Chapter 51 #2
I scream, dropping my blade as I grab at the arrow protruding from my skin. It’s deep—too deep to pull out myself without risk of bleeding out.
But the pain dulls as the wave of guards falls upon me. Over a dozen men and women surround me, some circling around the back, others climbing to neighboring boulders with bows—arrows aimed at my chest.
The air leaves my lungs, and a heat churns in my stomach, weaving into my bones.
Fire bursts into view on the other side of the splintered pines, and flames lick across the grass as the wyverns bank around the clearing. The petals scattered across the space curl at the edges, then turn to ash.
Smoke fills the air like a dense fog, and I scan the guards. It’s a mix of Sky and Earth, with some donned in green and others in a light blue. They’re young, untested. But how many of them have served in the war against my people? Which of them helped torture and interrogate my crew?
Even if their hand wasn’t at fault, none of them are innocent.
A vise twists around my chest as heat billows in my core—scorching the underside of my skin. Red blots my vision, and the fire within me billows, rising with my anger.
This time, I don’t fight it.
My anger isn’t something to be caged, nor forced into submission with happy, false memories. It’s not something to run from or stifle.
I blow out a breath and claim it as a friend. It braids into my marrow, weaves into my veins, and burrows into the deepest part of my being. It soothes into a bearable warmth, and power lingers at my fingertips like a resting beast.
The guards step closer, and one pulls a pair of rhodium cuffs from his belt line. Steam wafts from my palms, and the air distorts around my arms, but I don’t feel any burns—no unbearable heat.
My lip quirks, and I hold the guard’s eyes as I turn my hand over.
His gaze lowers to my fingertips, and he scoffs. “You can’t wield the sea from here.”
I lift a brow. “Who said I was trying to wield the sea?”
His eyes widen a fraction, and the guards behind him shift on their feet—tighten the hold on their weapons.
“You’re helpless, then,” he says, but his words are weak.
“Helpless?” I risk a step forward, stopping inches away from him as I tilt my head. “Who do you think summoned the wyvern?”
A shadow passes over his face as one of the beasts crests overhead and roars. Screams come from the ceremony space, but even the wyvern don’t unleash the full extent of their power. As if the crimson one is relaying my orders to scare—not create a bloodbath.
“You’re lying,” the guard says, barely above a whisper.
I roll out my neck. For the past two weeks I’ve been trying to control myself—so worried I’d make the wrong step. But now? Now I have nothing else to lose.
“Would you be willing to bet your life on it?” I purr, lifting a hand to his uniform. I drag my fingertips over the curve of his shoulder, and the fabric splits in two as embers follow in the wake of my touch.
His eyes shoot wide, and he stumbles back, patting at his shoulder. But the embers grow, then the slight breeze feeds the flame, and within the span of a heartbeat, fire engulfs his body.
The snap of a bowstring comes from behind me, and I twist. An arrow shoots toward me, but I lift a palm and swallow it in a ball of fire. Ashes drop to the ground, and I turn my attention to the guard who shot at me.
Her fingers clench the bow, and her other hand trembles as she reaches for another arrow in her quiver. The other guards advance on me, and I lift a hand, calling the fire to my palm.
A shudder rocks the earth. I throw out my arms for balance and navigate the piles of crushed rock around my feet as the ground vibrates. Trees split in half, and I glance over my shoulder as a chunk of earth shoots into the sky.
It slams into a wyvern and snaps its wing in two. The creature wails, flapping its other wing frantically, but it somersaults over itself and plummets into the forest.
The trees go still.
A keening wail comes from the sky, and the crimson wyvern banks right, careening toward the fallen creature. My breath hitches as a wave of grief sweeps across our connection, and I press a hand to my chest.
I was right. The crimson one is the hoard’s leader, and it cares about them as much as I care about my crew.
Hot tears blur my vision, and I throw out my arms, blasting a wall of fire in every direction. The guards don’t even have a chance to scream. Flames swallow them whole, and they crumple into heaps—nothing but charred bones and the metal of their swords left behind.
My breath billows out like steam, and I stride toward the trees, following the path where Golan split the earth down the middle. There’s a tap on my mind, but I ignore it and palm my dagger.
I break through the trees, and the clearing opens up before me. I step around overturned chairs and weave past fallen bodies. Golan stands in the center—his midnight hair wild as he lifts his hands and commands the earth. Chunks of rock shoot into the sky, but the wyverns dodge his attacks.
Kressa whips around, and her gaze meets mine. She opens her mouth, but the roar of a wyvern drowns her out, and Julian pulls her to the ground as a stream of fire bursts over the treetops.
The wind picks up, feeding the blaze surrounding the ceremony space and tossing my hair around my head. My skin buzzes, and flames lap at my bones.
Callum stands on the opposite side with a sword in his hand. Sky Court guards surround him—ashes covering their faces as they guide him from the blaze and protect him from the wyvern.
He may have taken the throne from his brother, along with his army, but that doesn’t mean he has Isolde’s power.
He’s completely powerless.
I narrow my eyes, and the distance between us shrinks. Golan shouts, and a handful of guards run toward me, drawing their blades.
But the air shifts. A wyvern slams onto the ground, and it throws its head back, releases a roar. The guards skid to a stop and raise their swords, but the wyvern lunges a step forward and opens its maw, turning them to ash.
Callum’s head whips in my direction, and he curls his lip away from his teeth. His gaze jumps to the wyvern, then back to me—as if he can tell the beast won’t hurt me.
I give him a smile.
Smoke clogs the air, and as I make out the whites in his eyes, I flip my dagger in my hand and pinch the blade between my fingers. Channeling inward, I imbue the metal with fire, heating it until it glows red-hot.
Just like how I killed his brother.
He shouts something to his guards, but the crackling fire overpowers his voice. I wind my arm behind my head and throw the dagger. It somersaults through the air, but before his guards have a chance to hold up a shield, it slams to the hilt in his throat.
I shoot a blast of fire at his guards, knocking them out of the way, and come to a stop in front of Callum. He falls to his knees and coughs—blood spurting out of the corners of his mouth as he makes out a string of garbled words.
Crouching, I tilt my head. “Sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
His face pales as the blood drains from his body, but he narrows his eyes.
I click my tongue. “Say hi to your brother for me.”
The front of his jacket turns a muddied red, and he slumps to the side—his shoulder slamming into the ground.
I straighten, and the wyvern circle overhead like a tornado waiting to touch down.
A whistle comes from the distance, and despite my connection with the crimson one, they dart back the way they came. The sky clears in a matter of seconds. My breath hitches, and I stumble back from Callum’s body. I need to run into the forest, or hide, or—
The hilt of a blade slams into my temple, and the world goes black.