Page 23 of Claimed By the Fae Lord

"No!" I screeched, rushing toward him.

The remaining attackers descended on me in a flurry of blows and swinging swords but I barely felt them. My magic pulsed erratically, ice and panic tangling until I couldn't tell one from the other.

All that mattered was reaching Lorne. Protecting him, the way he'd tried to protect me. I owed him that much. Owed the king. Nox's brother couldn't die like this.

A sword caught me across the ribs, sharp pain slicing through my thoughts. I gasped, stumbling.

"Lorne," I breathed, pushing as many ice daggers out as I could, trying to reach him, to get us both to safety.

The injured giant was already up on his hands and knees, rising to his feet. His grey eyes darkened to black, staring down the enemies between us.

He'd never make it across the room to me.

"Go!" I yelled, swinging the sword I'd taken from one of the fae I'd knocked to the ground.

Lorne lifted his palms, the hum of his power vibrating.

Was he seriously going to drain his waning energy? "Get help, idiot!"

His eyes darted to me. He could be back in less than two minutes with help. Why was he hesitating?

The answer came through loud and clear when I saw the determined look of retribution in his eyes. If he planned to keep fighting them because they'd drawn his ire, he really was an idiot.

"Now!" I grunted, turning into a high kick and away from Lorne.

"Don't die," he ordered, finally magicking his giant ass out of this hell.

The relief I felt was short-lived.

I swung and jabbed and ducked, using my powers in between strikes. I was good, but there was only one of me.

Please hurry, I silently begged, plunging steel through the nearest torso.

I yanked back but the male's hands were on the handle, covering mine. Bloodshot eyes and an unhinged laugh made my skin crawl. Unable to pull the sword out, I let go. And backed into a wall of pissed-off fae.

The blow to the back of my head was expected. The wink from the asshole slowly extracting the blade I'd plugged him with was not.

I was out before my body hit the floor.

When I came to, I was gasping, blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. I was momentarily disoriented, unsure of my surroundings and how I had ended up there.

Then it all came rushing back. The attack, Lorne riddled with arrows, me yelling at him to leave. The others descending to finish their task.

Alarm rose in my chest as I struggled to sit up, biting back a cry at the sharp pain in my side. My hands came away bloody when I pressed them to my ribs, the memory of the slices of swords into my flesh all too vivid.

Everything hurt. I'd been hit, kicked, cut, struck with offensive spells, from head to toe. Even so, I wasn't healing as fast as I should have. I must have used more of my well-store than I thought.

Get control of yourself, Raina, my mother's sardonic voice rang in my head.I didn't raise you to be weak.

Emotions would get me nowhere right now. I'd become adept at hiding them long ago, functioning with a cool demeanor. Though I detested admitting it, the skill came in handy, especially when dealing with those who thought ill of me.

Closing my eyes, I shut down that train of thought, centering myself, focusing on my pulse. On the air coming into my lungs, then pushing out.

I went to the place in me where there was no pain or fear, where I was strong and capable. Where I wasn't a pawn, a chess piece to be sacrificed for the whims of a couple whose selfishness knew no bounds.

When my mind let go of all the negatives and I was ready to process this current predicament, I opened my eyes.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small window with tattered curtains. The furniture was worn and threadbare, with peeling paint and scratches. The stale scent of dust and neglect clung to the room.

---