Page 100 of Taloned Heart

The thought echoed through her head over and over again. A shadow passed over the sun, and she heard Abraxas’s angry roar as the gates opened and trebuchets were shoved outside. She turned her attention toward those, knowing already that there were the balls covered in acid that would hurt her children. They’d hurt Abraxas.

Her perfect, sweet dragonlings would wear scars for the rest of their lives if the elves let those acid covered balls fly. And she refused to see that happen.

The elf she’d previously been fighting flew at her. She dodged, turning on her heel and ducking underneath his blade until she was suddenly behind him with her arm wrapped around his chest. She dragged his back to her heart, pressed her lips against his ear and whispered, “You wanted them to feel your pain, but first you should feel theirs.”

Magic pulsed at his back and he fell onto his knees, clutching his head as he screamed. All those memories. All thrust into his mind so he could see what the elves had done to the humans. How many hundreds of years had been wasted as they tormented each other over and over again.

Lore did not look at him again. She raced through the courtyard, leaping over fallen soldiers and rolling over bent backs. She shoved her way past countless enemies who raised their swords but were stopped by her own people.

They’d seen where she was going. The humans knew what she was trying to stop, and many of the magical creatures knew exactly what would happen if those acid balls flew.

And then she was trapped. Trapped and stuck between walls of people fighting and she couldn’t...

She could.

Lore was a goddess reborn, and she’d be damned if those acid balls would fly. Words slipped from her tongue, ancient spells from her mother and mothers before. And in those words was power that lit those acid balls on fire long before they reached the slings that would let them fly. Burning acid sparked off them and flung onto the elves nearby. Their armor sizzled, and then they screamed, tearing at the molten metal that dripped onto their pristine flesh.

It was... not what she wanted to do. None of this was. Her first real battle had felt so right. She’d wanted to destroy the Umbral Soldiers and everyone that ever came near the people she loved.

But standing in the middle of this battlefield, she realized these people were part of her as well. These were two sides of her soul, fighting and tearing and killing. Two sides that could never get along, no matter how hard she had tried to be part of them.

Algor’s laughing shout echoed nearby, and she turned to see the dwarven king wielding double axes. He fought with a fluid grace she wouldn’t have thought possible from a man like him. He leapt through the air and those axes flew out of his hands, hitting heads and chests and anything else that stood in his way. And then when he opened his hand, they flew right back into his palm. There were gloves on his hands and she wondered...

He did it again, the axe flying through the air and then back. Magnets? Had the dwarves figured out how to battle with high-powered magnets?

But then another cry echoed, and she turned to see Beauty and Zephyr fighting together. The damned young man was supposed to stay back with Lindon, but she had known he wouldn’t stay there. Not when his people were fighting.

She kept him safe, though. Beauty moved with the natural grace of a woman who had learned how to fight her entire life. She’d built back the muscle and bulk that she’d lost after Margaret had taken over Tenebrous, and now she moved with a power that few could fight against. Certainly not any elf.

And behind her, Zephyr was swift and efficient. His sword bit out at anyone who came near them, his hand on Beauty’s back as she whirled around him with her great sword flashing.

The dragons thundered over their heads, keeping everyone safe from overhead attacks, and it was... working. All of this was right. This was exactly how it was supposed to go and still her stomach twisted. Because her gut said this would not end well. It would not end at all if she didn’t hurry and do... something.

But what?

Then she noticed movement on one of the farthest walls. It was a small haven between the three dragons that flashed from wall to wall. A haven where a Darkveil elf slipped into a secret entrance to the castle.

Margaret wasn’t getting away that easily. She would not run and leave all her elves to the slaughter like the coward she was.

Anger flashed heavy and hot in her chest, and Lore thought for a moment that maybe she’d taken on some of Abraxas’s qualities, because she sure felt like she could breathe fire right now.

Her people would take care of this army without her. Lore had to hunt an elf.

CHAPTER39

Abraxas watched Lore slip away into the castle and his gut churned. He knew this was a trap. Why couldn’t she see this? It was so clear to him that Margaret was going to use whatever cards she could pull to get them apart.

The last time it had worked. Lore had died and everything had fallen apart. Sure, they’d all won the war, but everything else had shattered in the wake of his darling, wonderful mate. And if Margaret thought she was going to make a repeat of that damned moment, then he would make sure that she was stopped.

Abraxas landed hard on the edge of the castle, scrabbling with his claws to haul at least half of his body up onto the top of it.

“Hyperion,” he barked out, his eyes catching on his sons. “Keep the elves off the wall. I’m going after your mother.”

His son nodded, and he saw the rage blooming again in his emerald eyes. Hyperion was enjoying himself, just like a true dragon should. His son was ready to beat at the world and rage with his flames until it was all ash at his feet. And then he knew without a doubt that Hyperion would take his time to make sure that green things grew upon the graves of those who fought against him.

Turning in the other direction, he locked eyes with Nyx. “Make sure the others stay alive,” he snarled, glancing down into the courtyard where their people were fighting for their lives.

He’d hoped...

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