Chapter 39
For the third time that day, Corinne woke to a living nightmare.
She was in a dark cell, being hauled to her feet by two sets of hands before she’d even reached full consciousness. They dragged her into the dungeon corridor, her hands still shackled in front of her.
“If you resist, Mother Creita has promised to draw out the prince’s death.”
That was Vera’s voice in her ear.
Corinne’s mind sharpened as they trekked down the corridor toward the stairwell. The cells were mostly empty. What had become of Iliana, of Nik and Danai, and all the other guards?
“How long was I unconscious after the fire?” Corinne asked quietly.
She glanced to her right to find Priestess Bria grasping that arm.
“Just a day,” Vera said.
“And the Lightguards have successfully staged a coup?”
“Not a coup,” Bria said. “A liberation and return to the values of the Goddess.”
Corinne didn’t bother to argue. “What about the castle guards? Where are they?”
“Some surrendered, others were killed,” Vera said, and Corinne’s heart lurched.
They could all be dead.
And she was about to watch Aryel die.
“The people of Ashera will turn against you all,” Corinne muttered.
“The people of Ashera know us as heroes who put out the fire set off by violent assassins,” Bria said. “We are providing the nation stability during a time of tragedy and uncertainty.”
Corinne clenched her teeth. The Lightguards would go on as beacons of righteousness in Ashera, and no one would know they’d killed the royal family themselves.
Emerging onto the ground floor of the castle, Corinne fought to keep her magic under control.
It hummed beneath her skin, aching to be unleashed.
But she didn’t know where they were taking her, didn’t know if she could get to Aryel before they all converged on her if she tried to escape.
Lightguards were all over the castle, roaming the corridors, eyes following Corinne as they marched her toward…
where were they going, anyway? They weren’t headed for the entrance hall.
Corinne tensed when they approached the doors to the gardens, two Lightguards opening them to let them outside. Her racing heart skittered to a stop.
A short wooden platform had been erected right in front of the central fountain, almost like a little stage, surrounded by roughly a dozen Lightguards standing in a circle. Mother Creita stood atop it, sword in hand, and Aryel was on his knees to her left, his hands shackled like Corinne’s.
Corinne lost her grasp on her composure the moment she locked eyes with her irreverent, heathen brat of a prince.
She fought Vera and Bria’s holds, her markings flaring along her skin. She grappled with them for a moment before a voice cut across the gardens.
“Enough, Corinne!” Mother Creita bellowed. “It’s your choice: he will die by the sword, or by fire.”
Fear tore its way up her body, and Vera and Bria took advantage of it, forcing her to her knees. Corinne looked to the platform again.
Mother Creita’s left arm was alight with her markings, flames beginning to form along them. In her other hand, the sword she held glowed. Corinne’s insides blazed.
That was her sword.
Corinne’s magic flared brighter, her power building within, and she fought Vera and Bria again with a snarl.
“Chala,” Mother Creita barked, and the other Priestess came forward, relieving Vera to grip Corinne’s arm with greater strength.
They let some heat into their hands, searing into her arms, and she fought back a cry. The Lightguards all around them didn’t say a word, their faces either stoic or pitying as they looked at her. She didn’t care about any of them, her eyes glued to the man she couldn’t bear to lose.
“Ari,” Corinne sobbed, her magic flickering again as the burning intensified.
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” he said, his eyes holding hers as if there weren’t a dozen feet between them.
The idea that the light in them was about to go out…
“We gather today to finalize the cleansing of our realm,” Mother Creita began.
No. Corinne would not allow it.
She let out a cry, all fury and fear and desperation, startling both the Priestesses holding her and cutting off Mother Creita’s speech. Bria and Chala summoned actual flames to their hands, now, and Corinne’s vision went white.
It wasn’t despair that accompanied Corinne’s agony this time, but pure, white-hot rage. She screamed her throat raw as they drove their magic into her flesh, vaguely aware of someone calling her name.
“Corinne! Corinne!”
Somewhere in the torrent of agony that drowned all rational thought, Corinne knew that wasn’t her mother screaming for her.
Reality blurred as images of a burning house flashed before her eyes, then a man struggling against the hold of a woman in white, a sword at his throat.
Just when she thought she’d lose consciousness, something nagged at the back of Corinne’s mind.
No matter how hard she’d tried to avoid it, fire was part of her, hers to wield. Helaera’s Light was a gift she’d been given, and it was not meant for this—to cause her this pain.
They’re just thoughts.
That’s part of Her Light too.
I had a feeling about you, Corinne.
Stay the course. Be the Light.
You’re more than that.
“Corinne!”
Corinne reached for the magic burning into her, reached for the fire, and pulled.
The pain eased, and power flooded into her chest, her lungs.
With a sharp exhale, she let her magic ignite along her skin, the light turning to flames.
The Priestesses stumbled back, yelping in pain, and Lightguards all around them began moving in a panic as the flames grew hot enough to melt the shackles from Corinne’s wrists.
The burns on her arms faded away painfully but quickly, and she rose to her feet, her tears evaporating in the heat.
She sent a kick directly into Bria’s ribcage, leaving a charred slash across her white robes, and the Priestess collapsed to the ground.
Chala’s own magic lit her body, far more dimly than Corinne’s, and she launched an arc of fire at Corinne.
She ducked it easily and prepared to counter, throwing two slashes of flames at Chala, who dodged one but hissed in pain when the other hit her in the side.
Behind them, a Lightguard lurched in place, an arrow protruding from his shoulder, and everyone froze. He looked up right as another arrow flew and lodged itself in his eye.
Shouts erupted as more arrows flew, and Corinne glanced over her shoulder, greeted by the appearance of castle guards armed with bows and swords as they poured into the gardens.
An instant later, Corinne returned her attention to Chala, taking her down with a ruthless blow to her chest, and then sprinted for the platform.
Mother Creita was dragging Aryel away down a side garden path, sword at his throat as she shouted orders at the Lightguards.
Corinne did not slow.
Two Lightguards blocked her way, and she wove between them, dodging their attacks with ease, harnessing their magic as they hurled it at her.
The fire welcomed the additional light and heat even more easily than her normal magic did, almost hungry for it.
She kept it close as she raced down the path and around the fountain, not wanting to set the gardens and everyone in them ablaze.
Several Lightguards chased after her, but she evaded them easily enough. She knew this place, and they did not.
But where was Mother Creita? Corinne couldn’t hear anything over the shouts and screams from behind her. Goddess, she hoped her friends were alive and would stay that way.
When she emerged from between two flowering trees, another Lightguard was there. She took him down before he’d even realized who she was. The hem of a white cloak caught her eye from around the next corner, and she dashed for it.
She skidded to a halt as a burst of light flew inches past her head, whipping around as Vera bore down on her. She caught Vera’s next attack and hurled it back at her tenfold. Vera barely dodged the pillar of fire aimed for her face.
“You were supposed to be as devoted as me!” Vera shouted, her face contorted as she ran at Corinne again, sword drawn.
Corinne ducked beneath the blow and sent her flying backward with a blast of flames to her chest.
Vera shrieked as it burned a hole through her tunic, her sword clattering to the ground.
With a deep inhale, Corinne sent a blast of her magic into the stones, and the earth shook beneath them, upending the stones and toppling several nearby trees so Vera had no clear path forward. She screamed in rage, and Corinne ran off, gritting her teeth.
And you were supposed to be my friend.
She was approaching the garden perimeter. Surely Mother Creita couldn’t have gotten far trying to drag Aryel with her.
“Aryel!” she shouted, unsure which direction to take when she reached a fork in the path.
“Corinne—!” His voice cut off with a cry, but it was enough.
Around the next corner to her right, beneath one of the pergolas, Mother Creita held Corinne’s sword at Aryel’s throat as she gripped his shirt. Aryel pulled at her arm, but with the High Priestess’s magic bolstering her strength, the blade didn’t budge.
“Careful, Corinne,” Mother Creita said soothingly. “If you’re rational, I’ll let him live.”
Corinne pulled her fire inward, but she remained tensed to attack. Shouts and clanging metal rang out over the trees and flowers from the central garden.
“Let him go,” Corinne said.
“Perhaps I will…if you rejoin us.”
Corinne began to gather heat in her left palm, concentrating it as much as she could. She channeled every bit of her rage, her grief, her confusion and disappointment into it.
“Let. Him. Go.”
“Don’t you want to be the highest blessed—”
Corinne let all that magic in her palm reach a peak, until it felt like her hand was going to explode from the pressure, and then she twisted, throwing out her arm. A spear of fire, so hot it was white, shot from her hand and slammed into Mother Creita’s face, inches from Aryel’s neck.
The High Priestess let out an earsplitting scream, releasing him and Corinne’s sword as she cradled her face, and Corinne was already moving.
She grabbed Aryel, melting the shackles on his wrists before reaching down to retrieve her sword. Mother Creita had collapsed to her knees on the stone path, still screaming and writhing when Corinne took Aryel’s hand and ran.