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My heart thumped. Was she changing sides? Had she ever had a side, really?
Her hands shot out. A familiar sight appeared. A shadowy serpent slithered from the palms of her hands, shooting towards Avriel with incredible speed.
Before he could move, his legs were out from under him, just as mine had been.
Lyrastra moved her hands in a swirling pattern and the wraithlike serpent’s body constricted, squeezing Avriel’s legs painfully.
He shouted angrily at her, but she kept smiling and tugging with her hands, the serpent’s bonds growing tighter and tighter.
There was a flash of green. Erion was moving from the edge of the forest.
Selwyn shouted something to Lyrastra. She nodded, glancing briefly at Erion with an expression of bored annoyance.
There was a cracking sound as Lyrastra swiftly pulled her hands apart, then shoved them hard together. Avriel yelped in pain.
“She broke one of his fucking legs,” I said with delight. Then I frowned. “Why didn’t she break his neck?”
I thought it was a fair point. Avriel seemed ready to kill her if it came down to it. Why hadn’t she taken him out when she had been given yet another chance?
“I have a theory about that,” Javer murmured from where he had maintained his position in between Odessa and I. “Why don’t I tell you once it’s fleshed out.”
I glanced past him at Odessa. She met my eyes but simply shrugged.
Down below, Lyrastra was finally showing the full range of her serpentine powers and demonstrating without a doubt that she might have done far worse to Avriel than simply leaving him with a broken leg.
Her shadow serpent furled forward, wrapping itself around Erion’s neck just as he leaped past Selwyn and Draven and placed his foot onto the wooden bridge.
In an instant, he was yanked back, his body falling to the ground. His hands clawed uselessly at his throat, falling through mist and shadow as the wraith snake curled around and around his neck, squeezing the breath out of him mercilessly and swiftly.
There was a crack. It wasn’t a leg this time.
Erion’s body collapsed limp on the ground. He was dead.
Lyrastra strode up to the body, looked down at it with distaste, then kicked it off the edge of the cliff into the churning waters below.
She didn’t even glance up at the onlookers in the gallery.
I wondered how Erion’s parents felt about Lyrastra’s particular brand of justice.
Draven was rising to his feet. There was a scowl on his face that seemed to be more to do with some disagreement he was having with Selwyn than the pain he was in.
Selwyn was gesturing to the bridge. Draven pointed at Lyrastra, then called to her.
Clearly, he wanted her to go first.
She shrugged and started over the first wooden slat, then turned and waited for the two men to follow.
Avriel was slowly pushing himself up from the ground, his useless leg twisted at an unnatural angle, a look of anguish on his handsome face.
Good. Let him suffer. He deserved it. There was no doubt in my mind when it came to Avriel that the world would be better off without him.
Draven staggered to the bridge. For a moment, I thought he was going to fall over the side. I gripped the rail so hard my hands hurt. I reveled in the discomfort. A miniscule version of the pain Draven must have been in.
Selwyn was guarding Draven’s back, blocking the bridge, as he watched Avriel struggle to gain his footing. I watched as Selwyn drew the heavy ax from his back and held it at the ready.
Meanwhile, Draven was following Lyrastra slowly across the bridge.
They had nearly reached the midway point.
