Page 85 of This Cruel Fate

Sel, she didn’t have the energy for this. She had made it; the job was hers. Atlas brought his hand back and curled it into a fist. How stupid she had been, to think Atlas would let her win. Nothing between them could ever be so easy. Xolia was preparing for sudden and brutal pain, but it never came.

Adonis pulled Atlas off her, and his hand lit up in a blaze of red flame. He punched Atlas across the jaw. Atlas yelped and shied away from Adonis. Xolia got to her feet, ready for Atlas to launch another assault.

Guards stormed into the room while senators yelled. Both generals were shouting conflicting orders at the guard, sending the room into further chaos. Meanwhile, Adonis and Atlas connected again, Atlas pushing Adonis back with large torrents of air. Adonis, while agile, was strong and able to hold his own better than most. When Atlas’s attack died down, Adonis would launch his offensive and the two would throw punches and block before Atlas pushed him back again.

Xolia ran to General DuBois. “We need to secure the palace. Get General Perrin and Atlas arrested.” If they could secure the palace, they would have the upper hand.

Something slammed into Xolia’s back. She pitched forward, but General DuBois was quick enough to catch her. She turned around to find the senator who hated the idea of a variant chancellor.

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened, maybe in shock that she was still standing. His act of violence would mean nothing. Hatred poured out of Xolia. She groaned through the searing pain and saw the long knife that came standard on every Palace guard piercing through her ribcage. He must have slipped it from one of the fallen men in the chaos.

Xolia pulled her blood to her arm, pushing it against the confines of her skin until she formed a blade of her own. It pulsed with the frantic beat of her heart, and she relished that the man’s eyes grew even larger, practically popping out of their sockets.

She removed his head from his shoulders and groaned again as his body fell limp against the ground. He had managed to get the knife deep between her ribs, and she was sure one of her lungs was punctured. Without medical care, she could expect hours of coughing up blood while her body healed and purged itself.

“Chancellor Stone,” General DuBois said. He gripped her arm, and she let her blood sink back into her body. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Not until Atlas is gone,” she said. Violent coughs wracked her body, and sure enough, blood spilled over her lips. She wiped it away and focused on staying upright.

“I can call in a team that I know is loyal to me,” General DuBois said, his brows furrowed at the carnage unfolding around them. He pushed Xolia behind one of the fallen solid oak seats and crouched. “We can’t trust anyone else. Not until we find out who is loyal to General Perrin.”

She breathed shakily. “See that it’s done.”

General DuBois nodded. He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call. Xolia coughed again. More blood. If she could just close her eyes for a moment. . .Xolia jerked her head back up.

Adonis was flung against the wall, his head bouncing against the stone, and his body crumpled to the floor. Isiah ran for Atlas, already shooting, but his bullets were unsuccessful in hitting him.

If Xolia was exhausted, Atlas had to be wearing thin too. She only had to last long enough for General DuBois’s team to make it to the palace.

Xolia took a deep breath, as deep as she could with blood steadily filling a lung. She thought about the pain of cutting off her own hand—the anger and panic that had overwhelmed her on the podium—and smoothed it over with the reminder that she’d already won. She just had to last longer than Atlas. She clenched her hands into fists, visualizing the flow of water forming into blades. At first, nothing happened.

Then water poured from her palms, crystalizing and lengthening into twin blades. She stifled a cough and charged at Atlas.

He was unprepared for her assault and barely managed to avoid getting skewered. He pushed at her with wind, but it lacked conviction. She planted her feet and leaned forward.

She pushed forward again, this time forcing Atlas to reach out and pull ancient granite from the wall to act as a shield. An act of sacrilege.

Xolia charged and swung, keeping him on the defensive. Over and over again. He smashed the stone against her left wrist, shattering bone and her blade. Xolia tucked the broken arm to her chest and continued forward with her right hand.

Swing.

Block.

Repeat.

One well-aimed cut at his chest forced him to drop the rock to the ground. Atlas stumbled over a body.

Xolia let her blade disappear, overtaken by the sheer amount of energy that she had used up. She was running on the fumes of adrenaline. The general’s people better get here soon.

Supine, Atlas could do no more than look up at Xolia. She planted a foot on his chest, breathing hard as she struggled to speak.

She held her thumb to her forehead and ran it down her face and then across her throat. “I am the Selermine. I am the leader of the variants. I am the leader of all. Not you. Not the Underlings. You will all fall in line.”

“I will die before I follow you,” Atlas ground out, pulling a gun from the fallen guard and slamming the butt of it against her ankle. She fell to the ground at the same time an explosion broke through the wall of the Senate Hall.

Despite the shock, her body seized. Was it another terrorist attack on top of everything else? More armed guards stormed the area, and Atlas, holding his hands to his ears, got to his feet and ran.

Xolia choked on another mouthful of blood and turned onto her stomach to spit it all out. She laid her head on the ground; it was wet and sticky with her blood, but she hardly cared. There was no more strength in her. She closed her eyes.

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