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Those stalking toward her broke into a run. Magic flew from both sides, colliding in a thunderous stream of blades and battle cries. She didn’t move, watching in horror as blades pierced flesh and her comrades went down one after the other. Her heart beat faster, faster, faster.
Talon spun and danced through their enemies, swinging his sword in a high arch to behead one of the Shadow Weavers. He was targeting those from Fiadh first. Two guards stood at her side, ready to intervene should anyone get too close.
Talon ducked, then those shadows reached out and slammed into his chest. Smoke coiled from his leather armor, but her friend barely seemed to notice as he launched ice across the ground. His opponent tripped, distracting him long enough for Talon to sink his blade into the male’s chest.
Then Rion desperately pulled on the bond, yearning for some confirmation that she was okay. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t convince her body to move, even with the twin blades in her hands.
There was so much blood and magic and her comrades were falling and the males were bathing in their triumph with each kill and the smells and flickering lights and her pounding heart and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—
“Such a prize traveling out in the open.” The voice came from her right and the two guards at her side pivoted to place their bodies between the male and their queen. Not just a male, but five others, all with fire and shadows and—Arianna swallowed hard. Chains. Those were chains in his hands.
He glanced toward Talon and frowned. “You know, I’d really hate to kill you all.” Ice coated her veins. Not bandits. Slavers. But . . . but they weren’t half-breeds or humans. They were Fae and—and this male didn’t care. They’d enslave the queen and show the continent that even she could be subdued. That slavery wouldn’t end no matter who stood in their way.
Her mouth was suddenly dry and her body rooted in place with gruesome memories. Cold iron grating against her raw wrists. Long winter months with little more than rags to keep her warm. Fellow slaves starving to death. Blood caked to her back from the lashings she had received. The way they’d stung as she was forced to work through the pain.
Somewhere in a distant part of her mind, someone tried to yank her free of those memories. They told her they were coming. To hold on. To fight.
Talon’s voice rang through her, but he seemed so far away. So far . . .
Her breath came faster and faster and Arianna thought she might have a lead weight on her chest, suffocating her, gripping her lungs so tight it might as well have been an iron shackle.
The male prowled forward, those chains clanking together. Someone moved from her left then her right, but the shadows swallowed them whole along with their screams.
Someone was still beating against her mind, over and over as if trying to break through a wall. But she couldn’t find him, couldn’t reach no matter how much she wanted to.
The five stepped forward, closing in, then three icy shards shot from her left and buried themselves deep in the male’s chest. She barely drew a breath, watching as they fell to their knees and the remaining two snarled.
No. No, please not again. She couldn’t do this again. She didn’t want to watch the people she loved suffer as she’d suffered. She couldn’t—she couldn’t—
Please, please, please, please.
Arianna curled into herself.
Someone, please, someone.
A crack.
Another.
Then she looked up. Blood dripped from the male she’d healed, his arm wounded again from a blade he’d caught. Not dead. Not engulfed by shadow.
Crack.
He fought. He was a warrior. A guard. And he fought.
Eoghan had fought.
Talon was still fighting.
She needed—
The clashing came louder.
She needed—
Her vision cleared to find the male with the chains drawing closer.
She needed—
