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I hold my breath, waiting, praying, hoping for Sigurd to rise. A deep sigh slips from my lips as he does. He’s hurt but not out. Sigurd pulls his sword from its scabbard again, apparently ready to resume a more physical battle than one of magic. His wings vanish.
It takes everything I have not to run to him. I yearn to, but I’m no fool. Katiya would catch me before I could disrupt their duel. At best, I’d be a distraction. At worst, a fatal one.
I need—
A strong arm wraps around my middle. There’s no time for fear before magic tingles across my skin. Katiya lets out an inhuman screech, lunging in my direction, but she’s too late. Suddenly, we’re yards away, staring at the group of Unseelie. Other fae surround them, dressed in greens and tans, trees emblazoned on their chests, and blades at the ready.
I push on the arm around me to no avail. “Get off—”
“Don’t panic.”
“Galen?” Instantly, I stop struggling. His hold on me lessens, allowing me to turn enough to confirm his identity.
He tries to force a smile, but it doesn’t quite hold. “I couldn’t leave you with them.”
I should be furious since he’s the one who got me into this mess, but all I feel is relief.
A screech cracks through my moment of peace. Katiya stands a few feet away, twin short swords drawn, her stance filled with simmering fury as she stares us down.
No sooner have I seen her than Galen is shoving me behind him and drawing his own sword.
“How dare you!” Katiya races toward him.
They meet in a clash of blades. I barely have time to jump out of the way to avoid becoming an obstacle as Galen retreats a step in the wake of Katiya’s onslaught.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I scramble further away and scan the plane. Fae, who must be the Court of the Forest, surround the group of Unseelie. Moria and the Court of Air look uncertain, shifting from their tight formation into a jumble of hesitation.
Sigurd and Kallan still fight, and the sight makes my heart skip a beat. Blood coats Sigurd’s arm. His stance is haphazard at best. My heart leaps into my throat, choking off the screech building in my lungs.
He’s losing.
And for what? I’m not even in the possession of the Unseelie anymore.
Without thinking, I race for them across the field of cracked soil and yellowed grasses.
I have to stop them. I can’t let him die.
Sigurd knocks Kallan back with a powerful blow, but it’s a momentary victory. He catches sight of me, his whole form going still.
Shit. Don’t look at me, you idiot!
Suddenly, he lets out a roar, air flying out from him in all directions.
I gasp, stumbling to a halt and nearly twisting my ankle on the rocky ground. Dust from the ground gives the magic tangible shape, showing the air twisting in a circle around their dueling ground. It rises high in the air, blocking my path—blocking everyone.
A terrible chill races over my skin as I realize what he’s created. Not just a blast of air like before.
A damn tornado.
The worst memories of my childhood flash before my eyes, scenes from that awful night, which started so normally. I came home from school. We ate dinner—spaghetti, which is probably why I can’t stomach it now. The tornado sirens went off, but we didn’t think too much of it. They aren’t exactly uncommon where we lived. Even so, we went into my room, the most central place in the house. The storm went quiet. We thought it was gone, but it was just the beginning. I’ll never forget the roaring and whistling sound that filled the air just before the tornado struck or the way all the hair on my body stood on end.
It's the same sensation now, the rush of the wind that sounds like a racing train, the charge and pressure in the air that tells you something is wrong, even if you can’t see it yet.
I’m frozen, trapped in that nightmare again, my legs shaking beneath me.
Sigurd knows my fear, what happened in my childhood, and the way it still scars me. I told him about it.
Despite that, he chose to waste his magic and construct this monstrosity.
