Page 114 of Tricky Princess
“Oh, I will have you, and you will submit—”
“Like your husband?” Ellea interrupted. “He did find me, you know. And he helped kill most of your precious little army.”
Another crack of lightning lit up the darkening sky as a gust of cold wind picked up the strands of hairs escaping her braids. Her mother glanced back to where Cato and Ros were battling. Her demon prince blocked an onslaught of electricity with his great sword. Its dark center swallowed the light like it was hungry for it. Each block, each counter-move, got him closer and closer to capturing her father. “Lies,” Cerce hissed, turning as the three Elleas closed in. “He cannot go against me.”
“He told me the truth, how you caught him, tricked him.”
Cerce threw her magic at one of the Elleas, but nothing happened.
“I tricked a great trickster, and soon I will have two in my command.”
“Never.” Ellea said it with so much certainty that she could feel it in her bones.
The three of them pounced, zigzagging and blocking Cerce’s magic. Ellea was so close; she only needed to get the magical cuffs Azzy had given her around the witch’s wrists.
Cerce turned, grasping Ellea by the throat—the real Ellea.
“Keep trying, dear daughter,” she breathed, and her putrid scent washed over her, making her gag. “You should submit to the vision we’ve always had.”
“There’s a new vision, Cerce,” Ellea hissed as her throat was crushed. “You’re not involved in it.”
“You are as dumb now as you were as a child. You cannot win this. I have seen it; I have worked so hard to accomplish total destruction. It is only a matter of time before us godly beings will rule this realm once again.”
Ellea fought off the spots of black clouding her vision. Before she left, Azzy had told her about a prophecy given to him by Loki himself.
“You. Will. Never. Be. A. God.” Ellea panted as her vision began to fade.
“I don’t need you anymore,” Cerce bellowed, shaking Ellea’s body.
How did she become so strong?
“I should have killed you in the crib, you useless—”
She froze, her words sticking in her throat. She was frozen in time. When Ellea’s breath came a little easier, she turned slightly, seeing Cato with his hand out and eyes glowing. He was panting, and Ros moved toward her slowly.
“Sometimes I wish you had, but not anymore,” Ellea said, turning to look into her mother’s eyes that grew wide with shock. There was no stopping her, no way to claim vengeance without the worry that her mother would try again. Something was pushing her to a new plan, one that meant not everyone was getting out of this alive. Grabbing the sword at her back, Ellea put as much hate and regret into her face as she could. She wanted it to be the last thing the evil woman would see—well, almost the last. She smirked, proving that she wasn’t broken; she was whole and her mother was nothing. With a turn of her arm, she drove the sword through Cerce’s heart.
Time righted itself as a short scream rang through the street. Ellea crashed to the ground as her mother’s lifeless hand released her throat and grabbed at the sword buried in her chest.
Ellea gasped for air, scurrying back as death quickly stole Cerce away. Her eyes were as glassy and dark as they had been when she was alive. As Ellea looked upon the husk of a witch, she felt nothing but sweet relief. It was over. They could get her father and move on.
Movement caught her eye as she looked over at Ros.
No, no, don’t—
She hurried to stand, but her legs gave out. She crawled to him. Every slide of her knee, every press of gravel into her palm forced her to wonder how much of this was Cerce pulling the strings. Her father reached for her with his hand that wasn’t clutching at his chest, and Ellea couldn’t stop the sob that wracked her as she reached for him too.
“No,” she croaked, cradling his head in her lap. “She’s dead; I killed her, not you. You get to live.”
Gray met gray as they stared into each other’s eyes. Nothing could give her back the years they’d lost, but they had time. She could learn to forgive him. Learn who he was without her.
“I don’t,” he breathed out. “I couldn’t let her take you, and it was worth the cost.”
His eyes closed for a moment, his body heaving as the blood vow took hold, tearing apart his body. Ellea shook him; she had read about the consequences, had even looked for a way out of them, but nothing could free him from such a curse, such a promise.
“Stay. I’ll forgive you.” She sobbed harder as he cried out in pain, and Ros rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll try and forgive you.”
Ellea cursed the Gods and begged for a way out. Tears fell down her face as her father’s electric eyes opened to look at her. He reached a twitching hand for her, wiping at her tears as his body calmed. Her parents had never touched her so gently, so lovingly. Somehow, she didn’t jerk away from him. She leaned into it, begging again for more time. The lightning in his eyes began to flicker.
