Page 6 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“Ronan!”

Before the sound of his name registered, two thoughts occurred to him almost simultaneously.Isn’t dying supposed to hurtandshouldn’t death be quieter?Then the shout came again, this time tinged with a mix of fury and exasperation.

“Ronan,move!”

His mind must be going. Instead of his life flashing before his eyes, he was hearing people he loved yell at him. Or perhaps thatwashis life flashing through his mind. It was certainly a common enough occurrence. He’d been known to piss the people he loved off at every turn. Most of the time on purpose. If the Mother intended on taking him to task for it, he’d simply explain aggravation was the best form of motivation, and he was all about results. Surely, she couldn’t argue with that.

Pleased with his logic—especially during what he assumed was a glorious death—he was only vaguely aware of the third shout.

“Elder’s weeping dick, Ronan. Are you deaf? I said MOVE!”

Ah, Effie. She always had been filled with fire. She’d tried to dull her flame, but it had always been there, shining—

Something collided with his side, sending him toppling over. Ronan finally risked opening his eyes, blinking a few times as he tried to make sense of the world around him.

It was not all gossamer clouds and ethereal music as he’d expected. But it didn’t resemble the underground cavern he’d spent his last waking moments in either. Somewhere between Lukas’s attack and his heart’s final prayer, reality shifted.

Surelythiswasn’t the afterlife.

He must have spoken aloud because a flushed and very irritated Effie barked, “It isn’t. Because you’re not dead, Ronan. Give me and my gift some credit.”

Ronan lifted a hand to his throbbing temple. He would have sworn he’d faced his final moment, that he’d slipped away with the tickle of the fire’s heat blazing in his lungs, his nose filled with the acrid tang of burnt flesh. He gave a cursory sniff. All he scented now was a hint of the sewers still clinging to his clothing.

Huh.

His poor overwhelmed mind simply could not make sense of this unexpected turn of events. He’d never considered a rescue. That his spur-of-the-moment decision would register as an important enough event to catapult one of the Keepers—the most renowned Keeper—into a vision.

But that’s what happened because Effie wasn’t just here—she’d been prepared for battle. And she wasn’t alone. Her mate, Lucian, was mercilessly cutting down those stupid enough to get in range of his sword. Anytime someone stepped too close, a tendril of smoke would whip out and slice them in two. An oval of displaced air that could only be a portal shimmered beside him, explaining how he, Effie, and several others Ronan didn’t recognize had made it here in the nick of time.

All of this Ronan took in in a matter of seconds. Glancing to his left, where he’d been standing before Effie so unceremoniously shoved him out of the way, stood an irate Lukas. Whatever Fire he’d been channeling was no longer in his control. Rather, it seemed to have turned against him. Now it ringed him, locking him in a fiery cage. The shackles at his wrists explained the expression on his face. Nullifiers. Without access to his gifts, he was at the mercy of the flames just as much as the next person. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you planning on participating in your rescue?” She tossed him a double-headed axe only years of reflex helped him catch.

“Who says I wanted to be rescued?”

Something dark flashed in Effie’s sapphire gaze, but there wasn’t time to explore it before a woman flung herself at him, clawing him with her nails as she attempted to climb him like he was a fucking tree. Ronan twisted, throwing her off and adjusting his hold on the weapon in preparation for the next attacker.

Things had definitely not gone to plan, but he was nothing if not adaptable. And Ronan—whether acting as Shield or Butcher—was always up for a fight.

He began fighting in earnest then, experiencing a sort of relieved euphoria that was at complete odds with what he’d been feeling at the start of the evening. But now was not the time to entertain questions such as:why do I feel relieved at all when I’d failed in my mission?Ronan was hardly inclined to decipher his feelings on an ordinary day, let alone amidst battle, so he didn’t. Instead, he fought until only Nightshade remained.

Wiping his blade clean, he rounded on the man, smirking as he drawled, “Guess you’re really regretting your life’s decisions right about now.”

Lukas sneered. “I regret nothing,Shield.”

“And yet you hide here in the shadows like a coward.”

“Hide? I consider it surviving, but then I suppose you would see it that way. At least, I’ve never had to lie about who I am.”

“I didn’t take you for a hypocrite, Nightshade.”

“Hypocrite? That’s rich coming from you.”

“What else would you call wearing a false face?”

“A false face is hardly the same as a false name. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Two sides of the same coin.”

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