Page 99 of Taloned Heart

“How many deaths do you wish for?” He peered down at her and nodded toward where Hyperion had already latched himself to the wall.

Their son was fierce in his anger. He could sense those who had caused his forests pain, and in that, his anger was great. He was no longer the young man who had made them laugh, but an avenging dragon who devoured all those who had wronged him. Nyx banked low over the castle and opened her mouth wide. Rivers flowed out of her, pouring down the steps of the castle towers and sweeping elves down into the courtyard below.

It would be a slaughter. There would be so many dead on both sides. Though her people had wished for such a thing. They had wanted this to be over with quickly. They had desired to see an end to all this.

But... Did Lore want that many people to die?

She sighed and pulled her helm over her head. Her hair disappeared into the smooth metal and she could feel it molding to her features, the spells in it forcing the metal to fit better.

It did not obscure her vision, but it made all of this so much more real.

She was going to wade into that battle, and she was going to end this quickly.

Abraxas spread his wing wide around her, creating a cocoon for the both of them. He leaned down and nudged her with his nose. “You will stay well, my mate. You will stay alive for me and I will never be far from your side.”

“I won’t leave you this time.” She grinned up at him. “But I’ve already died, my dragon. It is you I worry about now.”

“Worrying about a dragon? You’re losing your edge, elf.” He winked at her before taking off. His massive form soared over her head with so much ease, it was like he was part of the wind.

She watched him join his children in clearing out the walls of the castle. They’d all planned this, knowing that arrows from the walls would be their greatest threats. And the dragons were the best way to keep those safe. If they could trap Margaret and her people inside the castle, then they could hunt them down. Control the battle.

This would not be like the last time. They would not fight with just magic, they were going to fight with skill.

Lore strode toward the forest’s edge, where an elderly figure waited for her. Lindon and his bird would stay out of the fight until she called upon them.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. “I thought you’d give them a little more time before you wanted to cast this spell.”

“I remember how to cast it,” she hissed. “And now is not the time. We’ll let them prove themselves for a bit longer before we call in the reinforcements.”

“That was an impressive speech,” he called after her as she stalked past. “Almost spoken like a real goddess.”

She flipped him a crude sign with her fingers before she drew her sword. The long, thin metal gleamed in the sunlight. No one would stand in her way. She wanted all of her people to be... What? She didn’t know. Lore wanted them happy and alive and well and living their lives without her.

The first elf that lunged at her wore full armor. It was easy to dodge their attack and slip her blade between their ribs. Bright red blood splashed out over the dark metal before the elf stumbled and then fell.

Again and again she fought until her silver armor was coated with splashes of blood. She never attacked someone unless they attacked her first. She never killed any elf who did not beg for their end on her blade.

And then the first elf without a helmet attacked her. She watched the man’s face as he tried his best, but there wasn’t rage or hate on his features. It was fear.

He was afraid to attack her, and he was still doing it. Why? Why would he fight her when he knew he wouldn’t win?

Linking their swords, she dragged him closer to her and forced him to look her in her eyes. “Why?” she hissed. “Why are you fighting?”

“For the elves,” he snarled back.

But his eyes were wrong. His face was wrong. He was terrified of her and he was still fighting andwhy was he still fighting?

She threw him off her. Their swords screamed against each other as he stumbled back before catching himself. His hair was light for an elf, not quite like a Silverfell, but perhaps another clan that had come from the forests. The elf put his hand on the ground, breathing hard and shaking his head as he slowly stood back up and raised his sword. Ready for battle. Ready to fight.

Lore shook her head and frowned. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I will protect our people.”

“You don’t have to fight me. I don’t want the elves to die, but I don’t want anyone else to suffer.”

He bared his teeth in anger. “They enslaved us. They tortured us. They will know the same pain.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Everyone wanted everyone else to feel the same pain they had gone through. And she could make them feel that, if that’s really what they wanted.

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