole through a wall. The ground trembles. It falls still. And then it yawns open like a great mouth, a massive, gaping hole in the world.

And the first of Laurance’s soldiers falls into the earth.

The screams grow louder, and I realize the men on the balcony are screaming as well. Hells, even Malrik’s army is screaming, the organized rows of Vsenrog soldiers turning into a churning, chaotic mess as they drop their weapons and flee.

The hole in the ground grows, hungry and dark, spinning out from the center. Laurance’s soldiers throw their weapons to the ground and run, but the ground falls away beneath their feet. And the shadows swallow them as they scream.

Something hard hits me between the shoulder blades. I realize I’ve backed up until the wall of the palace stopped me. Next to me, one of the guards turns and runs into the palace. Another guard vomits on the stone. The king of Ethiria collapses. No one else seems to notice.

And above it all, through the screaming and retching, through the smoke and dust and the strange, horrible groaning of the earth as Varitan’s magic rips it apart, Malrik’s voice rises.

The king of Vsenrog is laughing.

Slowly, I sink to the stone beneath me. My body responds to the darkness pulling the world apart, just like it did in the cave. My muscles shake, and my gut twists. Another guard runs past me, fleeing into the palace. The light grows dim; when I glance up, the sun is wreathed in a crown of smoke and dust.

The world doesn’t grow quiet, exactly. But eventually, my body stops aching. The strange pull of whatever the elf is doing dissipates like smoke. I blink, then wipe my eyes. My hand comes away coated with dust.

“What have you done?” a voice asks.

It’s thin and ragged, like a rusty blade. It takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from Prince Laurance.

The prince’s face is streaked with dust. He’s trembling, and the look in his eyes is beyond rage, beyond grief. Despite everything that idiot has done, some part of me still aches for him, here at the end of everything.

Laurance takes a step closer to Malrik. Malrik grins at him, his eyes wild.

“Come and see for yourself,” Malrik offers, sweeping a hand over the balcony.

“No,” I say, but my voice comes out as a strangled whisper.

Not that Laurance would listen to me. The prince of Ethiria steps forward, joining Malrik at the railing as if he’s accepting an invitation to a ball.