Page 35 of Daughter of the Ninth Line: Part Two

Judging by the way his face went a puce color, he did indeed remember, and whatever she was referring to wasn’t a nostalgic memory. “It’s so good to see you, Svenna. I’d forgotten you existed since you disappeared behind the walls of Boellium, nothing more than a useless cripple.”

I didn’t even see her move, but she had a knife under his chin before my eyes caught up.Holy fuck.

“Not so useless. Even with one arm, I’m a better warrior than you’ll ever be. You’re just a small man, with an even smaller dick, blessed with a big army.”

I touched her elbow gently, a warning. I didn’t want her to die just because she’d gotten into a pissing match with this psychopath.

Someone shouted down the beach, the partygoers oblivious to the battle of wills happening in the shadows.

Stanlus snorted at her, his eyes moving back to me, dismissing her like she hadn’t nearly slit his throat. “Don’t stress yourself. I’ve taken care of the problem that brought us here. We’ll be on our way.”

Svenna’s head whipped down toward the beach, and I realized the shouting wasn’t drunken conscripts. It was something more.

Every ounce of training I had disappeared, and I turned and started to run, ignoring Stanlus’s cold laughter echoing behind me. The crowds were thick between me and the place I’d left Avalon. I tried to see her, my eyes running through groups of people. I couldn’t see her, or Shay, or even her friends from the Twelfth Line.

Where was she?

I wanted to shout for her. Call her back to me so I could see with my own eyes she was safe, but I couldn’t. If Stanlus was full of shit, he would know for sure that she meant something to me and her life would be forfeit.

“Shay?” I shouted instead. She was meant to be watching her. “Shay!”

People were starting to run up the beach, back toward the dorms and away from whatever was causing their terror. I created a buffer of air around me and pushed through them. I needed to find Avalon; I needed to make sure she was okay.

When I broke through the crowd, my heart stopped beating in my chest. One of my father’s guards stood there, his gun raised and pointed at Avalon as she stood, wide-eyed beside Hayle Taeme.

Guns were something used only by the First Line. Even the weakest of our Line could use air magic to propel a bullet from the chamber, aided by the mechanics of the weapon. It was how we’d held our power for so long against the other Lines, who didn’t have elemental abilities and relied on swords and hand-to-hand combat.

Guns were effective killing devices from far away. As close as the guard was standing to Avalon? There would be nothing left of her head if he pulled the trigger.

“No!” I shouted, running, thrusting my power out, but I was too slow. The whistle of sound, the scrape of the bullet propelling through the chamber, the clap of its release echoing around the rocky outcropping, all screamed that I was too late.

I spotted Shay on the other side of the clearing, her own hand out to use her powers to divert the bullet or create a barrier or something, but she stood even less of a chance of being fast enough.

What happened next occured so slowly, it was like torture, even though in reality it was between one frantic beat of my heart and the next.

Hayle pushing Avalon.

The bullet lodging in his chest, exploding his flesh outwards like crushed fruit.

A knife lodging in the back of the guard’s neck, severing his spine.

My air catching Hayle and lowering him gently to the ground.

Hayle’s hounds tearing the guard to pieces as he lay paralyzed and helpless.

The wailing sound of Avalon’s cries as she climbed over Hayle’s body.

He’d saved her. He’d saved her, and now he was dead.

Twenty-Two

Avalon

No.

Not again.

“Hayle!” I screamed, the world around me going hazy as I scrambled through the sand to him, my hands buried in the mess of bone and flesh in his chest, trying to hold him together. Trying to hold him here with me.

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