Page 71 of On Brutal Thrones

Magic tears toward us.

Talon’s arm locks around my waist and spins me into him. The blast catches him across the back instead of hitting me, and the force sends both of us stumbling off balance.

“Talon!”

“I’m fine.” His voice comes through clenched teeth.

Movement flashes through the stalks. Magnus. Then another Vulture appears to our left. A third to the right.

My stomach drops.

They were waiting for us.

“Stay on the path!” I shout.

Then Magnus smiles, and magic explodes through the field. A blast strikes the ground between us, spraying dirt and pollen into the air. I throw an arm over my face as the plants react instantly.

The field wakes. The flowers bend. Vines erupt from beneath the grass. Acid hisses through the air.

“Shit!”

The peaceful connection I’ve been holding shatters beneath a wave of alarm from the plants.

I feel it. Their fear. Their anger. The sudden violent awareness spreading through the roots beneath us.

Not us.

I shove the thought into the connection.

They’re attacking you. Not us.

A flower stops inches above Fenric’s head.

He stares up at it.

“Nyx?”

“Move!”

He moves.

The flower slams down behind him, and everything becomes chaos. The Vultures keep attacking from between the stalks, deliberately forcing us apart, even as the flowers turn on them too. One warlock barely ducks beneath a snapping bloom before throwing another spell at us. Thorian blocks it with his sword, then has to leap sideways when a massive flower crashes down where he was standing. Fenric thrusts his spear toward another warlock, driving him back, only for a vine to wrap around the shaft and wrench it sideways.

Talon stays closest to me, and Magnus notices… of course he does. Another blast flies toward us. Talon shoves me in one direction and dives in the other.

“Talon!”

“I know!”

He rolls beneath a whipping vine and comes up with his sword already swinging.

I can’t watch him. I can’t watch any of them. That realization terrifies me more than anything. I have to watch everything. The warlocks. The flowers. The vines moving beneath the grass. The bushes swelling before they spray acid. The glowing path beneath our feet. Four lives, all depending on me noticing the next threat quickly enough.

My head pounds.

A flower shifts to my left. Stay. A vine curls toward Thorian. No. A bush opens near Fenric.

“Acid!”