Page 95 of Of Kings and Thieves

Col’s arm tightened around me, pulling me close against his side.

Melion shifted, the change happening rapidly and without warning. His eyes glowed crimson, fangs bared in a snarl. He launched himself at where we had last seen Moredanea, claws outstretched. She shrieked, and then the shadows parted to reveal the half-siren.

He had missed, but he was turning around for another attempt. On his way, he tore out the throat of one of the Deviants. Moredanea’s eyes flashed with rage, and she pointed a long, bony finger at Melion and spat out an incantation. A blast of purple fire shot from her hands, striking him in the chest. The force of the impact threw him backward. He flew across the room with a howl of pain, smashing into the stone wall. His body crumpled to the floor, unmoving.

I rushed to his side, kneeling beside his prone form. His chest rose and fell shallowly, but his eyes remained closed. Blood trickled from his ears and nose. I pressed my hands to the gaping wound in his chest, attempting to stem the flow of blood.

A roar of anger drew my attention. Col was charging Moredanea, wielding his borrowed sword. She deflected his attacks with magic, forcing him to duck behind a table. The glass and books on top exploded and caught fire. Killian shouted in another language, raised his staff and brought it down. Moredanea did the same with her own staff.

A deafening crack split the air. Killian flew backward, crashing into Silvius behind him. They slammed into a wall, bringing down a glittering tapestry in a cloud of dust, their motionless bodies half-buried beneath the rubble.

While Killian had been fighting Moredanea, Col had taken down the second Deviant.

Exhaustion and injuries had taken their toll on us all. Moredanea, fueled by her rage and dark magic, remained largely unscathed.

Col staggered to his feet, breathing heavily. Blood dripped down his face from a fresh cut on his cheek. Our eyes met across the room, a silent understanding passing between us that didn’t need the bond. We could not allow Moredanea to defeat us, or escape.

Melion groaned, and I placed his hand over his wound so he could help staunch the blood. Whatever magic resided in him must have involved healing at a fast rate because the flow of blood was already lessening.

Drawing my sword, I rose and joined Col. Moredanea’s grin faded, eyes narrowing. Dark magic swirled around the orb at the tip of her staff.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Andris,” Moredanea said, fear and anger warring in her tone. I glimpsed a sword at her hip before Col blocked my view. Bloodsong. The bitch had taken it for herself.

Col laughed humorlessly. “Life is meaningless in half measures, Moredanea. Mere survival isn’t enough.”

“I suppose you’ll never get the chance to find out if that’s true,” Moredanea spat. “I’d planned something special for your precious Ironguard. But now you’re here, we’ll adjust the festivities.”

Her gaze bored into us, cunning and cruel, assured of her victory. But there was a frantic edge to her eyes now, desperate like a cornered beast. She hadn’t expected this confrontation, and her carefully laid plans were crumbling around her.

I glanced at Killian, at Silvius, unmoving and possibly dead, and then my gaze settled on Col.

But instead of doing anything to him, Moredanea turned to me. And suddenly, my body erupted in excruciating pain. I was lifted into the air, my limbs stretched out and back arched. I screamed as I floated, unable to move or to even twist in agony.

“No!” Col tried to grab me, but Moredanea blasted him away. He hit a wooden table and rolled over it. I was dropped to the ground, my head hitting the cold stone floor. The breath was knocked out of me, though the pain had vanished for now.

Col rose and hurled a dagger at Moredanea. She knocked it away with her staff and turned her wrath on Col again, knocking him back as if a troll had swung a club at him. Col flew into the wall and fell into a heap onto Killian and Silvius.

I screamed for him, struggled to rise. Moredanea marched over to me. “I don’t know why Andris chose you, or what role you believe is yours. But I think you should watch while your king learns his folly tonight.” She smiled. “Perhaps you will teach him. I promised you and him what would happen if you crossed me.”

She hit me with the tip of her staff, driving it into my belly. Though the end was blunt and did not penetrate my body, it felt as though she had speared me through. I screamed, pinned to the floor, but there was no blood, only agony. She released her hold on the staff, leaving it standing upright on me by magic. The pain burned through me like nothing ever had before.

I tugged at the staff, but the pain only intensified. As my vision blurred, I saw Col stir.

He tried to crawl toward me, but Moredanea knocked him back again. And then she raised her arms and catapulted Col toward the high ceiling. Stone and dust rained down as he struck, and I screamed not in agony but in fear.

And yet, the beating continued.

Every time Moredanea knocked Col to the floor or bounced him against the ceiling, I thought that would be the end of him. But he continued fighting, and at one point he grabbed a chair and managed to hurl it at her before she hit him again. But I knew he couldn’t take much more.

When an audible snap came from his arm, Moredanea relented, stalking over to stand over Col as if deciding what to do to him next.

My breath was coming in gasps and I could barely see straight through the pain. But I turned my head toward Moredanea and found one last thread of coherence. One last bit of strength.

And I began to sing.

The tears fell down my face as it first came in halting gasps, the lyrics I had invented and practiced every day alone in my room. And then I found my breath and sang louder.

As my song intensified, Moredanea frowned at me in confusion, then fear flickered across her features.

---