57. Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Six
Archer
A wave of dark water slammed into me, but I pressed onward, finding the revenant wielding the power and slicing my blade through its neck.
I’d lost the fire demon and my chance to end the revenant army, but if she’d chosen to infiltrate Rainsong during the battle, I was convinced she wouldn’t go far. I could find her again.
Worse, I hadn’t found a healer anywhere. Everywhere I went there was death and destruction, more revenants than living fae left at this point. I feared Lily was long gone, that I’d failed her like I’d failed the rest of Emberglade.
Was this how it was all to end?
Screams alerted me to a writhing form on my right.
I charged around the corner of the building to find a revenant tearing into a soldier’s arm, its rotting teeth unnaturally sharp as it feasted on flesh.
Blood gushed down its chin as it lifted its eyes to stare at me, dropping its forgotten victim, who was in a growing pool of blood, his eyes glassy and pained and horrified.
Rage made my vision red. How dare Vithenna think this is what my people deserved, all because of my father’s violence. All because of some death-lovers. I screamed and swung my blade like a madman, hacking the revenant into pieces. Bile climbed my throat, but I couldn’t stop.
Until I remembered the suffering soldier.
I ran to him, but all the blood made it clear it was too late.
My eyes burned as I drew on my power again, the soldier’s last chance of peace.
I filled him with peace and comfort. But he was already gone.
The change happened suddenly, his body rising, his eyes locking on me.
They were terrifyingly blank, chilling me to my bone.
I lifted my bloody blade and cut off his head.
At some point, I finally came across a healer knelt beside a soldier. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he pressed his palm to the gash in the female’s side.
“Please, when you’ve finished with her, I need you to find Lily Starblood. She’s near the northern border, and she’s gravely wounded.”
The healer’s blue eyes snapped to mine. Already, the female’s wound was knitting back together. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll find her.”
Racing footsteps alerted me to a revenant closing in, and I turned to meet its attack.
Everything was a haze of shadow and misery and screams and rotting flesh.
I charged and ducked, parried and swung, dodged and sliced.
The cobblestones were slick with blood. My body was heavy with physical weariness and exhaustion from wielding my magic.
And then I saw the flames again, chasing away the shadows and revealing Isoria.
There was something oddly like hope in her expression as she ran to me. The fool. She thought she’d make me fall for her again, trick me somehow. But without the bond, I could defend myself with my magic at last.
“You thought you’d be my ruination, but it’s over for you, Isoria Gildmere. Give up. You’re not going to harm any more of my people.” I eyed the flames dancing around her hands with revulsion, waiting for her to scream in rage and hurl them toward me.
Echoes of phoenix cries over the years haunted me. The death threats, how they’d said they’d burn our kingdom and turn us all to ash.
Not this time.
I opened my mouth to wield my magic, but she was already in half-form, fiery wings lifting her into the air and dropping her right in front of me.
My magic was harder to pull on, the threads messier. I was tired, and that was making me vulnerable and slower to react.
“You’re not like your father,” the death-lover was saying. “He stole Emberglade, murdered his way to the throne. He lives in paranoia and rules through fear, slaughtering a whole people over a prophecy. He used you as a tool because of your magic. But you’re greater than that.”
I scowled. “Stop talking.”
She stepped closer. “Prince Archer Emberglade, you love your people, even the phoenix shifters, because you’ve seen who we are. We’re not monsters, and neither are you. This isn’t who you are.” She tried to reach for me, and I seized her wrist.
“Our blood bond made me feel things that weren’t real. And your kind—of course you’re master manipulators, doing whatever you can to save yourselves. You’re connected to Mortius, the trickster god.”
“Let me heal you,” she pleaded.
“There’s nothing to heal, fire demon.” I twisted her wrist and she cried out, backing up.
Something slammed into my back, loosening my grasp on her and dropping me to the cobblestones. My blade clattered to the ground, out of reach.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” came Cliff’s voice.
I blinked at the jaguar lifting its paws off me and backing up, giving me a chance to breathe.
It prowled over to the blade, standing between it and me.
“But I can’t let you do something you’ll regret.
I don’t know what Vithenna told you, but Isoria is not your enemy. ”
“What did she do to you?” I demanded. Confusion tugged at me, along with the smallest sliver of doubt. But I couldn’t let myself hesitate or be tricked now. This was all wrong. My hand reached for the blade I kept in my boot.
Isoria stalked toward me, her hand extended. I leapt to my feet before she could grab me, bringing my knife to her neck. She didn’t rear back, didn’t try to stop me.
Instead, she grabbed my collar, keeping the flames dancing in her free hand, and moved closer, pressing her lips to mine.
Isoria
For a while, I’d fought the revenants alongside Scarlet, Brook, and Bren, but it didn’t take long before we were separated in the chaos. Before Archer found me again.
Now, Archer was a blur of motion. One moment he was on the ground, giving me a chance to approach and touch him, to try to push my healing magic into him. The next he was on his feet, a blade biting into my neck.
So I touched him in a way that would take him by surprise, hopefully long enough to heal him, to find whatever was broken and mend it. Before his blade cut deeper and everything was over.
My lips moved against his with all the tenderness I felt for this prince who’d faced death with me so many times over. Who’d risked everything time and again for his kingdom. Who’d burned up in flames alongside me. Who’d changed his heart and mind and rescued the very fae he’d been trained to hate.
My magic had replenished just enough. It washed through Archer, seeking out any pain or weakness or injury.
It swept warmth through the chill of Mortius’ curse and eased the aching numbness and fear.
It found his mind, pieces shattered and disconnected, like a puzzle Vithenna had undone.
My power knit those pieces back together, restoring every bit of the male I now knew, without doubt, I’d fallen for.
Archer reared backward, clutching his head and panting in shock.
Staggering backward, my hold on my flames almost failing before I recalled myself, I choked on my own gasp as I felt our blood bond snap back into place.
Archer’s emotions ripped through me, a whirlwind of confusion, pain, horror, regret, and relief.
He teetered and almost lost his balance, but I was there, throwing my arms around him.
“Isa,” he breathed, his eyes tracing my face reverently. “I’m so sorry. I’m—”
“It wasn’t you,” I cut in. A tear slipped down my cheek. “I know it wasn’t you.”
He brushed the tear away, cradling my face in his hands.
“You’ve healed and broken me, ruined and remade me in all the best of ways, Isoria Gildmere,” he said fiercely before crushing his mouth to mine.
This kiss was nearly as desperate as the first, full of the passion and fire of battle, of not knowing if we would make it through this but knowing we would face it together.
My flames kept the revenants at bay, but the battle was pressing in closer, raging around us. I pulled back, wanting to tell Archer how I felt before we had to rejoin the tumult, but movement over his shoulder dragged my attention away.
“You.” Princess Briar’s face was splattered with grime and gore from the battle, her usually pristine hair falling wildly around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide with disgust and confusion. “The bond was broken. Your hold on my brother should be over.”
Archer whirled toward her, holding up his hands like he was taming a wild animal. Cliff and his jaguar were gone, likely back in the thick of battle. It was just us and Archer’s sister in this little haven my flames had created, the flickering light reflecting in her eyes.
“Briar,” Archer said placatingly, “she was never the enemy. She’s fought against the revenants. Helped heal our people. I was confused by a bargain the goddess tricked me into when she broke the bond, but Isoria is on our side.”
Briar’s brow furrowed, her grasp on her sword hilt tightening until her knuckles went white. “She’s the one prophesied to ruin us, isn’t she? She’s going to destroy our family.”
Archer didn’t relent. “We’ll make our own fate. She’s not a killer. Please, Briar. Don’t do anything rash. Stand down. Fight the revenants, not her.”
For a long moment, Briar’s eyes darted between Archer and me.
“I can’t lose her,” Archer said softly. “I’d be undone, Briar. Ruined far more than anything or anyone else could ruin me.”
A rare flicker of doubt and pain leaked into the princess’s eyes. She blinked harder. “If she ever does anything to hurt you—”
“Yes, in that case, you could have your vengeance," Archer said, unable to hold back his smile. “But that will never happen, because she never will.”
“All right.” Briar nodded, blinking eyes that were clearly shimmering tears now. “All right. I’ll go. I won’t hurt her. I—” Her throat worked.
“I love you too, sister,” Archer replied. “Glad to know you care about more than your reflection.” He winked and she pretended to scowl. “Be safe.”
She nodded, throwing herself fearlessly back into the shadows.
“Touching,” came another voice, “but you won’t trick me as easily as you deceived my children.”