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“No,” I snap, “but you are, which means my friends are in trouble by association. I’m here to save their lives.”
A muscle jumps in Valerian’s temple. “Explain.”
Ugh. I hate the coldness in his voice. His demanding tone. He might not have participated in Inara’s cruel trick, but he let two months pass without telling me the truth. Two whole months where my heart felt cracked in half. Where he let my feelings for him burn into a sick, twisted hatred.
My sudden fury propels me toward him. I slam a finger into his chest—probably hurting myself more than anyone—and glare up at him. “No, you explain.” I poke him again. “Explain why you never told me the truth. Why you let me drown in hurt when you promised to always protect me.”
His hand reaches up, his cool fingers circling my forearm, where his brand scrolls over my flesh. Gently, his fingers slide to my wrist and he tugs my hand down. “I promised to keep you safe from harm. To protect you no matter the price. That’s exactly what I did.”
His stoic answer only serves to piss me off.
“Safe from harm?” I snap. “You broke my fucking heart.”
The silence that follows is almost worse than the apathy in his voice.
Ruby flutters above the prince’s head. “Kid,” she says. “As much as I enjoy watching this public flaying, and I do—I really, really do. I have to wonder if we really have time for this?”
“You’re right.” Crossing my arms, I glance up at her and then to the others. “But when this is over, if we survive, I need to know the truth. All of it.”
Valerian goes very still. He looks to Eclipsa then back to me. “Fair enough. Now, why are you here?”
57
The darklings arrive with the rain. I’ve told the others everything I learned, along with the changeling glamouring me into revealing Valerian’s name. Eclipsa raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t say a word.
I glance at the dark shapes flickering through the dead trees like shadows. Their hisses mix with the soft pattering of rain to form an eerie chorus. The thought that they were once humans weighs heavy on my mind.
Could Aunt Zinnia’s daughter be here? Aunt Vi’s family?
There are so many missing humans, any one of which could be the deranged creatures lurking in the trees beyond.
We’re spread out in a circle, Ruby above. Only the prince’s magic has been bound, but you’d never know it by the confident way he holds his broadsword.
Mack is to my right. I’ve never been more proud of my friend as she grips her rapier with unshaking hands. Ready to die to protect her keeper and her friends. But my bow has to be the coolest weapon of all. The wood is baby-smooth inside my palms as I retrieve an arrow from my quiver, pinch the shaft between my thumb and pointer finger, and pull the string taut.
Through the crashing roar of my heart, I swear distant whispers pulse from the weapon.
The darklings descend all at once. Almost as if on a command. They streak across the meadow so fast they’re mere flickers. I release an arrow. Nerves throw off my aim, but the magic inside the arrow veers it into my target. Grinning, I release another. Then another. My movements impossibly fast.
Each arrow hits its mark effortlessly.
The other’s fight just as hard. Mack’s rapier cleaves the air as she pushes back the attack. Despite the darkling’s speed, Mack makes contact again and again. But her sword is steel, not iron, and the darklings she hits rise over and over.
It’s like some horrible dream where the bad guy doesn’t die, just grows stronger.
Ruby uses some sort of confusion spell to make the darklings spin in circles like dogs chasing their tails. But that spell doesn’t last long. Next, she sends a swarm of magical butterflies into the group. The darklings hiss and swat at the insects before refocusing on us. A huge explosion of flame bursts across the meadow, illuminating the hundreds of darklings on the field.
Asher! A quick glance and . . . holy freaking crap. He’s shifted into his dragon form.
Gasping, I barely rip my gaze from the sight of the enormous gray and green scaled dragon, his black-tipped gray wings outspread as they flap once, twice, propelling him into the sky. The gusts from his wings send darklings flying.
I watch, both petrified and in awe, as roiling swathes of fire surge from his mouth, the gray smoke choking the air.
Countless darklings catch on fire. They screech in pain. But even as living torches, they keep coming.
Only iron can kill them. Only I can kill them.
A group of darklings rush toward the prince. With a wild yell, Eclipsa and her twin blades fall on the writhing mass of creatures. Bright stars of magic bloom between the fray as she hits them with her powers, sending the wave receding.
