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He could tell she meant it, but what she thought she could do, he couldn’t imagine.
“Need a woman’s help?” Ben sneered.
For a moment, Ian got lost in the thousands of memories of the man in front of him. He didn’t recognize this version of Ben, the dark look in his eye, the way his nostrils flared, the cruel line of his mouth. “Were you pretending all those years? By all the elf lords, I never knew you.”
“No, you didn’t. You ruled Camberlaune. You never thought about me or what my life was like constantly in your shadow. Women flocked to you and gave me a cursory glance because I didn’t have your weight, your power.”
“You’ve done all this because of jealousy? How many have you had murdered, Ben, solidifying your position?”
A diabolical expression descended on his features, his eyes red-rimmed and bright. “Over a thousand, counting all the realms. And one more tonight.”
Ben launched, a blur of motion Ian barely saw coming. Because of the strange movement, Ian knew some other force was at work.
Another spell.
Ben slammed into his chest this time, forcing Ian hard against the bedside table. Ben lifted Ian up with a hand beneath his arm, then punched him in the face repeatedly with his right fist.
Ian’s head jerked back with each blow. He couldn’t breathe and his brain was a mess because of the spell. But he’d been a warrior a long time and swept his leg behind Ben, knocking him off balance. As a result, Ben let go of him and fell to the floor.
The room was small for two big bodies. Ian moved toward the foot of the bed as Ben lifted up off the floor, levitating. Ian saw a flash of something, but he didn’t know what it was. Shit, did he have dagger on him?
Once more, Ian’s head grew clouded because of the added spell and he didn’t see Ben coming until Ian felt a cut across his abdomen.
He looked down. Ben had sliced him, yet didn’t penetrate the muscle, though he could have.
“I’m taking you down, Ian, one cut at a time. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
Ian stumbled as he saw the blur once more. He felt a burn over his right shoulder, then his left. But his mind wasn’t working at all.
The next cut was low at his waist. He didn’t even see movement of any kind this time. He dropped to his knees. “Regan … run.”
~ ~ ~
Regan had been right not to leave. Ben had activated a latent spell, something with Margetta’s signature all over it.
She’d dropped into her meditation with the first cut of Ben’s dagger. She’d had no doubt what would happen next since the spell was messing with Ian’s mind and making it impossible for him to function.
She could feel the formula, its intricacies and again its beauty. But she didn’t have time to construct a counter-spell. Ian would be long dead before she could lift the veil of the spell so that Ian could battle Ben on an equal footing. With so much blood already pouring out of him, he’d be too weak to fight.
Ian had dropped to his knees holding his stomach as Ben moved in behind him. He slid a hand beneath Ian’s chin, exposing his throat. He brought the blade up to his neck, smiling. She barely recognized the monster ready to kill a man he’d known for centuries and fought beside almost as long.
She couldn’t let Ian die, but what could she do? She remembered what it had been like to share the blood tattoos with him. Each time he’d battled, she’d been with him and had felt how he did what he did. On instinct, she warmed up her battle frequency.
She centered herself on his warrior-ness and without giving it too much thought levitated, then rolled in the air in order to come up behind Ben. At the same time, she brought her battle energy into her palm. The moment she made contact with Ben’s skull, she let her power flow.
He hadn’t expected the blow. He turned toward her, a surprised look in his eye, then crumpled unconscious to the floor, his knife still gripped in his hand.
Regan dropped down beside Ian who sat on his knees and leaned against the bed. His complexion was pale and his eyes were closed. Blood poured from his cuts. She checked his throat first, but she’d been in time; there was only a small wound.
He would live.
For now, she focused on bringing forward her healing energy and letting it flow. But just as his wounds were almost sealed up, a golden light suddenly filled the bedroom and it wasn’t good.
“What the hell is this?” Margetta shouted. “Ben just pathed me saying he’d taken Ian out.”
Regan shrugged. “Guess he didn’t count on me.”
Margetta narrowed her eyes, her lips curling in disgust. “The only thing I hate more than an imbecile is a smart ass.”
