Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
“Regroup,” I order, determined to save as many as possible. “Shield formation.”
“Are you sure?” Feirge asks in that sweetly mocking way of hers.
We’re down three, but the strength of the squad is in the whole, not the individual. We will hold this pass, even in this godsforsaken rain.
“Positive. Let’s go.”
There is no goddess more wrathful than Dunne. Entering Her temple will slice the soul from any attendant who has shunned Her grace.
—Major Rorilee’s Guide to Appeasing the Gods, Second Edition
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
VIOLET
Rain splatters against my forehead as Theophanie’s dagger scrapes the skin of my throat, but I hold fast and keep my eyes on her. My mind flips through every possible way to get out of this hold alive, and I settle on the simplest, but it’s a risk. “My friends will continue to fight long after I meet Malek, and I’ll meet him with my soul intact. Do your worst.”
The red in her eyes pulses as surprise ripples across her face, and she lifts the blade just enough to give me the inches I need.
This is going to hurt.
I slam my forehead straight into her nose. Bone crunches as her head snaps back, her body rolling with it. The second her weight shifts, I yank my right knee to my chest and kick up as hard as I possibly can, catching her in the pit of her arm and breaking her grip on my wrists.
“Shit!” she shrieks, then uses her speed to appear twenty-five feet to my left, clutching her nose. “That’s never going to straighten out!”
I rock to my feet.
“You think I won’t do it—take your life.” She studies me with a malice she’d previously lacked and draws a green-tipped dagger from her belt.
My stomach turns. Being inflicted with that particular poison once in my life was quite enough. “I think you exposed your desperation with your once-a-century comment.” I keep my eyes on her as I grab my runed dagger from the rain-slick grass. “You need me.”
“Another will come along,” she warns. “You are not special.”
“But I’m the only lightning wielder you have to prove yourself now.” Pretty sure I’ve pressed her to the limits of her patience and shit is about to get real. Gripping the conduit out of habit, I reach for Tairn. The growing drip of power and parchment-thin bond tell me he’s getting closer but still out of range.
“Which meant a lot more when you had your irid.” She crouches and runs her hand over the meadow grass. A single tap of her finger turns the spot gray.
Oh, shit. If I overplayed my hand, all she has to do is lower hers, and I’m dust. Panic winds its way around my heart and digs her nails in, but I shove the insidious bitch straight out before she can get a good grip.
“Violence?” Xaden asks. Exhaustion and urgency mixed with a little pain slide down the bond. He’s in combat.
“I’m all right. Focus on you.” I chance taking my eyes off Theophanie for a heartbeat and glance toward what I can see of the city through the thickening storm. Dragons, wyvern, and gryphons fill the sky above the spiral tower, but I don’t let my gaze linger long enough to search for blue in that sea of chaos.
Xaden is the strongest of them. He’ll be all right. I have to keep my focus—and Theophanie—here to give them a shot at saving Draithus. They just need time. I turn my back on the city and face Theophanie as rain begins to fall in earnest, pelting the ground with heavy drops.
“Ah, you worry for the shadow wielder,” Theophanie says with a cruel smile and continues to skim her hand across the tips of the grass. “Do you not want to have forever with him?”
“I already do.” I scan our surroundings for any advantage and find none.
“Not in the way you want.” She tilts her head. “We’re excellent actors, but our kind doesn’t feel what you call love.”
That gets all my attention.
“You’re lying.” I would know.
“Ah, there it is.” A cruel smile tilts her mouth. “Battles are lost by our weakest warriors, and that’s what he makes you—weak. Now that I know where you’re vulnerable, we can begin.”
“Fuck you.” I’ve proved to Dunne’s favored isle that I’m anything but the weakest, while she no longer carries Dunne’s favor.
“Lesson one. To survive in our world, you must protect the magic that sustains you. Do you know how to keep from being drained by this method?” She splays her palm on the ground, and the earth slowly desiccates. Grass turns gray and crumbles. Ground shrivels and cracks, swallowing the rain. The infection oozes outward from her hand, slowly devouring inches, then feet.
I retreat a single step, then realize how wrong that instinct is. She can turn up the speed at any second. She’s just playing with me.