Page 110 of The Witch Queen

Silene quickly dispenses of the rebels who fell, slicing their throats with brutal efficiency. Despite our quick scrambling, we lose sight of the rest of their contingent and are forced to stop to regroup in a small clearing of trees.

“They’re gone. Let’s cut our losses and get the people back there to safety. We did what we set out to do by forcing them to run,” I say, but Laurel growls in frustration.

“We need to find them and take them out!” she hisses through gritted teeth.

I’m about to reassure her we’ll search for them tomorrow, when arrows fly toward us. One catches me deep in the thigh, but I barely feel it as I race to cover Laurel with my body. I’m struck in the shoulder and in my lower back before Laurel’s magic wipes out the arrows still flying and the archers with one blood-curdling shriek. I grunt in pain before standing and helping Laurel up.

Fionn and Silene have both also been struck, though the arrows seem to have only skimmed across their flesh. Laurel’s okay, and that releases some of the tension coursing through my veins. I rip out the three arrows, hissing in pain and realizing the actual tips remain inside my flesh, then stalk toward Fionn to heal him. When I hold my hand against the wound on his outer arm, I can’t feel the magic rise to my call. I realize my access to the aether has diminished. I try to conjure light, but it sputters.

“Iron arrows,” Fionn hisses before walking away to survey Silene’s injured arm.

Laurel growls behind me, the sound animalistic and so unlike her, and I turn to see a group of fae led by none other than Krantz advancing toward us with weapons and magic. Laurel aersteps to my side, bringing Silene and Fionn to us in the same movement. Her eyes rove over the wounds on my shoulder and thigh, and she bares her teeth, a low hiss coming from deep in her throat. Her eyes are pure black, filled with a feral rage, and I understand. Had our roles been reversed, and she was the one losing blood right now, I’d be lost in the primal urge of the mating bond.

As Krantz and his group of dozens of fae surround us, Laurel replaces my light shield with her own. It’s so thick it lights up the entire canyon around us, as if it’s daytime. Weapons and magic slam into it, but it doesn’t budge. She tries to heal the wound on my shoulder, but it won’t work until the iron barb has been removed. She roars out in frustration, completely lost to the fury incited by an injured mate.

“I’m okay,” I soothe, trying to break through the animal-like rage that’s consumed her. “Let’s aerstep away and focus on helping the valley.” She makes a low gravelly noise and only shakes her head.

“Krantz,” she growls, and I know we won’t be able to convince her to leave when she has the opportunity to take him out.

“I’ve got him, queenie,” Fionn says, wrapping his good shoulder around mine to support my sagging weight. Laurel hisses when he touches me and conjures a dagger made of ice that she presses against his throat. There’s nothing in her eyes but a beast. Fionn falters for only a moment, and I give him credit for staying firmly by my side despite the lethal look she gives him. He’s come a long way since we arrived in Thayaria. I take her hands in mine, stroking soft circles over her thumbs.

“I’m okay, witchling. Fionn is my friend. He won’t hurt me. Turn that sexy rage the other way.” I give her a wink and a half smile, trying to use the irreverent and cheeky tone I know she loves so much to break through the mating bond. Her eyes lose some of their blown-out inkiness, and a small sliver of green rings them. She slowly backs away, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she crosses to the other side of the thick shield she keeps up around Silene, Fionn, and me. As soon as she’s outside of it, water and wind join the swirling mass of light that protects us.

She turns back to the rebels, thankfully at the exact right moment to see weapons hurtling her way. They wink out of existence, and she stalks toward them, a predator caging her prey. Lightning cracks down from the sky in an astonishing display I’ve never seen her manage, branching out in all directions. Right before it strikes, the small group of rebels disappear, reappearing ten feet away. Krantz laughs coldly.

“Impressive, Witch,” he says with a hiss. “But I told you I had secrets of my own. You didn’t expect a powerful dual channeler from amongst yourcommoners, did you?” Laurel is completely still, eyes narrowed on Krantz in a rapacious stare.

“I’m going to kill you,” she spits with the icy rage of the Witch Queen of legend. Krantz only sneers.

“I’ve heard that before, and yet here I still stand.” He brings his arms wide, cocky smirk on his face. “I see Prince Hawthorne was never on our side. Can’t say I’m surprised. But you wound me, Your Highness.” Krantz places his hand over his heart in mock offense. I only bare my teeth at him, though even the small movement makes my vision swim from the pain.

Laurel shoots light daggers at his chest, but he evades them by aerstepping away and using his own sword to block, leaving his people behind to be struck with her magic. Several of them drop to the ground with grunts of pain. With a growl, Laurel creates a massive cyclone of air that she sends spinning toward Krantz and his group, but he uses his own air magic power to smother it. With a whistle from Krantz, dozens more rebels surround us on all sides, emerging from deep within the forest. This was a trap, and we fell right into it, surrounded now by at least a hundred fighters. Fionn grunts next to me, the same realization dawning on him.

“Go. Help her, please,” I beg him. Despite losing his magic from the iron-tipped arrow that skimmed his shoulder, Fionn is still a formidable warrior, and the wound is shallow enough that he can still fight with full physical strength. I won’t leave Laurel defenseless, and while I’ll fight until I drop, I can feel my body losing its battle with the iron coursing through my veins. Fionn releases me and I stagger but remain upright. He crosses the thick shield and runs stealthily into the copse of trees surrounding us, swords in both fists.

Without his support, the pain from the gash in my leg nearly overwhelms me. My eyes water and a wave of nausea makes me sway on my feet. I’m about to drop, but Silene scoops her shoulder under mine, supporting my weight despite her small frame. I try not to place all my weight on her, but a shooting pain down my leg forces me to slump. I take a deep breath, wanting desperately to pull myself together to help Laurel.

Grunts from the shadows sound out, and I know Fionn has started his covert campaign. The noises embolden Laurel, and lightning strikes again at the same time that she launches herself forward into Krantz, light sword in one hand and a steel blade in the other. They fight in close combat, a whirl of blades and magic flashing with light as Laurel’s lightning strikes around them. I wince every time a bolt hits the ground, worried she’ll lose track of the magic and zap herself. But my fear is unwarranted, for Laurel fights as well as any Andomer light channeler who’s been training for centuries. She moves through her forms with expert precision, shielding one moment and parrying with a light sword the next, all while maintaining the shield around Silene and me. Pride radiates through my chest even as I clench my hands in fear for her.

But Krantz is a strong fighter as well, and he uses Laurel’s rage against her. It’s obvious to an observer that he’s slowly edging her toward a group of rebels. Silene’s gasp tells me she notices it too.

“Laurel!” Silene screams, but Laurel is too far gone in her fury to hear her. Krantz’s strategy is successful, and now at least ten rebels surround Laurel, and she has to fight off their magic in addition to Krantz’s. The shield around Silene and me drops, and I sag in relief that she’s got her focus entirely on protecting herself.

With the shield down and our attention firmly on Laurel, vines creep from the forest beyond and slowly wrap their way around our legs, pinning Silene and me in place. There’s a plant channeler hidden away somewhere that Fionn hasn’t taken out yet. A sprig of ivy squeezes my wound, and my body shakes involuntarily with the pain. I’m feverish now, the iron arrows still lodged in my wounds leeching away my aether-force. I moan in pain, and slump farther onto Silene, who lets out her own grunt. Fionn notices from the other side of the clearing and runs in our direction, striking down every rebel who stands in his way.

When he reaches us, he slices through the vines holding us and lifts me off Silene, who looks like she’s about to collapse. Her hand goes to her stomach, where crimson blood has soaked through her tunic in a deep arrow wound I didn’t initially see. She’s as injured as I am.

“Silene,” I cry, but she waves me off.

“I’ll be okay. Go help Laurel, Fionn. Krantz is baiting her,” she commands, no room for argument in her voice. Fionn hesitates, eyes unsure as he looks between Silene, Laurel, and me. But it’s moot, because before he can act, we’re circled by rebels who have been aerstepped by Krantz to surround us. Iron-dipped swords point at our hearts. From across the clearing, Krantz laughs again before he aersteps to stand right in front of me, leaving Laurel swinging her sword at empty air.

She spins around and screams, eyes narrowed in a feral gleam. Her hair is matted with sweat, and blood has turned her pink sundress deep red. There are scratches across her arms and chest, but her blood has not been drawn. If it had, I would know. More rebels appear from out of nowhere to surround Laurel, engaging her in a furious hand-to-hand battle, making it impossible for her to aerstep to us.

“Not so cool and collected when yourmateis at risk, are you?” Krantz sneers as he looks over his shoulder at her, and my stomach drops out of my body.How does he know?

I see the same question written across Laurel’s expression for a moment before it fades behind a wild gleam. With a roar, she reaches out her fist and clenches it, and the six fae surrounding her drop dead where they stand. She’s winked out their aether-force, and Krantz doesn’t look surprised in the least.

I take stock of my surroundings, trying to figure out how to get us out of this mess. The rebels have separated me from Fionn and Silene, who now stand huddled together with no less than six iron-dipped swords pointed at them. I can’t see the number of fae behind me, but there are at least four in front besides Krantz. Without Fionn’s or Silene’s support, my entire body throbs with pain, and I can feel the sweat leaking down my face and back as I try to bear the convulsions now wracking my body. I shift my weight to stand on the other leg, but it doesn’t help. Instead of giving into the tempting bliss of unconsciousness, I keep my eyes locked on Laurel forty paces away from me, where she continues to fight off three and four attackers at a time, chest rising and falling with her heavy panting. She’s powerful, but even she cannot keep this up alone, especially not while she’s in a blinding rage and hurling whatever magic she can at her assailants.

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