Page 8 of Shadow & Stars
3
XAVIER
My hearts forgot to beat for several seconds as Roman appeared on the ice. I felt a flash of surprise and a burning temptation to stop and hold him and kiss every inch of his skin. Danger be damned. All I wanted was him.
“Run, Roman!” I cried, suppressing my wants.
As soon as I called those words, Queen Margarite appeared beside him in a swirl of dust.
Once again, my hearts failed in their next couple of beats.
“What can I do for you?” she asked my glittering witch lover.
He’s here. He’s with me again.
But what was this development with Margarite?
“Buy us some time,” Roman responded to her.
The deposed witch queen bowed. “Of course, My Shadow.” She ran toward the monarchs.
I ground to a halt, sliding across the ice, coming to a stop by Roman’s side.
“Bestie,” Darcy muttered into my ear.
Roman’s amber eyes were bright suns in his fair golden face, flecks of golden dust swimming across his pupils. He kept his attention on the queen, every part of him as still as stone.
“We have to move,” I said. “Come with me.”
“Wait,” he whispered.
Margarite flung her arms about as if sowing seeds, golden dust puffing into the air with each movement.
“We have to go, Roman,” I tried again. “They will tear us apart. It’s too cold for Darcy.”
He cocked his head. “Just wait.” He was too calm, too cold. The assassin, The Shadow, removed from all feeling, focused on the task at hand.
The demons were almost upon Margarite. Any moment now they would mow her down, then us. We shouldn’t be standing here like sitting ducks, not with the gate out of here just across the bridge over the deep ravine.
“We can still make it,” I said. “We can?—”
The dust thrown by Margarite exploded like fireworks, streams of golden sparks shooting into the sky as one violent sheet. It spread across the ice, forming a barrier between us and the monarchs.
Was this magical? Was this even possible?
A demon king struck the wall and was immediately repelled backwards. He crashed into the army, knocking several demons over like skittles.
“What is this?” I asked, stunned into stillness.
“I don’t… I don’t know…” Roman whispered.
I turned to him, his complexion deathly pale. He stared at Margarite, who skipped back and forth along the wall throwing out more dust.
“Look at me, Roman,” I said.
He blinked, in a daze. His hands were balled into fists, the constantly falling dust landing in his eyelashes.
“Roman?”
