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She didn’t try to hide herself from the soldiers or skulk through their numbers, killing in the cloak of darkness. Wanting Hador to witness every atrocious act she committed against him and those who willingly followed his orders, she stepped into the brightest sliver of light.
The first line spotted her—the men holding the containers of stickysap. Shouts and commands rang out. “She’s here.”
“Positions!”
“Attack on my signal.” Guards obeyed, shifting to prepare.
“How kind of you to gather together for your own slaughter,” she called to one and all. “Saves so much time.”
“There’s no need for a battle this night,” the king shouted from the midst of his mercenaries. “Kaysar told you to let me go.”
“And I did. His case is settled. Mine is not.” Her voice hardened. “You killed my relationship with the man I love. Now, you die.”
Cookie waved her hands, throwing a volley of thorns from her fingertips. The elderseed powered the missiles, producing double the number with twice the speed. A row of men grunted as the thorns tore through their bodies; they dropped weapons and containers as they clutched their wounds and toppled. Stickysap poured out, glugging over the ground to create dangerous pools.
Other soldiers blasted her with arrows and spears, but she summoned vines from the earth, blocking them. The wall of stalks absorbed the hits, the stings barely registering.
Footsteps pounded. A lot of them. Foes raced to surround her.
As she pushed forward, winding through the stalks, she summoned other vines—in the midst of the army as well as the tents. Screams rent the air, and the ground shook, coils of vine snatching and squeezing anyone in their path.
The guards able to avoid capture either dropped from the quakes or hurled other arrows and spears at her vines.
When she climbed to the other side of the tangled wall—past the pools of stickysap—she hurled more thorns. Some of her targets fell. Others hacked at the stalks, her slight stings escalating into sharp pains. Still others sprayed stickysap upon her leaves, stunting their growth.
Movement. She spun—Hador leaped over fallen bodies to reach a vine untainted by the adhesive. The entire vine withered to ash before she released it—weakening Cookie.
Micah’s warning echoed. A drainer.
She released her hold on the ground vines, as well. No more weakening from the king’s touch. Dangling soldiers toppled.
“I will drain you to death, woman,” Hador bellowed. “You’ll never reach me.”
He’d been unable to drain her in the throne room, because she’d paralyzed him with venom. She could do it again.
A whisper of noise. She whirled around. Twenty men rushed from the trees, brandishing containers of stickysap, bows and swords. Thinking fast, she sprayed a volley of thorns—at the containers. The thick syrup oozed out, stopping opponents in their tracks, one after the other.
“Argh!” A sharp pain erupted in her calf, and she glanced down. An arrow protruded from her limb.
Black dots flashed over her vision as she yanked the projectile free. Despite the pain, she jumped and dodged other whooshing arrows. Healing came fast. Fingertips burning, she threw more thorns, stopping the soldiers with bows. But she had to grow new vines to avoid a procession of spears, allowing Hador to weaken her further with a simple grab.
Even with wobbling knees, she straightened and unleashed a fury of thorns upon the king, aided by the elderseed. He ducked, avoiding most of the missiles with shocking grace and speed for someone his size. But even as agile and quick as he was, he missed the last one, its poisoned tip slashing through his torso.
As he fought the momentary paralysis, his people raced to surround and protect him. People she downed with thorns, two...three...five at a time. Around them, soldiers tripped over the injured or dead, falling into the random puddles of stickysap.
“Why do you fight for him?” Hador grated into the darkness. He must have realized his team was losing, his numbers dwindling quick. “Kaysar will not thank you for this.”
No, he wouldn’t. Not until he’d found his happiness and forgiven her. But Cookie didn’t bother answering the king as she finished off what remained of his army.
Finally, Hador was the last man standing.
They faced off, only twenty feet apart, surrounded by the dead and dying, raindrops falling in a soft stream.
The king panted heavily and fisted his hands. “I think killing you will bring me great joy. Kaysar will know hurt, as I have known hurt.”
Most of her injuries had already healed, but time wasn’t her friend. She smiled coldly. “As far as final words go, yours are pretty stupid.”
Snarling, he tossed a dagger. She grew a vine, blocking. He’d expected the action and lunged, reaching out with his free hand to touch another section of her vines before she severed the connection. More weakness for her, more strength for him.
That strength empowered him. Made him brave. He smiled coldly and trekked closer. Realization. If he got his hands on her or her vines, she would lose the battle, elderseed or not.
