Page 71 of Blood Weaver
He gripped my upper arms to steady me and keep me from falling. “Leila?” he asked with a raised brow. Reaching for the face covering, he pulled it down to expose my face.
I guess I wasn’t as hidden as I thought I was.
I stumbled away from Caelan, knowing he was just as bad as my mystery attacker. When I turned to run, the prince grabbed me and swung me to the side. Only when I heard the swish of a sword did I realize he’d just saved my life.
I furrowed my brows, confused. In Caelan’s eyes, I was the enemy because of my complicated relationship with Ronan. Why would he help me?
Caelan's sword clashed against that of my mystery attacker, the metallic resonance echoing in the otherwise still night. I stood there frozen, caught between the urge to flee and the bewildering sight before me. Caelan, a man who had every reason to despise me, stood between me and an assailant whose intentions were clear—to kill me.
My heart pounded loudly in my ears, a miasma of confusion and adrenaline. Every stroke of their swords, every parry and attack revealed a dance of deadly intent unfolding before my eyes.
In the midst of the chaos, my eyes locked with Caelan’s. Cold fury lit his gaze with a darkness that had nothing to do with the night’s shadows. Yet, in that moment, the enmity between us was eclipsed by a graver threat.
The mystery attacker was skilled, his movements precise and lethal. Caelan matched him stroke for stroke.
“I never thought the great Prince Caelan from Eldwain would protect Ronan’s woman,” the mystery assailant sneered.
His words caught me off guard. It was obvious the men knew each other.
Caelan smirked. “AndInever thought the infamous Commander Mykal Kaiser of Keldara would dare show his face in the Central Plains. But what are the odds?”
Keldara?
My gaze whipped to the commander and I fisted my hands at my sides. Anger surged through me at the sight of my sworn enemy.
Caelan stood in front of me, using his body as a shield. “What are you doing?” I murmured so only he could hear me.
“You know who he is, Leila,” Caelan muttered back. “I might not like you, but evenIwouldn’t wish him upon my enemy. Keldara will show you no mercy. What he wants is to send your head to Ronan.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” I asked confused.
Caelan snorted. “Yeah … it is. But I guess maybe not as much as Mykal. Temporary truce?” he offered.
My brows furrowed, knowing Caelan could turn on me at any moment. “Truce,” I decided. This would either me the best decision ever, or the worst.
The clash of steel rang through the air as Caelan and Mykal locked in combat again. I knew the reputation of the Keldaran forces—brutal, merciless, and unyielding. My family and people suffered under their cruel hands when they invaded Valoria. Every stroke of Caelan's sword against Mykal’s was imbued with the memory of their atrocities.
The menace in Mykal’s gaze was as chilling as the winds that swept through the silent night. “You’re making a big mistake, Prince,” Mykal taunted as their swords clashed again. “We have a common enemy. We should be working together. Sending her head to the Crimson Clan would be a wonderful sight.”
“Not if I kill you first!” I growled. I scanned the area for a weapon but found nothing. That left me with only one option. I was a mage; I had magic within me. Now that I knew who he was, I wasn’t afraid to show what I could do. Besides, Caelan already knew I was a mage … just not what kind. I still had to keep that part hidden.
I closed my eyes for a moment and summoned the energy within me. The power of my magic simmered beneath my skin, a fierce, wild force ready to be unleashed. Mykal’s grating laughter echoed in the night, fueling the fire within me.
I stretched out my hand, my eyes blazing with untapped power. The air around us crackled with electricity, an ominous precursor to the storm of power about to be unleashed. Mykal’s laughter ceased and his eyes widened when he comprehended his imminent danger. The cold, harsh light of realization dawned in his eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?” I spat. The energy pulsing through my veins lent a fierce tremor to my voice. A sudden blast of power shot from my hand, swift and lethal. Mykal deftly dodged the flare, his agility a testament to battle-hardened skills. But I was unrelenting as I unleashed my power in a torrential downpour of wrath and vengeance.
The night was shattered by the fearsome clash of magic and steel. With Caelan fighting alongside me, our combined forces—magic and sword—were formidable adversaries against the menacing threat of the Commander of Keldara.
Mykal, outnumbered but undaunted, fought with the vicious tenacity of a man with nothing to lose. Each swing of his sword was a stark reminder of the unyielding cruelty of Keldara—a cruelty that left scars etched deep within my soul.
Caelan and I fought side by side, the enmity between us momentarily suspended in the face of a graver threat. It was a reluctant alliance; each stroke of his sword and my magic was an acknowledgment of a mutual enemy.
Mykal careened over the asphalt when my magic blasted him several feet away from us. Battered but not broken, he used his sword to hold himself up. “This isn’t over!” he growled.
As Mykal retreated into the night, defeated but not vanquished, Caelan and I were left in the haunting stillness ofthe aftermath. Our breathing was heavy. For many minutes, we didn’t speak.
“Why are you here?” I asked once I’d caught my breath. “Don’t you want to kill me, too?” I frowned.
