Page 156 of A War of Three Kings

Two guards charge at us, and we cut them down easily while the rest flee around us. The poor bastards don’t realize they are racing straight for the mob.

I glance at my loyal warriors. “Use the trees outside to barricade this doorway.” I don’t turn back as the creak and groan of branches rapidly growing, moving and interweaving fills the room. I know there will be a thick, woody wall at my back.

I stalk toward the mad king, my sword pointed at him from across the hall, and he cowers back multiple steps, taking Keira with him. “I will kill her if you come any closer!” Finan’s voice is high-pitched and his eyes dart wildly. “Know that I will.”

I halt, tipping my head to the side. “And you thought you were worthy of marrying her?”

I thrust my power into him, running it up every limb and hooking it into each muscle, taking away his control over his own body. I move the hand clutching the blade away from Keira’s throat, opening his fingers until the dagger clatters to the ground, then pry the other off her stomach. The coward’s muscles shake like leaves in the wind.

He doesn’t even try to fight me.

Keira slips out of his grasp, then she is running, closing the space between us and slamming straight into my arms. I wrap her in the tightest embrace, kissing the top of her head as a sob leaves her. It feels so damn good to have her here.So right, like the pieces of my soul have finally been knitted back together.

With Keira tucked under my arm, I stalk toward Finan until I stand over him menacingly. Close enough that I can smell the sandalwood of the oils he uses to curl his hair. His colorless lips quiver, and his eyes are wide, the pupils completely dilated as he stares up at me. The only part of his body still in his control is his face.

“Please,” the mad king whispers. “Please.”

I send a pulse of magic into the arm that dared to put a blade to Keira’s throat, twitching the muscle and twisting it hard. The bone snaps audibly and he lets out a high-pitched wail.

“I should torture you for what you have done to Keira,” I snarl. “If you have laid a single finger on her, if you forced yourself on her, I will snap your limbs one by one, twist back every finger and toe, until I finally break your spine.”

“I never touched her!” Finan shrieks between sobs, tears running down his face. “She never let me.”

I glance down at Keira, and she nods, though I feel the shudder that runs through her.

“But you have.” I lean down until I am right in his face, eye to eye with the small man. “I have seen the bruises you put on her. Felt the pain you inflicted with your blows to her head. For that alone, you must pay.”

With an air wield, I pick up the king’s knife and float it upward to Keira, the hilt presented to her. “You should be the one to end the life of your tormentor,” I say softly.

“Aldrin.” Cyprien’s voice is low. “You need to hurry. The mob is almost on us.”

I glance at where the blood-hungry humans are visible through the small gaps in the barricade. They race down the corridor and collide with the wall of branches, hacking at it with their weapons, while my people call upon more trees to fight back.

Keira takes the blade in her hand, spinning it as she considers Finan, taking a step toward him and out of my embrace.

The look he gives her is utterly wounded. “Did I not give you everything a woman could want?”

“No.” She presses the blade against his cheek, leaning in close. “You took everything away from me. My voice. My agency. The life I had built. My home, now ravaged by your army. You. Took. Everything.”

Keira glances up to the side of the dais, where I notice Diarmuid for the first time. Caitlin is busy cutting loose her brother’s bonds, and the king’s druid adviser stands behind them.

In the corridor behind us, the angry roar of the mob grows louder as more join the fight against the trees and are tossed outthe windows. The problem is that more humans keep arriving to bolster their numbers.

“This is making me very nervous,” Drake growls as he and the others hold the doorway. “I don’t want to needlessly kill these humans.”

“Please have mercy,” Finan whimpers.

“Mercy?” Keira pulls the blade away from his cheek, and it leaves a thin gash down his face. “Mercy? You don’t deserve mercy for what you have done. How many people have died for your selfishness? How many are traumatized by the brutality of war because you couldn’t take no for an answer?”

Finan’s brows crease, as though the thoughts only just occurred to him. Keira continues her tirade.

“But I will give you mercy, Finan. I won’t allow you to be torn apart by an angry mob.”

She places her hand on his cheek. It would almost seem like a gentle, loving caress, one that would make me jealous, if her other hand didn’t entwine with mine, drawing on my reservoir of raw power to feed the weaves of autumn magic she threads through him. Keira’s wield creeps across his skin and penetrates his blood, until her claws are in every part of him.

Then she unleashes her power of decay.

In one heartbeat, Finan is whole, and in the next, hairline cracks form across his exposed skin. He blinks, lips parting and preparing to scream as pieces of ash float away from his face—then his entire form ruptures.

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