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Warm, bright magic answered. Healing magic, rising to the surface as if it had been dormant in his blood.
He had no idea how to use it, how to do anything other than will it with a simple Save him.
In answer, light poured from his hands, and he could feel Tharion’s flesh and bone knitting back together beneath his fingers, mending, healing …
It had been a clean shot through the chest and out the back. And this new healing magic seemed to know what to do, how to close both entry and exit wounds. It couldn’t replace the blood, but if Ketos was no longer leaking … he might survive.
A shudder rocked the palace, and time slowed.
For a heartbeat, Ruhn thought it might be his own power, but no. He’d felt this before. Just a short time ago, when the world had rippled with what he knew, deep in his bones, was the impact of an Asteri dying. Like an Archangel’s death, but worse.
Another Asteri must be going down.
He willed that lovely, bright power to keep healing Ketos, though. To use the stretch of time to buy more of it for the mer, to heal, heal, heal—
It was eternity, and yet it was nothing. Time resumed, so fast that the boys lost their grip on Tharion, but the wound had healed over. Ruhn grunted as he hoisted the unconscious mer over a shoulder and said to the boys, “We gotta get out of here.”
Half of him wanted to dump the twins somewhere safe and race to wherever Lidia was, but his mate had asked him to protect the two most precious people in her world.
He wouldn’t break a gesture of trust so great. Not for anything.
They tore through the palace, its halls eerily empty. People must have gotten the evacuation order and fled. The guards had even left their stations at the doors and the front gates.
Ruhn and the boys made it into the city streets, and Ruhn reached for his phone to dial Flynn, praying the male had the van nearby. Only then did he get a look at the battlefield beyond the city. The cloud of darkness above the glowing lights.
That darkness was pure Pit. Fires blazed on the other side of the field—that had to be Lidia.
“Ruhn!” He knew that voice.
He turned, Tharion a limp weight on his shoulder, and found Ithan Holstrom sprinting toward them, a rifle over his shoulder.
He knew that rifle, too. The Godslayer Rifle.
Ithan’s face was splattered with dirt and blood, like he’d fought his way up here. “Is Ketos alive?” At Ruhn’s nod, Ithan asked, “Where’s Bryce?”
As if in answer, light flared from the palace above and behind them.
Ruhn’s blood turned to ice. “We told her and Athalar to meet us. But it was a trap … fuck.”
“I need to get to Bryce,” Ithan said urgently.
Ruhn pointed to the palace, and couldn’t find the words, any words, to say that the wolf might already be too late.
Ace and Brann looked up at him, at the palace, at the battlefield.
His charges. His to protect through the storm.
“Run,” Ruhn told Ithan, and motioned to the twins. “Keep close, and follow my lead.”
95
Bryce’s breath sawed through her lungs, but she gave herself over to it. To the wind and movement and propulsion of herself and Hunt through the small space as Rigelus launched strike after strike.
She was not the scared female she’d been a week ago, running from him down the hall. She knew Theia’s star gave her enough of an edge to keep one step ahead of Rigelus as she teleported again and again and again.
They just had to deactivate the core, and then she’d take the sword and knife and go after the Asteri. One by one.
Hunt’s lightning slammed continuously into the floor. But she and Hunt kept moving, so fast that one boom hadn’t finished sounding before another began. The sound was monstrous, all-consuming, and the room rained stone and crystal.
