Page 107 of Taloned Heart

She pushed him aside, and every time he tried to grab her, he struck a shield of power around her.

Lore ignored the man’s shouts and threats. She tilted her head and met Zephyr’s gaze. Beauty’s father also crouched beside the young man, his hand over Zephyr’s heart that should have been beating.

“What did you do to him?” Beauty’s father asked.

She stroked a strand of hair off of Zephyr’s forehead. “I kept him.”

And then she slammed both her hands down on the center of his chest, magic and healing energy pouring into him, slicing through his body just as sure as the blade that had cut through him. Zephyr seized, his eyes widening as his heart suddenly thundered in his chest again. He breathed in, sucking in a hissing gasp of pain and then... Then he relaxed. He settled down against the ground, breathing hard and staring up at her as though she really was the goddess they called her.

Beauty staggered to their sides, falling onto her knees with a keening cry. Then Zephyr sat up, gathering her into his arms and pressing her against his suddenly beating heart as he stared at Lore over Beauty’s shoulder. Shock and maybe... horror were in those eyes.

What had she done? His gaze seemed to ask. What madness was this that she could deny death itself?

Lore nodded at him and then jerked her chin toward Beauty. He had more pressing issues right now than asking questions he didn’t want answers to.

The dwarves were suddenly there with her. They shouldered aside the humans who tried to stop them, cursing back at the mortals who dared yell at them, while they all grabbed at Lore’s arms. Making her stand and drawing her to their king, who somehow was still alive.

Unlike the humans, the dwarves didn’t hesitate. They pulled her to Algor’s side with whispered praises and pleas for her to save him. To bestow upon them the gift they had given the humans, for surely they were worthy of such praise after the battle they had fought.

And this was the difference, she realized. The humans saw her as a nightmare, a villain in their story that she would surely become. The dwarves saw her as a goddess, as someone who had come to save them all.

As she knelt beside Algor, passed her hand over his eye and pressed down into the empty socket, she realized she wanted to be neither of these people. She’d never wanted to be a goddess or a villain. They had needed her to be those things and now her story would forever be told by two kinds of people whose mouths would be impossible to control.

Staring down at Algor, though, she thought she’d prefer to be the goddess.

“Honored dwarf,” she said. “Your kind has given me more gifts than I have ever received in my life. You were my friends, my family, and now my soldiers in a war you did not need to fight in.”

His other eye opened under her palm, widening as he realized who hovered over him and that it was not death who was ready to greet him.

“I give you what gift I can,” she whispered, pulling him upright and keeping her hand over his eye. “You, dwarven king, are more than this world deserves. You and your people will continue to be that because the dwarves have always been special.” Tears pricked her vision, turning him blurry. “The last thing I can do is give you this back.”

And then she moved her hand. The dwarves around her gasped, and Algor stared at her with two eyes. One normal, brown eye, and another that looked like glass containing the very stars inside it.

“I cannot regrow what you have lost,” she whispered. “But I can let you see.”

“My goddess.” Algor’s hands shook as he reached up and held her hand in his. “You saved my life.”

“You saved mine.” She drew his hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “See to your people, greatest king that the dwarves have ever seen.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. She saw the determination blooming in his eyes as he stood and flexed his hands before thrusting them above his head. The dwarves shouted out their victory, and Algor directed them to return to the battlefield to seek any friends who still needed help. If there were elves who had fought with Margaret, bring them to the castle. Do not harm them.

Lore had never been more proud to stand beside a king than she did at this moment. She patted his shoulder and leaned down to say, “There are a few more people I need to save.”

“Go get your dragons.”

She’d kept them alive for too long. Far too long. They were suffering, and they needed her, and she was tired of choosing the kingdom over her family.

Lore could feel them. They’d all gathered together around Abraxas. Her children, wounded and battered, but alive well enough. They’d somehow survived the acid and the fires and the arrows. Though they would hold those scars for the rest of their lives. She had not spared them that.

Draven was with them. She launched herself over the wall and landed on the dirt behind the castle and saw her friend standing at attention in front of them. He was dropped low, in a position that said he was ready to fight anyone who dared come near those he cared about. The last remaining dragons were under the protection of the Ashen Deep.

And then she saw a ring of more elves. Ashen Deep, who had surrounded her family with grimdags bared and eyes watching for any movement that might approach.

They had protected her family.

Her people. Elves who saw her for what she was. They had protected her family.

Draven noticed her first and immediately snapped to attention. He put his grimdag away and strode toward her, his face lined with worry. “We’ve done all we can, but he’s...”

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