Page 111 of Fae Farewells

But at first, she didn’t move. She waited for him to get closer, then she kneeled in the smoke, using it to cover herself until it completely obscured her. There wasn’t a flash of silver hair or the bones of her wings to be seen.

Bowers kept coming at her, or where he thought she was.

She sprang from the smoke several feet from her starting point, wrapping her arms and legs around the underside of his neck. He swung his head around, frantically trying to dislodge her, but she wouldn’t let him go.

As he continued thrashing about, she slid around his neck, grabbing handfuls of his white main. Blood coated her face where she had ripped a part of his neck out. I could see he was healing, though slowly, the missing chunk too deep to knit itself closed.

He bucked, and she hugged against him, her back bloodied but bare. Bowers jumped into the air, flapping his wings harder than before, clearly not used to carrying a rider.

Novak sucked in a sharp breath, too much surprise in the sound. I turned to Vaughn, finding Alania bleeding profusely as he cut into her with icy blades.

Our fae moved as if he was a part of the smoke covering the floor, gliding around his aunt, strike after strike. He was fast, light on his feet, fucking angry. I didn't know exactly how angry he was when he’d shoved Sloane, but now I could see he’d been holding back.

Everything she threw at him, he outmatched. Ice was natural for him, but he knew how to manipulate water as well.

When she struck at him, his ice daggers melted but still kept their shape, still cut into her with the swiftness I expected from the Summer soldiers.

Each swing brought him closer to Alania.

Each swing made her step back.

Undecipherable expressions passed over her features as she fought for her life. She kicked, aiming for Vaughn’s knee, but he side-stepped, gaining another inch into her personal space.

Close combat wasn’t her speciality. Her attacks had no power behind them. Her focus frayed as she tried and failed to push him backward again.

But these were all things our fae already knew.

He was exploiting every weakness she had, but she knew nothing of his weaknesses. Not physically, anyway. One good look at him told me he didn’t have any right now.

She could have one of his sisters in her grasp, or even Sloane, and Vaughn wouldn’t think twice about shoving one of those icicles straight through her forehead.

The watery blade in his right hand trickled away, morphing around his knuckles right before he punched his aunt in the mouth.

“That was fucking cool,” Novak murmured.

“I’m shocked that he punched a woman,” I acknowledged. “Not that she doesn’t deserve it… I just didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Does she really count, though?” the demon inquired.

We hummed our agreement, observing Alania hit the stairs to her throne’s platform with sick fascination. The stone crumbled beneath her, skating across the floor. She pushed up to her hands and knees as Vaughn stalked her movements, more predatory than I’d ever seen him.

“Done so soon, Alania?” we heard him savagely whisper.

She spat blood on the floor. “Just getting started.”

A waterspout surrounded Vaughn, but he walked right through it, the same way Sloane did with my vortex. He waved his arm at his side, making a C motion that caused Alania’s attack to turn on her.

The water washed over her in a continuous loop, holding her body to the floor. Vaughn shook his head, staring down at her as she struggled to free herself.

“I was hoping,” he muttered, disappointment thickening his accent while anger made his voice nearly unrecognizable. “After all the shit you put us through, you would be a more worthy opponent. But I see we were simply too caught in your scare tactics to realize what a piss-poor fae you really are.”

“Fucking bastard,” Sloane snarled suddenly, landing on the floor in a crouch near us. “I’m running out of buttons for these mother fuckers to push today.”

Two daggers and two thin vials of green liquid landed in her hands. She pushed one of each to Vaughn, where he had Alania pinned down on the opposite end of the throne room.

Then Sloane snapped her wings out in a bloody spray, launching herself back into the air so hard, marble fractured beneath her feet. She bounced from surface-to-surface, leaving broken prints in the walls as she confused the alicorn with her random pattern of movement.

Vaughn smashed the vial against the blade. Glass shattered, tiny pieces scattering across the floor as he slammed the poisoned dagger into Alania’s chest in one fluid movement.