AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Royad gives a dip of his chin before he swings his sword at the nearest Fire Fairy, slicing off the head before moving on to the next one while Clio sends splinters of ice flying across the room, making new fires blow up in steam before they can spread and take lives. Myron’s magic rushes back to him, focusing on only Ephegos as he takes one slow step after the other. New Flames have rushed to his side, fostering a circle of fire around the three of them that melts Clio’s attempts at stopping the Crow.
Everyone seems to be fighting, useful. Everyone but me, whose magic is failing as the lake is collecting around me, its glistening texture making it hard to hide and its density making it hard to move. I’m a living, breathing target, held in place by my own magic—or the lack of it as my strength leaves me little by little.
“Get out of here,” Myron shouts, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes. Bruises of exhaustion mar the pale skin beneath. He’s fighting, but he’s coming to his limits as well.
And Ephegos hasn’t even truly attacked. All he’s done is march up a set of stairs.
I want to tell Myron that I can’t leave, that my lake won’t let me, but I remember that the lake isn’t the only water I can wield. Clio is creating ice out of thin air, however she does it. But I don’t need to. The chips of ice have turned into steam in the air and puddles on the stone, ready for the taking. So, I take. I take with all the force of a vengeful bride as I summon the water to my fingertips. No one heeds it a look as it rises from the floor to weave into strings and spheres, which wander through the gaps of the battle until it reaches the balcony where it rolls and coils in front of me, building, larger and stronger, until it becomes a cluster of waves at my disposal.
With boneless arms, I shape and build the water into weapons, but wielding this water doesn’t cost me half as much strength as the murderous lake does. It might not be as deadly either, but I don’t care as long as I get to douse those flames protecting Ephegos. Once he makes it to the top of the stairs, Myron will have to fight with a blade to protect himself, and the fire will put him at a disadvantage.
My stomach is so tight I could throw up, and my heart is no longer contained in my chest. It’s beating in my throat, pounding in my ears, pulsing in my palms, a constant reminder of how close to outmatched we are even with Royad and Clio’s aid. I’m vaguely aware of the group of Crows that has followed them into the room, their feathers not yet singed and their strikes fresher and more forceful than those of the left-over Crows who’ve been dodging fire and swords from the beginning. It has to be enough. Please, let it be enough.
The first wave of my magic breaks a clean gap into the flames surrounding Ephegos while I collect more water to strike again. By the way the lake quivers around me, I can tell it’s not amused that I’ve taken initiative and am fighting without it.
It had better get used to it because I’m here, and I won’t stand idly while I still have a spark left in me.
“I can’t hold him off much longer,” Myron tells me as Ephegos and the Flames push up another two steps. He’s noticed the segment of the fire circle I’ve extinguished—of course, he has—but he also notices my struggle. “Leave before it’s too late.”
I don’t know where he imagines I’d be going even if I agreed to leave. There is no way out of here. The stairs are blocked by the approaching traitor of a resurrected Crow, and we’re too far up to escape through the windows. I’ve never had enough freedom in this palace to explore for secret passages or servant corridors or hidden stairwells. He might be able to simply shift and soar from a windowsill, but I’d plunge to my death.
His gaze meets mine for a moment before it shifts to the dark corner at the end of the hall. Horror fills his features, and I think I see a flicker of orange and red in the dark mirrors that are his eyes.
“No!” His voice tears through me like thunder and lightning a moment before a surge of heat hits my back, shoving me to the ground.
With a gasp, I crash into the slate gray rock, the impact knocking the breath out of me despite the way the lake cushions my fall. A cloud of steam rises from my back where the fire is trying to eat at my form, but my armor of water is thick enough to protect me—at least until it becomes hot enough to reach boiling temperature, and I scream.
The sound hangs in the air for a heartbeat during which all I can do is lift my eyes at Myron for aid.
He’s right there, one taloned hand reaching for me while the other is warding off Ephegos and the Flames.
“Get up, Ayna.” The command in his voice has me fighting the ache in my flesh. All I can think is that, if I survive this, I’ll say a long and thorough prayer to Eroth and the Guardians. If Myron survives it, too, I’ll even make a sacrifice to those horrible gods of Myron’s homeland.
With a groan, I slide my hand toward his. My palm is slick with sweat, not water. The water has been retreating from around my body, the armor unweaving like it realized it had become a conduit for the punishing heat. Instead, it’s formed a wall behind me, blocking out the Fire Fairy who dared sneak up on me.
A glance over my shoulder tells me that there is no one left to block out. The fairy’s body lies twisted on the floor, and judging by the look in Myron’s eyes when I turn back to him, I know his power broke the creature’s neck.
“Royad and the princess can hold them off only so long, Ayna?—”
“I’m not leaving without you,” I cut him off, but we both know neither of us is leaving this palace alive. Down in the entrance hall, the battle has slowed, and even Clio’s ice magic has become sluggish against the fires, which keep flaring at every angle as if they have a life of their own. For every Flame we take down, a new one seems to appear from the shadows and alcoves beyond where the light can reach.
I allow him to pull me to my feet while my free hand is already reaching for the water I whipped through the hallways. It answers my call, but the lake remains a solid wall behind us, blocking out any attacker coming up from above us.
But the danger is no longer there. It’s in front of us.
So quick I barely see it, Ephegos breaks free from the formation, darting past Myron as he bends to pull me up. It happens so fast that all I can do is shout my warning and throw myself at Myron to shove him out of harm’s way as Ephegos’s slender blade stabs at Myron. The pain is sharp and brief before shock sets in and I lose my grasp on my magic. Water drops around me like shattering stars where it’s released from my hold, and as I meet Ephegos’s all-black eyes, a twinge of pain mirrors there as if it hurts him to see me tumble back to the ground, one hand clutching my side where he slashed me with his blade while my other hand still clutches Myron’s winged arm.
“Ayna!” His voice is full of fury and agony; I can’t tell which one supersedes the other as he flips back to his feet then drops to his knees at my side.
“I hate to see you die, Ayna,” Ephegos says with a smirk that makes it hard to believe he isn’t enjoying every last moment of my suffering. “I quite liked you, to be honest. What a pity. You would have made for a great bride had Myron died first.”
The ire on Myron’s face is nothing compared to the searing pain in my side. It spreads along my ribs all the way to my chest as if the wound isn’t merely superficial but deep enough to have speared organs.
In Myron’s eyes, darkness so intense is gleaming that I swear I can see the outline of stars sparkling in their vengeful depths as he turns his gaze on Ephegos.
“What have you done?” The low and cold tone is even worse than the burning hot rage rolling off him.
Ephegos stumbles back a step. It’s all I see before my vision starts going blurry.
