Page 110 of A Song of Air
“Run!” Weylyn cried, his voice breaking in something she’d never heard in him before.
Fear.
“Bryson, run!”
He tugged her harder, her legs pumped faster. Her chest burned with every breath she took like iron was scraping down her throat, threatening to block her airway. Her chest seized. Her legs cramped.
“Weylyn!”
“Just a bit further,” he urged. The desperation in his voice frightened her more than anything else ever could.
The snarling grew closer. A shiver slid down her spine. She could feel a presence, something swarming overhead. Close, they were so close. An almost invisible foe she couldn’t scent or hear, but she felt them.
Her breath caught in her throat, and between one second and the next, everything changed.
Her hand was ripped from Weylyn’s grasp by what felt like an invisible force. She cried out as she was blasted backwards, blinking furiously to find another one of those beasts suddenly above her, pinning her down with its horns.
She screamed as it opened its mouth to roar.
She grasped at her magic with trembling fingers, but it refused to respond.
Her head thrashed from side to side as she leaned away from those sharp teeth. Her eyes snagged on Weylyn as he cried out, his distress capturing her attention. She let out a scream as he was tossed through the air by one of those creatures and landed with a painful thump on the ground.
“Weylyn!”
She wanted to reach for him, but her magic wasn’t obeying. And all she could taste inside of her mouth was iron and blood.
Suddenly another creature landed from the air. The very ground shook from the force. There was a clattering of jewels and the gleaming sight of gold catching the sunlight.
And Bryson held her breath, watching as all the creatures stilled when a Fae man appeared into her line of vision.
Tall, lithe, and dripping in gold was the first thing she noticed. She blinked and blinked and blinked some more to get a clearer picture. A long braid hung over his shoulder and atop his head, there was a golden crown of what looked like thorns.
The man stalked forward and pressed his boot deep against Weylyn’s chest, looming over him and flashing a feral smile that looked vaguely familiar.
“Well, well, well,” he purred in a voice smooth as silk and dangerous as sin. “Last I recall, you were banished from the Unseelie Court forever.” He dug his boot in, and Weylyn let out a grunt. “Oh, but it is nice to see you again... little brother.”
