Page 128 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
We become bogged down in the crush of bodies as wild fae charge down streets and into this main thoroughfare to meet us. I can barely swing my sword. I sheathe it, favoring my dagger. It plunges into chests and guts again and again, each adversary hardly hitting the ground at my feet before another rushes in to take their place. I manage to take a few small steps over piling bodies with each kill I make.
Hawthorne pants to my left, long streaks of blood running down his face, his eyes keenly focused on his next victim. That gentle, kind man turns into someone else during the heat of a battle. Silvan and Jasper work in unison at my other side, moving like they are locked in an intricate dance together, quickly dispatching the same target before moving on to the next.
I glance up and my heart sinks. This boulevard leads right to the palace, but it is completely choked with enemies. I don’t have time for this.Keira is up there and alone.
An impotent rage fills me.
I see red.
My magic flares with my need to save her. Some barrier deep within erupts while my mate bond pulses intensely. It is like a key is turned in a lock within me, opening up a new part of my soul that is neither mine nor hers, but ours for the taking. All I understand is that my power amplifies tenfold. That it is because we accepted our mate bond. I use the explosive force of it all at once, channeling it into my air magic and my ability to compel, to control the muscles of others.
One moment I am in a crush of bodies. The next, my enemies are being tossed through the air like ragdolls, opening up a path right through the heart of the crowd toward the palace.
Their bodies shatter from the inside as their blood boils and their muscles fly apart, blood, limbs and viscera spraying outward with force.
I walk through that gruesome path, moisture falling upon me like rain and bones crunching beneath my boots. I don’t even have to raise a blade.
Enemies a hundred feet away all drop their weapons, frozen in place by my magic, waiting for my justice. When I reach them, as I walk past, they explode just like the others in my range. I don’t even spare a glance at the fae who dared to take up arms against me. Who revolted against this lawful election.
This pattern goes on and on, all the way up the main highway to the foot of the palace. The people who betrayed me, betrayed my queen, they die in waves of crimson, while my loyalists stroll through behind me. It isn’t until we reach the siege line of the Spring army surrounding the foot of the palace that this feat of magic fails me, leaving me shaking like a boy in the depths of his first battle.
The fighting is at its most intense here: our soldiers pushing forward in a methodical attack and Titania’s warriors attempting to hold them back. The wall of bodies is so thick, there is no chance of me penetrating through, not without breaking our own line first.
It is absolute chaos, a dozen warriors deep, the ground covered in the dead or the injured trying to crawl away from the boots that trample them. The fae in the middle stand upon a pile of the fallen, giving them the illusion of being much taller than the rest. Swords and axes thrash wildly, swooping up then swinging back down, scattering crimson droplets.
The screams and guttural cries erupting from them are almost as bad as the smell—the iron tang of spilled blood mixed with the urine and worse of those who soiled themselves in their last moments.
There is no dignity in death, and less in war.
Many of our soldiers have made it through the unorganized ranks of our enemies, charging up the multiple staircases that lead to the entrances of the palace. They choke those spaces, mingling with more of Titania’s forces and fighting their way to doors clogged with defenders.
“There’s no way we are getting through that this side of sunrise,” Jasper grumbles as he stops at my side, pointing with his sword.
“Those of us who can base jump will make it over,” Silvan growls. “Have you remembered what I taught you, Jasper?”
“There is not enough fucking time,” I snap, my eyes straining upward, toward the golden glint of cages at the highest point of the palace, knowing Keira suffers within one. That Drake and Sasha are there alongside her.
My eye is drawn back to the fighting on the ground. Thick shadows billow from a central point before us, curling and pouring out of two obscured figures with clasped hands. Midnight rears up in a massive, thrashing tidal wave dozens of feet tall, then crashes down over the front line where the two armies clash.
Truth Templars and Wildrose Guards clutch at their throats, tearing at the flesh with their fingernails until blood seeps down their necks, as tendrils of darkness wrap around them and choke the life out of them. Hundreds fall to the ground, dead, while my forces remain untouched.
My mouth dries as the forms of Belladonna and Valentine resolve out of the inky shroud, the source of those shadows. Icannot believe I once thought I could win in a duel to the death against them.
There is a pause in the fighting as every single soldier reels from the display of magic that effectively took out an entire regiment, then enemy forces flood down the staircases of the palace to replenish the fallen ranks.
In the brief moments of calm, the Mistress and Master of the Assassins of Belladonna lead their force through the barricade. They base jump over the top of the wall of bodies and friendly soldiers, their indigo robes billowing around them. Some of the Truth Templars leap up on platforms of hardened air to meet them as they join the fight, but it is not a common skill in my court.
The assassins quickly scale the very walls of the palace, completely ignoring the staircases, a feat my regiment is not magically equipped to follow. Those shadows erupt from them again and again, causing a constant rain of Wildrose Guards to fall from windows and parapets, but there are always more to take their place. To choke up any small entry point into the palace.
On the open space of a battlefield, Belladonna and Valentine’s ability would be unstoppable, especially if they penetrated enemy ranks. Against the fortifications of a palace, it is limited by the need for the shadows to probe and seek out its victims. To sort friend from foe in chaos. It is still enough to cause a cold sweat to erupt across my skin. I thank the gods they fight on my side.
My heart pounds savagely as I scan the carnage for a way in formytask force, as the two sides clash again with renewed vigor. Only moments have passed, but the enemy line is just as strong again, like the assassins were never here.
Then my eyes snag on the dragons.
Some fly over the top of the enemy line, blasting their breaths of flame or poison over any concentrated pockets of fighters they find. Others clamp their massive jaws over the heads and shoulders of fae, picking them off the battlefield one at a time and dropping them from a height. My fae who ride on their backs shoot their magic into the fray below.
“I hope you assholes aren’t afraid of dragons,” I toss over my shoulder toward my most loyal followers, and their lips split into manic, blood-splattered grins.
