Page 17 of The Stones for It
Vrath dropped his hold on me and drew twin black sabres from a swirl of shadows. An onyx gemstone embedded in their pommels, the elegantly curved weapons as deadly as they were stunning.
Scarlet flames sparked to life in Neiron’s hands, illuminating the dim forest like the sun had finally risen.
Magic crackled around me as I gripped my own short blade. I had no choice but to trust the two fae to have my back as we waited for the danger to materialise.
We didn’t have to wait long.
Furred creatures burst from the heavy foliage, cackling eerily. Golden werehyenas raced towards us on all fours, shifted to their slathering beast form.
But they weren’t alone.
Amongst their ranks, white-furred stags galloped, with wide, branching horns, pointy hooves and scratched metal collars. Behind the mass, bipedal rabbit-like fae ran, their tall horns putting them level with the other two castes.
I had no time to ponder at whatever fae politics united these castes or brought so many of them here when the weres were a notoriously warmongering court.
“Protect her!” Neiron snarled, not sparing a glance back as he surged to meet the myriad of beasts, bright flames racing ahead of him.
Keening yelps sounded as foxfire swallowed the first bouda, sending it tumbling in a mass of fur and flame into a nearby tree trunk.
Obsidian blades scissored inches from me, slicing the outstretched paw of a werehyena mid-leap. Something crashed into my shoulder, knocking me aside as momentum carried the howling beast through the spot I’d been standing.
Vrath stepped into view, eyes blazing. “Move, human!”
I shook myself, letting my training settle into my bones. The shock of being thrust into a magic-laden assault squashed in favour of survival.
Calm focus descended. I raised my fae-forged blade. Within seconds, one of the white stags charged me, sharp antlers lowered. I dived into a roll between its front hooves and stabbed upwards as it sailed overhead.
Hot liquid gushed down my arm as I sliced through the shifter’s underbelly.
It landed with a pained screech and thunderous slam of its hooves.
The stag took one look at my blood-drenched blade and limped off between the trees. For a fae, it wasn’t a lethal wound, but it was more than a tickle. I let the injured shifter go in favour of the bigger threats closing in.
Too many beasts swarmed Vrath, fangs and claws tearing at the gargoyle even as he created a lethal whirlwind of swords, dealing four cuts for every one that sliced him.
Heat licked the side of my face. Flames ravaged bodies and bushes alike, Neiron at the centre of it all, holding back the snarling, braying creatures as best he could.
Worry tightened my chest, but a golden blur streaked past Vrath’s defences before I could help my mate.
It was all I could do to dart aside, narrowly avoiding the bouda’s claws aimed at my face. I swiped my blade as I dodged again, but it was too short for more than a shallow gash across the beast’s paw.
It snarled, rearing up on hind legs. Bones cracked and its snout shortened as it rapidly shifted to its warrior form—a brutal mix between full hyena and humanoid fae.
“You reek of kitsune, Shua’than,” he spat, words falling heavy from his muzzle. Manic glee stretched his lips into an eeriegrin. “You’ll be the perfect torture for that gutless craven who killed our king.”
He swiped at me, trying to grab rather than maim.
“Kelsea!” Neiron shouted.
He leapt onto the shifter’s back, wings flaring for balance, and the two fae went up in flames. The bouda screamed, high-pitched and awful. Neiron bathed in the ruby fires like some kind of demon.
The pair tipped back into a shrub, and the leaves caught. Flames jumped to the next one and the next until a blood-red inferno swallowed the jungle in a roaring blaze.
I staggered back from the heat, frantically searching for any sign of my mate.
“Neiron!” I screamed, my voice barely piercing the crackling fire and pained wails.
The royal kitsune had to be fireproof. It was his magic, after all, but he wasn’t immune to claws and fangs and torn arteries.
