Page 60 of A Song of Air
Bryson’s neck heated and she knew Ev’s was probably doing the same. Weylyn was openly and very obviously insulting him.
This was definitely going to be a disaster.
Clay moved aside and Ev and Weylyn were alone, facing one another in silence. There was a charge in the air. Weylyn stood preternaturally still, placing his hands behind his back, clasping them together. He appeared like he was unbothered, unworried.
Everette lifted his sword and pointed it in the Fae’s direction. “Shall we begin? Or will you continue to stare at me?”
Weylyn didn’t reply. It was as if he wasn’t there at all.
Bryson squinted as if that could fix her vision and allow her to see their features any clearer. It didn’t. It only made her temples pound with the beginning of a headache.
“Well?” Ev prompted.
Still, Weylyn didn’t move.
Ev shifted forward. “Very well.”
And then he struck.
Faster than an average human could move, Ev thrust his sword in Weylyn’s direction. It wasn’t a friendly blow. It wasn’t even a sparring blow. It was deadly, precise. He aimed straight for Weylyn’s chest and Bryson’s mouth dropped open, ready to cry out a warning.
But like lightning, Weylyn moved, twisting his body to the side and causing Ev to stumble forward. Ev growled, righted himself, and whirled on Weylyn once again. The Fae stood eerily still, even as Ev lifted the sword and swung.
Weylyn bent his body backwards, his braid flicking down his back, swinging low to the ground as he balanced himself. The sword swished near his face, missing by a few inches only.
Ev righted himself and Weylyn stood to his full height. Bryson could almost feel the smile dominating the Fae’s mouth. It felt like nobody in the camp was breathing, witnessing this display. Weylyn didn’t attack at all. He merely dodged. Every missed blow had Ev’s anger mounting. He didn’t become sloppy, though he did tire quicker. Every time it seemed he found an opening Weylyn would suddenly move. One moment he’d be there and within the next blink, gone.
It was like watching a predator play with its prey.
It was then that Bryson remembered.
Weylyn had some kind of mind game magic. He’d easily slipped into her brain, pushing images and words. She wondered if he was doing the same thing to Ev. There was no way they were evenly matched. There was no possible way Ev could beat him.
Bryson gritted her teeth the longer she watched. It was cruel watching Weylyn torment him. He let him believe he could get a blow in only to dodge at the last second, right before the sword swung his way.
Suddenly, a flash through Bryson’s mind had her reeling back. She gasped as thoughts that weren’t her own invaded. She felt her eyes flick to the back of her head, like she was watching within her own brain something that wasn’t there.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
A voice whispered, urged. And in her mind, she saw Weylyn’s hand shoot out and rip straight through Ev’s chest.
It felt too detailed to be a stray thought and she gasped, forcing it out of her own mind.
As quickly as it had invaded, it left.
Bryson’s feet moved by their own volition, stomping across the space just as Ev jerked backwards. Weylyn took a step, lifted his arm, and she knew, somehow she knew that he was trying to make those thoughts he projected into her mind come true.
But Bryson wouldn’t let them.
Wind propelled her forward faster as she put herself in between them. Her chest heaved with a fearful breath. The closer Weylyn got to her, the clearer his feral gaze became. He was inches away from the killing blow, and she saw him reel back at the sight of her in front him. Even so, her magic lashed out, her instincts screaming at her to protect Everette with all that she had.
The wind pushed Weylyn backwards, just as his hand closed around the front of her shirt and tightened. Her eyes widened as the force of the wind combined with his hold on her, sent them both flying backwards.
They fell to the ground, Bryson sprawled across his chest. Almost immediately, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, even as their chests pressed together with every breathless heave.
Up close, his details imprinted into her soul. His every pane, the slight curve on the ridge of his nose, the well-groomed way he kept his mustache and beard. That vicious smile. The curve of every lash. The golden eyes that suddenly flicked white...
The impact of another vision slammed into her. It consumed her down to every single particle. It reeled her in, drowning her within her own mind. So vivid, so real. It felt like she could almost touch it. Touch him. In the vision, they were in the same position they were now, with far less clothing.
