41. Reyla
41
REYLA
I nstinct kicked in. I yanked on my power and tried to flit but couldn’t. Damn spell.
As the knife hurtled close, I dove to the side, my fingers reaching for the blades strapped to my waist. I whipped the right one out in time to deflect the knife, sending it smacking against the stone wall by my side. Fear flooded my veins as the magical dagger glowed and projected itself off the wall, driving toward me again.
With a yelp, I struck it mid-air, sending it flying back again. Before it impacted with the wall, the weapon flipped over and lunged toward me.
As it came at me again, I shot lightning at it, but my fire arced off, blasting across the wall. I tumbled sideways, rolling across the floor to come up in a crouch, swiping out with my blade as it followed. I knocked it to the side and raced down the hall, back toward Lore with it giving chase. The taint of its magic clogged the air.
“Think,” I hissed. Shadows danced along the walls as I ran, flickering in the weak light from torches. Could I grab onto power and use these shadows to fight magic with magic?
Focus, Reyla. Breathe.
I deflected the knife again, shooting it at the floor where it skidded and clattered. Power floated around me. I could see it now, and I sucked it in, calling it to me. My heart blazed, scorching across my ribs. My ragged breathing made my lungs wheeze. Once I'd bunched the power inside me like Lore taught me, I flung it at the shadows, begging them to help. Come on. Do something, please. Obey me.
When the knife shot toward me again, I froze, slashing out in defense and sending it against the wall. It toppled to the floor but came up again, bursting at me at a dizzying speed. Panic clawed up my throat.
It wasn't giving up. Not only that, but it was also learning. Anticipating my moves.
The shadows seemed to shimmer and ooze away from the wall before flattening again, dulling.
“Help me,” I gasped, pulling in more power.
A door banged open far behind me, but I had no time to look. The knife was circling for another assault. Every instinct screamed for me to run, but I couldn't turn my back on it, or I’d taste its steel when it impaled me from behind.
Fear rippled through me, hot and familiar, but I'd used it in the past in situations as bad as this one. A girl didn't live long in a border fortress if she wasn't quick with her feet and lethal with a blade. But I'd never taken on a foe like this one, fueled by the rage of magic.
The knife dove toward me, and I swatted it away with my blade. Metal clanged as it hit the stone wall. How could I defeat a weapon powered by a warm, living body hiding behind it?
I couldn't. Whoever had come for me could wield magic better than me. Most fae could wield magic better than me. Eventually, it would wear me out and it would be over.
It flipped and flung itself toward me again in a viper’s strike.
As I spun and dove to the side, it deviated, following. A cold bead of sweat trickled down my spine. Panic squeezed the edges of my vision as I ducked, the blade skimming along my arm, slicing deep.
I hissed. My blood dripped, but I couldn’t take the time to look.
A shadow snaked along the wall to my left, and I tried again, pulling in the power coating the air around me and sending it at the shadow with a more delicate touch.
“Accept my offering. Take it. Please, help me.”
The knife zipped past my shoulder, slicing through my shirt to gouge another path across my skin. Gasping, I slapped my palm over the wound, reeling back against the wall hard enough to jar my bones. The relentless knife spun and dove toward me.
I caught a shadow throbbing out of the corner of my eye. It crept across the stone. As the knife raced toward my chest, the shadow peeled off the wall and leaped, flinging itself between me and the blade. The knife exploded on impact, erupting in a flash of light and shards of metal and stone .
Shrapnel blasted in every direction, embedding in the stone on either side of me. One piece sliced through the shadow, striking my cheek. Reeling backward, I hit the wall hard, swiping my face with the back of my hand while keeping my blade ready. A prick like this stung and burned, but a sword in the gut would hurt worse. Defend or attack until all foes lie around you, and even then, don't sheath your blades until you're sure none of them can get back up.
Lore stalked toward me from down the hall, fury churning around him in a storm made up of sand and fragments of stone.
The shadow slipped away from me, gliding down to the floor. It oozed across the marble tiles to rejoin the wall, where it ripped back up the corridor toward Lore, taking its place as a piece of him, fusing to mirror his movements on the stone wall.
I collapsed beside a window, my lungs raging and my heart a tempest in my chest.
He reached me, his features sharper than the knife that attacked, his eyes glinting like polished stones. His shadow remained level with him, shifting and rippling as if it would spring away again at my command and pulverize everyone around us with its fury.
He stepped between me and the threat from the other end of the hall where I sensed someone listened, waiting for another chance to strike.
His face creased, and his arms lifted. His low mutter shifted across my skin as he drew in everything around us. Dust and dirt. Even the shards of metal and wood from the blade and its hilt. The window to my right slammed open, the glass shattering. Instead of tinkling to the floor, the fragments joined the force brewing around Lore. It spiraled and shifted, twisting fast until it became a blur, a massive fury only this man could control.
He thrust out his palm, and the coiling mass blasted past me, ripping down the hall. It darted around the corner and a guttural cry rang out, silenced before I could blink.
Lore spun to face me, gripping my shoulders, only releasing the injured one when I winced. “Wildfire, did it hit you?” His sweet breath blazed hot in my face. “Answer me,” he snarled. “Did it hit you?”
“Only scratches. I’m alright.”
“Wait here,” he hissed, releasing me and moving down the hall as fast as the storm he’d used to eliminate the threat. He took the corner but returned to my side in an instant. “Acting alone. No one else.”
My body sagged, and I would’ve fallen if he hadn’t grabbed me. He gently pried my blades from my hands and slipped each into the sheath at my side. Then he swept me into his arms and dropped to the floor, holding me while I shook with spent reaction.
“Who was it?” I croaked.
He shrugged and cupped my face, tilting it to examine the cut, his lips thinning at the shard still sticking out of my cheek. With more care than I’d expect from this snarly man, he delicately plucked it out and tossed it aside. He laid his thumb over the wound. Before I could protest, light flared, and a subtle burning seared across my skin.
When he lifted his thumb, he nodded. “You’ll bear a small scar. I can’t do anything about that. ”
I grunted. “I don’t care about scars.” My gaze sought his. Who had hurt him badly enough to leave such horrifying mars on his skin? “Did you heal each one on your body yourself?”
He jerked out a nod. “Where else are you hurt?” His gaze scanned my frame, locking on the wound on my forearm. It also received his attention, and the burning pain faded.
“You can heal.”
“Superficial wounds. I wish I could do more, but that’s not my skill.” He carefully peeled the fabric away from my shoulder and scowled at the wound.
“I don’t think it’s deep,” I said. “It only grazed me.”
He ran his thumb across the slice and sealed it as well, making the sting drop down at least three notches right away. His scowled deepened, twisting the long-healed slice on his face. Some might find it gruesome, but all I could see was the physical manifestation of his past pain. A sharp pang twisted in my chest, shooting cold tendrils through my limbs as if his pain was now mine to bear.
“They hurt you,” he said.
“And you hurt them back. Your shadow helped me.”
“I saw that.” His lips curled up on one side while his eyes remained sharper than the dagger his shadow had defeated. “Well done.”
“Why didn’t it respond in the tower?”
“I didn’t let it.”
“Why not?”
He cocked his head as if he was listening before his gaze met mine again. “Very little is truly mine.”
“It was for practice. I wasn’t going to keep it. ”
“You didn't wait for me to escort you to your suite.” He climbed to his feet with me still in his arms and lowered me to my boots beside him, his arm sweeping around my lower back to hold me upright. His glare would’ve cut holes in the stone wall. “I promised Surren I'd protect you. And you fled . Me. You fled from me.”
I couldn’t have stayed with him one moment longer. Whatever I'd found with the snarly version of Lore blazed across my soul before backing off to a low simmer. A gentle, thoughtful Lore? My heart would not be able to resist the devastation.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He took my hand and hurried me through the halls and down the stairs to my level, not speaking to me. Not looking at me. I peppered him with questions that only made his glare sharpen.
When we reached the guards standing at attention outside my suite, he thrust open the door to my sitting area.
Surren sputtered but wisely said nothing. The others looked away as if Lore storming around was an everyday occurrence.
After nudging me inside, Lore closed the door in my face.