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Chapter Eighteen
Ronna had broken hertibia when she hit the ground.
Sorin eyed her dispassionately as he strode back to where Amy sagged against the wall of the cabin.
Wings fanning the air, he paused by Ronna with a thin-lipped smile. “Are you the one who told the boy I wasn’t real?”
Ronna’s eyes darted to his wings, then away. “Nobody’s seen the dragon in decades, centuries. He’s dead, if he ever existed.”
“Do I look dead to you, woman?” Amused, Sorin stepped over her. She went to grab his leg and he shook her off.
Stopping by Amy, he turned so he could keep an eye on both women.
Amy eyed his wings, her gaze skating over the scaled-like appearance of his chest before moving onto Ronna. Her mouth hardened as she pushed off the wall.
“You lied to me,” Amy said softly. She swayed, but steadied before Sorin could offer a hand. Still, as she started down the steps, he helped with one hand under her elbow.
Once she was on the ground, he let her go.
The men were all gone. None had bothered to take the corpses that still littered the ground on the other side of the pit. He’d toss them in there once this was done, incinerate the lot of them. The mud would bake, turning the mess into a kiln. That gave him a bit of an idea, but he tucked it aside, leaving it to stew while Amy dealt with her very own personal demon.
“I didn’t lie,” Ronna spat. “You wanted to kill the Fae. You were angry about your man dying, so I helped you get vengeance. And you gave me what I wanted.”
“My son’s blood? The death of innocent people?” Amy’s voice shook. “I never wanted innocent people to die. But you kept pushing and pushing, and when I said no, you threatened my son.”
Ronna just smiled.
Enraged, Amy threw herself at the other woman.
Sorin remained still, although he had doubts about Amy’s strength, even though Ronna was wounded.
But then he saw the sunlight flash over steel.
Ronna and Amy both tumbled the ground, Amy’s weight forcing Ronna back from her sitting position. Ronna screeched in fury, then fear.
Then...nothing.
Amy panted as she rolled to her back.
“Take...the...blade back to Gia. It’s hers.”
Sorin looked over. His heart tripped in his chest at the sight of it. So old, but it looked oddly...new. And familiar, jutting up from Ronna’s chest, the hilt beautifully carved to resemble a stalking tiger. And the blade itself would be just as lovely.
“Where did that come from?”
Amy’s lips twitched as she pushed into a sitting position. “I stole it.” Her lips were pale now, too, almost the same color as her skin, like the very lifeblood was spilling out of her. But it wasn’t that.
Sorin felt the essence of her, sinking deeper and deeper into the earth, taking her strength with it. The longer she kept her magic active, the quicker she’d die.
“You can let the spell go,” he said quietly, even as his curiosity about the blade pushed him on.
“No. Ronna’s still fighting...I feel it.” Her eyes moved to Ronna. Sorin’s followed. “She’s trying to find energy in the earth. I’m...blocking her. Dunno how. I just...made a...wa..”
He studied the witch and frowned.
“A wall?” he asked Amy.
But she had gone silent.
