Page 91

“But I have support outside the court!” He made a gesture that was clearly a signal, but nothing happened. No one jumped out of the trees or moved through the crowd—nothing.

Clearly flustered, Stanton scanned the crowd, seeking someone. Panic radiated off him and buffeted against my heightened senses, but more alarming was the growing sense of desperation that rose at its back.

I slowly backed away, pulling Mela with me.

I needed to warn others. Desperation was a dangerous element. Stanton was liable to try anything to regain control of the situation. Mela tripped with a soft gasp and sat down heavily at my feet.

Stanton’s and Kent’s heads both turned toward me. My mate peered at me as he tried to read my expression.

Stanton snarled, launching himself across the circle at me.

I stumbled backward, dragging Mela with me, mind blanking on the basic personal protection spells I had been learning since arriving in the Wild Wood. Someone yelled. Kent shouted, and the world erupted in magic as spells, wards, and at least one blast of magical fire erupted in my face. I flung my arm up and a barrier of pure magic with it, tripping over Mela as I tried to protect her from the onslaught.

Mela screamed. I lost my grip on her as she was torn away from me.

“No!” Kent bellowed.

Landing hard, I rolled to the side and scrambled to my feet gasping ready to lunge for Mela, but I was too late.

Lord Stanton stood in the center of the circle, facing Kent, Greyson, and the crowd of fae. Mela hung from his grip on her left arm. Pale and frightened, tears ran down her cheeks as she let out small gasping sobs of fear as she searched the chaos for a friendly face. I didn’t pause as I ran toward her.

“Halt or I kill her!” Stanton demanded.

I stumbled to a stop, breathing hard as I mentally scrambled for a way to free her from Stanton’s grasp. Mela’s terror tore at my heart. I could feel her heart pounding through her chest. The sharp fear in her eyes demanded I do something—anything, but I couldn’t think.

The king, huddled at Stanton’s back, wilted as though someone was draining him of his will to live. Then he flinched as a ward exploded from Stanton and snapped to the edge of the stone circle, encasing the three of them in a spitting circle of vile-smelling magic.

The wrongness that came off the spell made my stomach turn. All the fae nearby instinctively scrambled back from the spitting magic. I flinched, but stood my ground. I would not leave Mela alone.

Kent! Where was Kent?

Reaching for the bond between us, I didn’t bother tracing it. I just yanked. He needed to be here. Now!

Lord Piro, who had been striding through the chaotic crowd toward the circle, halted abruptly and glared. “Don’t harm the human, Stanton, or you will regret it.” The half-ettin, who normally projected mild warmth, raised a burning magical field around him. The courtiers nearby hastily retreated to a safe distance, and the few caught between him and Stanton’s circle fled.

Lord Greyson’s power made a more subtle entrance as shadows and gray mist rose from the ground at our feet. The Dullahan shed some of his elegant presence as his form grew, and a ripple of terror filled the darkening air as the mist rolled out over the crowd, feeding into the buzz of growing power.

“If you harm so much as a hair on her head, you will wish you were dead,” Greyson warned. His normally deep voice resonated in the ground beneath my feet.

Stanton simply laughed. “Watch them flail about! And all over a child. A human child!”

“No need to be hasty,” Piro said.

Large hands closed over my shoulders. “No, don’t turn.” Kent’s familiar voice filled my ear even as my body and magic recognized the familiar sensation of his magic against my back. “I am using a spell to cloak my position. Stanton can’t know I am here or he will turn his wrath on you.”

I nodded my understanding as a wave of relief flooded me. Kent was here. He would help. Together we would figure out how to help Mela. “She is so scared,” I whispered, warily watching as Piro and Greyson continued distracting Stanton.

“Stay strong, darling. Now, I need you to use your sight.”

Confused for a moment, I blinked.

“Look at the relationship threads between Stanton and my sire. I suspect there is something odd going on there. Stanton shouldn’t have enough power to confront both Piro and Greyson.”

It hadn’t occurred to me, but he was right. Stanton’s power was composed more of political and intimidation from behind the scenes, not magic. True, he was fae, but not all fae were equal, and both Greyson and Piro should’ve been able to overwhelm Stanton. But somehow, he was holding both of them and a host of their guards off by himself.

I closed my eyes and accessed the sight I tried to ignore most of the time. Looking again, I flinched at the sheer power and quantity of magic in play around me. Kent’s glow of green and gold behind me was strongest, but it was also the easiest to filter out since it felt as familiar as my own skin thanks to our bond and the comforting hum of the realm’s magic binding us twice over.

Taking a measured breath, I expanded my sense of those around me. Time slowed as I reached outward. Ignoring the intricate web of relationship threads interconnecting the host of fae behind me, amplifying their fear, horror, panic, and a few pockets of delight at the spectacle, I homed in on those standing around the stone circle.