Page 90 of The War of Wings
I knew how to get under Castemont’s skin. Malosym couldn’t possibly be much different. “He told us how you’re a fucking coward, but I already knew that.”
Three shots of blue flame came flying in my direction, one after the other, Aegrabane deflecting each one. He was just steps away. “I could kill him if I wanted to.”
“You were unsuccessful last night,” I jeered, and I lunged for him, Aegrabane sailing through the air before a bolt of power hit the hilt and knocked it from my grip.
But I was faster than he thought, and with Aegrabane on the ground, I launched myself at Malosym. My shoulder caught him in the chest, and he heaved as I took him to the ground. He was too weak to use his powers but still inhumanly strong.Every punch I threw was blocked by hands moving so much faster than I’d anticipated.Fuck.I managed to land one punch, square in his nose, before he grabbed hold of me.
With his hands locked around my biceps, he threw me off him and flipped me to the ground before a fist landed square in my jaw. Stars swam in my vision as the barrage continued, each blow propelled by some invisible strength. The metallic tang of blood hit my tongue.
He was going to kill me. He was going to beat me to death in the streets of Araqina. I figured I’d die by Malosym’s hand, but I didn’t think it would be quite so literal.
Obitus must have felt my distress echoing down our connection, because I heard his screech. But it was far off. Malosym would kill me before he got here.
I tried to conjure an image of Petra among the black spots that were crowding my vision, tried to see her face in the blur, but I couldn’t. I just wanted to see her one more time. My brain must’ve been too rattled in my skull, growing worse with every blow Malosym landed to my face.
Until he suddenly fell forward.
Malosym’s grip loosened just long enough for me to roll from beneath him and see the arrow jutting from the center of his back. He was writhing on the street, trying to reach over his shoulder to pluck the arrow from where it protruded from his spine.
I whipped around, my eyes scanning the shadows and landing on a cloaked figure standing against a darkened building. Who was that? Who just shot Malosym with an arrow?
But the sound of that arrow clattering to the cobblestones pulled my attention back. The animalistic smile on Malosym’s face sent a chill racing up my spine, and he charged for me. I raised my fists, ready to go down with a fight, but before I could swing, Malosym hit the ground again.
Miles had come from behind me, his movements feral as he pinned Malosym down, the sound of rattling chainsmingling with the huffs and heaves of the men before me. Before I knew it, Malosym’s wrists were encircled with chains he fought to break, grunting and thrashing.
He was weak now. Weak enough to restrain.
My brother’s eyes were stuck on the monster of a man pinned beneath him. His gritted teeth were bared, his breaths heaving as if it had taken everything in him to bring Malosym to the ground.
I could tell this was Miles fighting back. This was Miles railing against Malosym’s power inside him.
With a silent agreement beneath a lightening sky, we dragged him through the streets, to the back side of the castle, and at the direction of a trio of guards, straight for the dungeon.
Few things in my life had ever felt as good as throwing a chained Malosym into a cell, locking the door, and walking away. But I knew handing him over to Petra would feel even better.
I wanted to question Miles. I wanted to ask him if he’d known, if he’d felt Malosym nearing. But we remained silent as we traversed the corridors. I was expecting at least a few people to be left, broken and bloodied, waiting for Petra to heal them. What I saw was an empty ballroom, save for Petra and Cielle. She’d healed everyone.
Saints-fucking-damn it, I loved her.
“I’m fine,” Cielle said quietly, her eyes locked on Miles.
Petra gasped and rushed toward me, pulling at a bandage she had wrapped around her hand. “What the fuck happened?” she asked, her eyes frantically checking over my face. My face that I’d forgotten was beaten to a fucking pulp.
It was Miles who spoke. “Malosym.”
Petra’s movements froze, her stare moving from me to Miles. “What do you mean?” Absentmindedly, Petra’s bloodied palm found my cheek. As I felt my wounds pull together again and the pooled blood drain from my face, as my eyes opened fully and my nose snapped back into place, I stared down at thewoman I loved and granted her the greatest gift I could ever give her. “We captured him. He’s in a cell below the castle right now.”
“You did what?” she whispered, her brows upturned in disbelief.
“We captured him,” I repeated, my eyes boring into hers.
Petra’s eyes closed for a moment, a silent prayer passing over her lips. A familiar gleam of steely determination was there when she opened her eyes again, but only for a split second before they softened into something else. Something I’d never seen before. The thrill I’d felt at hand delivering Malosym straight to her was gone, replaced by the icy feeling of dread.
“What?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, blinking away that look in her eyes, and replacing it with determination again. “I love you,” she murmured, pulling me down to kiss her. The kiss was short, no more than a few seconds, but it was deep, charged with emotions I didn’t even have a name for. But before I could label them, she pulled away.
She was happy we’d captured him. That was all. She was overwhelmed. That look in her eyes was nothing but triumph. Right?
