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Kerrigan gulped at the fury on Fordham’s face. He was a soldier. This was what he was best at. She just hoped she could get him back after all of this was over.
While Fordham engaged the archers, sending the majority of them scattering when they saw their prince in all his fury, Kerrigan took Tieran down to blow fire on the rest of the western docks. Fae were trying to stop the spread of the fire, to douse the decks to keep them from going up in flames. But it did nothing to dragon fire.
Kerrigan was pulling out of the next turn when a stray arrow hit her shield. She gasped, feeling weak in the knees at the poison. Then, just as she was about to pull the shield back up, something grabbed ahold of her.
She tried to turn to see what the hell was happening, but she couldn’t move. It was as if someone had grasped all of her limbs and frozen them in place. Then, with a yank like a rope around her middle, she was bodily pulled off of Tieran’s back.
She screamed as she free-fell toward the docks. She couldn’t even brace for impact because whatever had her was still locked on. Kerrigan prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t die.
Then, Netta’s body was underneath her, cushioning her fall and breaking whatever spell had hit her. Fordham grasped her round the middle, and the both of them rolled off of the dragon and onto the docks.
Kerrigan groaned. “What was that?”
Fordham shook his head as he came swiftly to his feet, pulling his magic close to himself.
Kerrigan was slower to get up. Whatever spell had been cast on her, it made her sluggish. She felt Tieran’s tug of concern, and she touched the bond to let him know she was okay.
“Well, this looks great,” Kerrigan muttered as she rose to her feet, the heat of the burning boats at her back.
Standing before them was a group of Fae in the black and silver of the House of Shadows. Each held a different color orb in their hands. Kerrigan’s gaze shifted from one to the other in confusion and then realization. These were illegal magical artifacts. The same ones that Basem Nix had been selling last year to make him rich. The ones that Clare Rahllins had claimed they sold to Lorian Van Horn. And now, they were here.
She didn’t know how that was possible, but illegal magic had never meant a good thing for her in the past. Basem had used orbs just like that to do all sorts of horrible things. Not to mention to make quick escapes in the way that Fordham did. The last thing they needed was for an easy escape for the House of Shadows.
Fordham straightened. “I am your crowned prince. Surrender, and I will be merciful.”
The leader stepped forward. She was a beautiful female with raven-black hair and a cruel expression. “You were exiled for your involvement with those beasts, and here you stand, with one of them against us. You are no prince of mine.”
Kerrigan didn’t dare look to Fordham to see his reaction to that comment. She could feel the knife go through her own heart, and she had never truly belonged to the House of Shadows. But she knew abandonment, and this had the same shape and feeling.
“That’s the thing about royalty,” Fordham said, low and lethal. “You don’t get to choose who your betters are.”
Then, the shadows surrounded him. A second later, he was behind the lead Fae. He had her head in his hands. The snap of her neck pierced the air, and then she collapsed dead.
The fear in the rest of the group’s eyes was beautiful. Kerrigan rushed in after him, drawing her sword at the same time as he did. She engaged the first soldier, feeling the hours and hours of practice snap into focus. Lorian had beaten her over and over again. He’d called her weak and pathetic. He’d spat on her confidence. But he’d also molded a fine soldier out of the dirt he ground her into.
She got inside the guard of the first, slicing through his ribs before he had a chance to use his magical artifact. The second one was ready for her, using the magic in her orb to cast terrifying monsters. Kerrigan stumbled as the first black creature came for her. She sliced through it with ease, and it dissolved into smoke. They were… illusions. Scary, potentially dangerous illusions but nothing more. She pulled deep from her well and blasted the illusions off of the docks and then ran the soldier through.
She reached Fordham by that point, and he’d taken out a half-dozen on his own. His sword was slick with blood, and his face was perfectly blank as he stared down the last pair.
