Page 442 of Primal Bonds

He doggedly continued to zigzag through the night fae. But he was moving slower now, his limbs strangely heavy, as if the shadows had somehow taken on weight and were tugging on him.

Another bolt of lightning forced the shadows to retreat. Or maybe it wasn’t lightning, but the sun fae.

Hope surged in Adric. He slipped around a couple of night fae warriors to join Marjani and Rosana, but the prince had realized the two were about to escape.

He flung up a hand. “Marjani Savonett and Rosana do Rio!” he commanded in a voice thick with power. “Halt!”

Rosana checked, but Marjani spun around, one hand on a silver charm that hung from her quartz. For the first time, he realized she was wearing a protection charm.

A warrior started forward, fae ball in hand.

Adric rushed back to Rosana and his sister. “I can cloak all three of us,” he said. “Get ready to run like hell.” He slipped an arm around each of their shoulders.

The portal wavered.

“Hurry!” he said. “Before it closes.”

The shadows surrounded them. Tendrils snaked toward them.

Marjani shoved the protection charm at them and they retreated. But the portal had closed.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Then the sky lit like someone had torn back a curtain to let in the noon sun. As the night fae hissed in pain, the wards broke with an audible crack, sending a surge of energy that forced the three of them to stagger back.

Rain sluiced down.

“Go!” Adric urged the two women forward again.

More bolts of light slashed through the night. Queen Cleia strode into the clearing, her body a sunlit column, bolts of gold shooting from her fingertips.

For a few seconds, everyone—even Prince Langdon—stared at her, mouths ajar. Then the night fae snapped to life.

But more people poured into the clearing behind the queen.

Sun fae. River fada. And Jace, Fane, and a pack of Baltimore wolves with Zuri at the head.

“Now these kind of odds I can live with,” his sister said.

Adric dropped the cloak so the three of them were visible again. The earth fada surrounded them, and they prepared to fight as fae on each side armed themselves with fiery balls of light.

Cleia planted herself at the center. With a wave of her hand, a fireball exploded at Langdon’s feet. “I warned you to set the fada free, my lord. Now I’m here to demand their release. And think before you answer. I have two hundred more warriors itching for a fight.”

Langdon conjured up a seething mass of shadows and doused the fireball.

“Shadows blot out the sun,” he returned. “It’s the night of the new moon. Do you think you can beat me?”

Cleia raised her hands. Behind her, Dion placed his hands on her shoulders. Something flashed between the two of them. Twin suns sparked to life in her hands.

“But sunlight chases away the shadows.” The glowing balls in her hands grew brighter.

Langdon recovered first. He took two steps forward, face pale and eyebrows glittering. Two black-clad warriors flanked him, fae balls glowing in their palms.

Cleia raised her hands higher. An unearthly flame danced in her palms, lighting her gold, silver and copper hair so that it shone like living fire.

“Tell your guards to stand down,” she gritted, “or I’ll turn them into ashes.”

“Try it.” Langdon pointed a finger at Cleia, but the rest of them had had time to shrug off whatever spell he’d cast.

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