Page 144 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Raz.” I tried to wiggle free. “Raz?”

He grunted, then Tavion rolled him off me.

We were inside a bubble—like the one the Oracle had conjured—the magical storm streaming past in a blur of lightning-flecked shadow, faster than anything should be able to move.

“Heal him.” Tavion gently rolled Raz onto his belly, baring his teeth at the astrologer. “This was your godsdamned idea. Fucking heal him.”

Oh gods. The magic had shredded Raziel’s back, his skin covered in long, deep gashes and blistering burns, steam still rising from what remained of his clothes.

“Move.” Cosimo shoved up beside Tavion and light poured from his hands, rushing over Raziel’s torn skin. Flesh knit together faster than I’d ever seen and burned skin turned smooth. Raz’s eyes fluttered open, clear of pain.

I rocked back on my heels as outside the dome of magic a new world was reborn.

59

ZORANDER

Itied the strip of fabric tighter over my nose and mouth to keep out the dust, but all I tasted was dirt. “Don’t let them stop,” I ordered, squinting over my shoulder at the still-intact wall of magic, waiting for the inevitable.

Moving ten thousand soldiers—most of whom didn’t want to listen, especially not to their disgraced former commander—to safety was daunting. Some had remained around their campfires, cursing me for a traitor, swearing allegiance to their dead king.

But most obeyed, steadily marching east in haphazard lines.

I’d found three of my loyal commanders—the ones Crux hadn’t executed—who’d ridden ahead to spread the word. We only had an hour, but even putting a mile between these men and whatever magic Anaria conjured up might save some of them.

Raziel and I never told her what happened to the unfortunate Fae caught in that black wave in Caladrius. But now…I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder.

“Keep moving. Don’t stop, no matter what happens,” I urged the nervous soldiers trudging eastward. Grunts used to following orders. I hoped my orders would keep them alive.

“Where are we heading, General?” one of them finally asked, eyes shifting between me and his friends. “There’s nothing out there except the flatlands.”

“As far away from the wall as we can get,” I told him tersely. Too much information and they’d panic, so I gave them just enough to keep them moving. We’d been marching long enough we’d put two miles between us and the portal.

Enough that when the wave came they might survive the crushing force of it.

We felt the wall collapse before we heard it, a sudden shift in the wind, then a wave of pure power roared overhead, tearing at my hair, dragging away the dust and flattening soldiers and horses alike to the ground. I ripped the fabric away from my face and smelled nothing but spent magic.

Oh gods, Anaria had done it.

Soldiers climbed unsteadily to their feet, looked back, and started running.

Fear burned through me like a brand as they thundered past, boots digging into the dry dirt as they tried to outrun what was coming. I peered at the wall—and couldn’t allow myself to imagine what Anaria was enduring.

If she was even still alive.

Because the storm racing toward us over the flatlands…

“Keep your heads down,” I shouted hoarsely, motioning for those who were too far away to hear but could see me in the now-clear air. “This isn’t over.”

I couldn’t stop my gasp when the ward rippled in both directions like a torn curtain flapping in the wind, a deep, grinding groan crawling across the flatlands as the ancient wall between the realms ripped wide open.

“Down,” I screamed for whomever was still listening. “Do not run. Stay in place.”

I threw myself on the ground hard enough to drive the air from my lungs, pulling the cloth back over my mouth.

The next wave of air tasted different, like I’d stepped into an ancient woodland, and…I lifted my face and closed my eyes. I smiled when I caught the faintest hint of jasmine and amber.

Anaria.

---