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The knife in my boot was small, but razor-sharp.
One slice across my throat and I could end this.
Torin said it herself. If I died, the magic would go back into the ground. And that was exactly where this awful power should be.
Zor scooped a bent-up practice sword off the ground and sliced the dull blade through the air, flanking Solok as Tavion climbed shakily to his feet—all four of them—claws digging deep into the ground before he launched himself at the Axe.
Fools.
They were fools not to flee and save themselves.
I couldn’t stop Solok from knocking Tavion out of the air like a fly. The wolf lurched to his feet, one paw up off ground, blood matting his side. Then foundered onto his side, only his eyes moving, watching my every move.
Zorander’s perfect sword strike didn’t land, because the Axe vanished, then reappeared behind Zor, grasping his head in both hands and twisting hard before I screamed a warning.
The life-ending crack I expected never came, because impossibly, Raz heaved himself across the scant ten feet separating them and sloppily blocked Solok with his good shoulder. They crashed to the ground, all three tangled together in a mess of arms and legs. Raz didn’t move at all, and while Zor fought to push himself upright, he collapsed from the effort.
My heart stuttered when Solok was the only one who rose from the carnage, brushed dirt from his armor and bared his bloodstained teeth in a leering, grotesque smile.
“I cannot wait to get you back to Tempeste, little thief. You and I shall have so much fun together.” He tipped his head sideways, his ravening gaze drifted to Raz’s broken body. “Shall I bring the slave with us? He would be an interesting addition to our games.”
I could barely breath at the sheer anticipation in his face, my hands curling into fists. “My guess is, you would do anything to keep me from hurting him. And since he would do anything to protect you…” Solok’s gleaming smile revealed deadly teeth.
“What delicious games we shall play, Anaria.”
Raziel groaned, his fingers clawing at the dirt as he dragged himself toward me. Somehow, he gathered enough strength to tip his head up, to meet my gaze.
“I treasured every moment we had together.” I said in farewell, then stepped between him and the Axe. He would not get through me. He would not harm my friends.
Not as long as I lived.
“Touch him and I’ll kill you.” Tavion echoed my threat with a deep, rumbling growl, but stayed down, tongue lolling from his mouth.
I yanked the knife from my boot, curled my fingers around the hilt, braced my feet in the dirt like they’d trained me and met Solok’s amused smile. “Let’s see how tough you are when I’m not chained down to a fucking table.”
“You never fail to amuse.” Solok smirked and pulled two deadly, curved knives from his sheaths. He spun them with expert ease, blades glinting in the residue of starry magic still scattered among the trees. “Come, then. Show me how much you’ve learned from these useless vermin, little thief.”
“I’ll show you what I learned from you.” I pretended to inspect the tip of my tiny, useless knife, then plunged the tip deep into my thigh.
The forest, Solok, everything disappeared in a blaze of light, bright enough to wipe everything away, every thought, all my fears and pain forgotten, until only this devouring power remained, and I ceased to exist.
For weeks this power had grown and grown and grown, a dark, terrible symphony that stretched within me, past me, encompassing my entire existence in a sea of shadow and stars.
But this onslaught was beyond anything I’d ever imagined, beyond whatever existed in this realm or the next, drowning me in stardust and consuming darkness.
When my vision cleared, I sank into my body to find Solok frozen in place, mouth gaping, his eyes gleaming with fear.
I gobbled his terror down like the finest wine, glutted myself on his fear.
Then sent another wave crashing toward him.
58
ANARIA
My heart burst from the force of this consuming power, fear turning to frozen rage, sharp and clean enough to cut through the veil between realms. Sharp enough to shove Solok against a ravaged tree trunk, to drag invisible claws down his face, leaving a trail of black that sprouted thorns.
“Anaria.” Zor’s command broke through the fog clouding my head. “Stop.”
