Page 112 of A Sword of Ice
Fuck.
Iona.
They ran towards the stairs, Valerio’s quick, lithe form moving ahead of Julius, his sword drawn and gleaming. Julius swallowed up the steps towards his mate in long, stomping strides. The stairs shook beneath his furious weight, and his heart pounded as a fresh spike of grief, anger, and fear jolted down their bond.
His every instinct screamed at him to protect his mate, but Valerio made it into the room first, his foot connecting against the iron door. It flew open, hitting the wall and nearly slamming back closed gain against Julius’ face. His fist connected with it, knocking it off its hinges. By the time Julius and Uric were stepping into the room, it was to be greeted by the sounds of clashing metal.
And the crisp, cold scent of snowfall on the ground.
Snowfall.
And blood.
* * *
The sword connectedagainst a thin wall of ice that shattered upon impact. Crystalline shards sliced against Iona’s face, and the sword sliced down, its pathway diverted so it grazed the side of her cheek.
Blood swelled and dripped against the blanket of snow beneath her body. A product of her grief and fury.
Iona rolled on it, and the blade followed. Slicing with little finesse, its only purpose murderous rage. The human attached to the end of the sword followed, his cries of fury silenced by the whistling swing of his sword. Iona dodged by a hairsbreadth every time, flinging weak magic as she crawled away, her nails scraping against the ground.
Her hoarse voice seemed stuck, a lump so tight in her throat that she could barely wheeze past it, let alone scream. Everything that had happened within the last few moments had made her energy deplete, the overuse of her magic and the proximity to iron already wearing on her. Down the bond, she screamed, but there was no response.
As if she’d been abandoned not only by Mana, but her mate as well. Like this was her punishment for the sins of her past, for her delusions.
She sobbed at the treacherous thoughts as she slid against snow. The blade snagged against her leg, cutting through the material of her pants, too close to her flesh. The flat part hit against her leg, sending a limping agony through her muscles.
She waited for the blow, her eyes squeezing shut. She wondered if it would be prudent to send a final prayer up to Mana. Not for herself, but for her familiar, for Julius, for the others.
Just as soon as the prayers were about to fly from her mind, the door to the office was kicked open and steel rang against steel. There was a loud crash, stomping, familiar footsteps. Then she was in someone’s arms.
The familiar smells of ale and grass and leather enveloped her like a blanket of comfort.
“Iona.” Julius’ hand cupped her cheek, but her eyes remained firmly closed.
Then the sharpness of blood cut through her senses, and her eyes flew open.
“Fuck!” Prince Valerio shouted. Blood welled from his chest and dripped down the human’s sword.
The first drop didn’t even have time to hit the ground before Uric was in front of him, merely a blur cutting through shadows. Within the next moment, his blade was embedded deep into the human’s gut.
The sword clattered to the ground, and the human soon followed. His breaths came out in gasps as the life began leaving his eyes, the process slow and agonizing.
Iona predicted he would be dead within the hour.
“It is just a scratch.” Valerio pushed Uric away, who hovered over him, his fingers reaching for the wound. The blood on the Seelie prince had stopped flowing, and Iona caught a flashing glimpse of his chest beneath the cut in his shirt. It really did not look like just a scratch.
Valerio shoved Uric aside with his arm, taking a step towards the human, slouched against the ground. He was wheezing, blood staining his lips that sprayed against his front with every gasping breath he took.
Valerio’s foot connected to his side. “Scum,” he sneered, while at the same time looking completely composed. “I should kill you where you lay for attacking a prince.”
The human let out a strangled whimpering noise, which only caused Valerio to smile.
“Do not worry. I think you deserve to feel the pain you have inflicted on the Fae you have harbored here for yourself. Which means a slow, torturous death. Uric.” He snapped the Fae’s name like a command.
And Uric knew exactly what he meant.
He stepped forward and ripped his blade from the human’s gut so he’d bleed out agonizingly slowly.
