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Chapter 41
Watchingtheduelisthe hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not watching would be impossible.
Sigurd fights for me. For his court too and the pride of his people, but I’m the reason this duel is happening. I’m the reason his court could lose their treasure.
I’m the reason he could die.
And I hate it. I hate myself for the position he’s in. Worse, I hate that I feel helpless, like some damsel in distress that I vowed at a young age never to be. From the moment my parents died in that tornado, I’ve had to act above my age—to be strong, when I really just want to fall apart. Gran was hurting too. Me being miserable wouldn’t help. And then she needed me, and Tabitha needed me, and I had to be strong—for them, if not for myself. Someone had to keep my family going, and it had to be me.
The fae aren’t my family exactly—well, except Uncle Mark—but I love Sigurd. I’ve come to love and appreciate this world. I will not fall apart while everything hangs on the line.
I have to do…something.
Sigurd blocks another blow from Kallan and his wicked sword. Fully charged or not, it sings through the air and meets Sigurd’s blade repeatedly in a crash of metal that rings down to my bones. Even from a distance away, I can see the focus both fighters possess. I’m glad of it, that Sigurd has his head in the game. He’s fighting well, but Kallan seems just as strong and shows no sign of slowing down.
This duel has been clean so far, blades meeting in a lethal dance, but I’m under no illusion it will stay that way. Sigurd has an arsenal of magic at his disposal, and I have no doubt he’ll use it if he has to.
If only I can get free, maybe I can invalidate their duel somehow—make them stop.
Both sides look on uneasily, the Court of Air in a tight formation behind Moria, who stands eerily still, and the Unseelie jostling behind Katiya and me, a few adding commentary when their king lands a blow.
With effort, I pull my attention from the duel to Katiya. “You don’t have to hold me here. They’re already fighting.”
She tracks the duel with her eyes, both sets of ears twitching atop her head as if she hears things too quiet for my human senses. At first, I think she hasn’t heard me, but then her grip tightens painfully. “You’re my one task,” she says without looking away. “This is all I can do to help him now.”
Darn it if she isn’t right. But maybe I can distract her from that task, if even briefly.
“What happens if your brother falls?” I ask.
She twitches, and I know I’ve struck a chord.
“Do you become king? Or rather queen?”
“Hush!” Her nails dig in so hard I bite my lip to hold back a whimper. Blood pools underneath one of her nails and runs down my arm. She’s holding me so tight I’ve started to lose feeling other than the pain of her nails gouged into my skin.
Painful for me but working. I can handle a little pain.
The ground shudders, a stiff breeze whips at my hair, and I snap my attention back to the duel. Breath catches in my throat. Sigurd’s wings are out again, and he’s taken flight, sending volleys of air from above toward his opponent.
And I see why. The ground has split in two, leaving a deep chasm where they were standing.
The fight has escalated, and though it looks like Sigurd has the advantage from the air, I can’t hope it will last, especially not with Kallan literally cutting through Sigurd’s magic with his sword. The gusts aren’t landing, not on their target anyway.
“Would the Unseelie follow you?” I ask Katiya. One glance behind us shows they aren’t paying us any attention. Every single one is focused on their king fighting for his life and their futures. “Do you think they’d stand with you the way they do Kallan?”
She wrenches my arm, and I cry out. Blood runs more freely across my skin to drip onto the ground, but I have her attention. I pointedly look to my bloody arm then meet her sharp, feline gaze. “Your brother doesn’t like harm to humans.”
With a hiss, she releases me. Feeling returns to my arm in a heady rush.
A loud gasp cuts across the field of battle. I shift my attention just in time to see a blast of wind barrel into Sigurd’s wing, leaving it askew and him floundering to the ground.
“No!” I cry.
He hits with a hard thud, sending out another wave of air that visibly ripples across the ground. This time, I see what caused the gasp. Instead of cutting through the magic, Kallan uses that ancient sword to reflect it back at Sigurd. The blast sends my mate rolling across the ground, tumbling over his wings, which must be ruined.
“The sword reflected the blast!” one Unseelie roars.
“It can do more than that,” Katiya says, her voice filled with awe. “It can open up the world to us.”
