Page 115 of Vicious Is My Throne

“Just…we never came up with a definitive escape plan. When the ward drops, we can’t stay here. We should head north of the mountains where the blight hasn’t taken hold. Find some place to hole up.”

I slid him a sideways look. “Corvus is north of the mountains.”

“I know.”

“That really doesn’t make me feel any better,” I muttered, raising my hands again, fingertips grazing the blue glow, the scent of freshly struck lightning stinging my nose. “We should go back to the Wynter Palace. At least we know it’s safe.”

Power rushed through my hands and into my arms, pulsing. Ancient. Awful.

My magic reached out in response, shadow and light tangling lightly, like testing out some tentative agreement.

Everywhere the two touched, a bright blue flame danced.

I closed my eyes. The ward was calling my name, ready to sweep me away in a rush of endless, infinite magic, and when this ward fell…that cold rush of power would devour everything like before.

I panted. Quick little breaths. Not just because of the magic.

But because of what came next.

“I’m not ready to face Corvus. We don’t have the pendant; we don’t know what the stones can do. We aren’t ready, not yet.” I pulled my hands away, dropping them at my sides.

“Once the wall falls, she’ll come,” he warned in a low voice. “If she takes all your magic, none of this will matter. Not the stones or the weapon or anything we’ve done. Nothing will matter because she’ll have all the power, and you will be left with nothing.”

In a way, those words were a balm to my tired soul. To relinquish this terrible power, this responsibility, the fate all our lives balanced on…would be a fucking blessing. I was tired of carrying this weight, tired of plodding along this path with no end.

“I’m not ready,” I repeated. But did that even matter?

Was anyone ever ready? Had Torin been ready to become High Seer? Had my ancestor been ready to give her life to forge the weapon? No.

“Brace yourselves,” I warned. “And remember, stay behind the shield, no matter what happens, Raz won’t let it fail.”

I pressed my palms against the ward, my magic crashing through the ancient wall. Cold, crippling power assaulted me in return.

I yielded my magic to the wall, but the wall yielded to me, cold starlight flowing and melding together into a supernova of pale-blue power spreading through the forest. I lifted my hands, stars glittering at the ends of my fingers, hoarfrost crackling up my arms in patterns too delicate to trace.

My shadows spilled over with the galaxy of a million stars, light glittering all around us, turning Raz’s dark eyes into constellations, settling into Tavion’s silver hair, dusting over Tristan’s golden skin. Bexley lifted his hands, dredging his fingers through the magic, thick enough he left trails in the air around us, the dark stone in his ring glowing softly.

“Glorious,” he muttered. “I doubt I’ll ever see anything like this again.”

“Get everyone down and under cover,” I told Raz to the sound of Tristan’s grumble of protest. He’d begged to be in the air when I dropped the ward since he’d missed this part last time, but he’d been outvoted. They’d all insisted on coming with me this morning and this was my only stipulation.

They’d remain beneath a shield of Raz’s and my magic, as protected as we could keep them, because I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Give her some room.” Tristan tugged a dazed Bexley back toward a clear space between the trees. “You’ll be able to gawk well enough from over here.”

“I thought I knew what to expect after Caladrius, but this is…” Bexley blinked. “Will the wave go both ways given there’s nothing to stop it in either direction?” I could see the wheels turning from here. “Anaria, if all this magic collides with the blight, that corrupted area could explode and take over everything at a pace too fast for us—for anyone—to escape.”

I dropped my hands. Again.

Was that the Oracle’s end game?

To use us to cause the end of the world?

But I had to finish this.

I blew out a breath, told myself I was right, and slammed both palms into the ward, hard as a wall of ice. Shimmering blue power thundered both ways down the wall, the sound roaring through the forest, crushed leaves and broken branches raining down.

One glance showed everyone hunched together, Bex in the center, beneath a dome of Raziel’s magic. Larger limbs crashed down, hitting the shield with an earsplitting crack.

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