Page 89 of A Sword of Ice
Then his pounding footfalls appeared as he all but slammed down the steps and into the wall of humans beating against Iona. He took them down, the heavy weight of his rage and muscle flattening their faces against the ground. A single blow wreaked death, and his anger threatened absolute destruction.
Iona pushed herself up on shaking feet, her hands trembling as she pushed away the mess of curls against her eyes, sure she was staining the silver red with blood. Her vision felt hazy with it, and there was a tugging against her magical self that she wanted to ignore but couldn’t. It was something she didn’t recognize, and it only took her a single moment to realize it wasn’t her own pain.
It was Julius’.
Her mate fell to his knees. Blood bloomed across his abdomen, around the iron sword that was shoved inside his body. Iona wanted to scream at the sight, but her tongue felt heavy, leaden against the roof of her mouth. Her entire body trembled, and she wanted to take a step forward, but she felt frozen in more ways than one. Her legs wouldn’t obey her command.
It was like living in the war all over again, watching those she loved died. Like waking up at night with her legs tangled around a ratty sheet, staring at horrifying images but unable to move. It didn’t matter how much she commanded her fingers to tap against her thighs, they just wouldn’t obey.
“Julius!”
The scream came from a voice that wasn’t her own. Feminine, horrified, angry.
Something jostled against her body, rather, someone. Wavy, black hair trailed behind Shula as she darted towards Julius’ crumpling figure, Clay and Ryker at her heels.
Iona watched as another woman bent towards her mate and helped sit him down on the ground. Her eyes flicked wildly, watching humans emerge from rooms, surrounding them. Iona was too helpless to stop it.
But then Shula Azzarh stood to her full height, and her rage was an almost palpable thing, burning like a blazing fire. No, not her rage, Iona realized. Her magic. Her entire golden-brown body began to glow like molten lava. Like rivers of it lived beneath her skin, flickering just below the surface of it.
Her eyes seemed to roll to the back of her head, consumed with orange. Like she was burning too hotly from the inside out. When the first licks of fire shot from her body, they caught against the nearest humans, incinerating them. Their screams pierced the sky like the ashes they billowed from their abominable chimneys.
Like a song of death Iona could never forget but hummed through her mind.
It broke her out of her stupor and her legs staggered forward one step, then two. Her knees collided to the ground in front of Julius, tears stinging against her eyes. She wanted to cup his cheeks, but she was too afraid to touch him. Too afraid her hands would shake and she’d hurt him more than her actions already had.
The blade pierced through his entire body. He looked more dead than alive, but she felt the life he was clinging to through their bond. She knew if they took the sword out, he would die.
“I can’t lose you.” Her voice was hoarse, heartbroken. “I can’t lose you, too.”
His eyes flicked over her face and he forced a familiar smirk to his lips, but it was entirely too strained.
“Julius…”
“Get out of the way!” Shula shoved Iona to the side, and she fell against the ground, her head jostling with the abrupt movement. She turned her glare to the fire Fae, nostrils flaring.
“You have no right to keep me from my mate.” A fierce possessiveness rose inside her. One she thought only Fae males felt, but it was very much alive within her.
“Look what you did to your mate, Iona,” Shula spat. “Take a good long fucking look.” She gestured at the sword protruding from his stomach.
Julius looked like he was in excruciating pain, impaled and wheezing. Since the sword protruded from the other side, they didn’t lay him down. Clay sat behind him, holding him up, while Ryker assessed the wound with a clinical eye.
“Just go do whatever you fucking came for so we can leave.” Shula bent beside Ryker, whispering rapidly in his ear, asking if she could help.
Iona felt torn. She wanted to help but knew there was nothing she could do save hover over him. She wasn’t a healer, but Ryker was, and she knew she’d only get in his way. The other part of her screamed to go check the rooms in the camp. To find what she’d set out to, just so this whole ordeal didn’t feel like it was in vain.
“That will not be necessary,” Valerio’s tight voice joined them. She turned to the Seelie Prince. He was standing beside Uric, who was glaring daggers in her direction like he meant to kill her with a single stare.
She wanted that gaze to swallow her up. If only because the look in the prince’s eyes and Julius’ constant struggle to breathe made her feel like she made a colossal mistake. But she didn’t want to admit that they’d been right.
That they never should have come here.
But she had to know, regardless.
“There is no one here, Iona,” Valerio said, hatred bleeding through his words like Julius’ life force was bleeding past the edge of the blade. “No one but these humans.”
The words were like dying a slow death beneath the depths of waves all over again.
“I have to check—” She pushed herself to her feet again, swayed.
