39. Chapter 39
T he fae corpse’s skin was ashen, and its eyes glowed an unnatural green. Its jaw clenched, snapping as though tasting their fear. Cracks of power licked up its arms, with magic surging from its palms.
“Elemental,” Talen growled. “Lightning. High-born, judging by the remnants of those robes.”
Above, the clouds boiled into dark thunderheads, rumbling like a war drum.
Then the fae corpse attacked.
Lightning spurted from its fingertips, spearing the ground at their feet. Ren dove aside, rolling through grass. Talen met the fae head-on, his sword singing as they fought.
Thunder cracked overhead. The air screamed as a bolt struck too close, fire exploding. Smoke and light bled together.
Ren didn’t have time to look because the dead were coming.
Her battle was her own. Four, no, five, now clawing free from the darkness like nightmares made into flesh.
Ashrend met bone and decay, the wet crunch of impact reverberating up Ren’s arm. One dropped. Another took its place.
She swung.
Again.
And again .
But there were too many.
Talen was a storm of shadow and steel on the other side of the field. But Ren was drowning in bodies.
A hand tangled in her hair, yanking her sideways. Ashrend slipped from her grasp. She hit the ground hard, the wind tearing from her lungs. One of the corpses lunged for her throat. Its mouth opened wide, teeth black and jagged.
Ren twisted. Panic surged.
But it was too fast. Too close.
And then—
She was there again. In the fighter pit. The stench of sweat and blood. The roar of a drunk man demanding blood and gore. Her first fight.
She was fifteen – barely old enough to hold a sword, let alone wield it. And across from her stood a man easily five times her size. Confident she’d fall in the first ten seconds.
She had no magic. No armor.
Just fear and rage .
And one truth burned into her bones: If she didn’t fight, she didn’t live.
Ren had fought until her hands were slick with blood, until her ribs ached with every breath. Until his body dropped at her feet and the crowd screamed her name like a war chant.
Her legs had trembled. But they had held.
Back in the present, something in her snapped.
Ren gritted her teeth and screamed, not in fear, but fury .
The corpse lunged, and she dove for Ashrend, fingers curling around her blade’s width before driving Ashrend through the corpse’s jaw, burying it to the hilt. The corpse spasmed.
Another came. She slashed it down in a wide arc, severing a limb. Blood sprayed across her face.
She kept swinging.
Covered in gore. Surrounded by smoke and thunder and flame.
If Ren had learned anything in this life, it was to fight. Fight with teeth bared and fists bleeding. Fight even when the gods turned their backs.
She shoved the next creature back with a snarl, her lips drawn in a bloody grin. “Come on, then,” she rasped. “Let’s see who breaks first. ”
And then, a horn blast split the sky.
Shook the world .
Silhouettes of soldiers appeared at the clearing of trees across the field, arrows released in perfect arcs at a new horde of reanimated creatures that emerged from the left. They fell under a rain of steel.
And through the clearing smoke, Kaelin appeared astride a midnight black horse, her presence as chillingly beautiful as moonlight on frost.
Kaelin’s lips curved into a dangerous smile that belied her steely tone. “It’s astonishing what obedience you can buy with a well-placed reminder of oaths. Fae pride folds quickly under pressure. You can thank me later.”
Ren kicked at a corpse’s hand tugging at her ankle. “You talked them into it?”
“I convinced them,” Kaelin corrected, dismounting her horse with effortless grace. “Which is nobler than dragging them by the ear. Though I considered that, too.”
From across the field, Ren heard a female’s voice call, “Ready. Archers – go!” Another rain of steel rained across, sending a few more undead to the ground.
There was a male who then roared, “ Charge !” and a few figures dashed from the archers, breaking from the formation, and Ren watched in awe as the fae used the elements – fire, ice, rumbling the very ground of the earth to destroy the last of the undead.
And Kaelin watched with a curl of her lips, pleased.
Ren, still reeling, finally found her voice. “A moment later, and we would have been toast.”
Kaelin’s eyes lingered on Ren. Ren thought she saw the fleeting hint of an unnamed emotion cross Kaelin’s violet eyes. Concern? Worry? Ren didn't know, and before she could decipher just what that emotion might have been, it passed as quickly as it came.
Behind Kaelin, several more armored figures on horseback emerged through the trees, their crests glinting in the light.
Talen stumbled next to Ren. He had struck the fae corpse’s head clean off its shoulders, but its body was wandering the field, arms outstretched, searching for him. “How many did you bring?”
“Enough to make the cowards who stayed behind feel ashamed when they hear what we did here,” Kaelin answered .
Ren stared long enough for the world to narrow to nothing but the fae princess before her. It wasn’t until her jaw went slack that she caught herself and snapped it shut.
Beneath the carnage of shattered corpses and the crackle of lingering lightning, Kaelin stood like some vision torn from myth, armor gleaming, starlit hair spilling wild over her shoulders.
Eyes lit with the kind of fire that could burn kingdoms.
The sight hit Ren so hard, her knees nearly betrayed her.
“You’re full of surprises,” Ren managed to say.
Kaelin’s eyes gleamed as her gaze met Ren’s. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”