11. TOUCH HER AND DIE
Silas stood in the entry to the chamber with an air of undeniable authority. His eyes flickered to a fiery red, as did the markings that curved around his temples. The white wings that towered behind him were just like . . .
I whipped my head toward Remic, who was staring Silas down from atop the altar, clearly unsure of who this male was and why he was here. The look on his face told me he was incredibly bothered by it.
Shock washed over me as I met Silas’s gaze once more.
I hadn’t noticed it before—how ethereal he was. Otherworldly, like Remic.
Niall and Elspeth had been right after all. Silas was a Dionach. Which meant he had been glamoured the entire time we competed in the tournament.
Which also meant that he’d been there for a reason.
For me.
He had known.
“You will not touch what is mine,” he seethed at Ramil.
A clear fucking warning.
At his words, Niall growled low, wrapping his arm protectively around my waist and pulling me into him. Remic let out a snarl of his own, flicking his wings in irritation.
“Whoever you are,” Niall rumbled, “you’re seriously mistaken.” Even his shadows snaked around me like they were laying claim.
Silas tore his eyes from Ramil, and cocked his head as he took in Niall’s protectiveness.
With one smooth maneuver of his wings, he bypassed the throng of enemies and swept into place in front of me.
Glowing red eyes scanned over me from head to toe, assessing.
His golden hair grazed his jawline as he regarded me. “Hello again, little one.”
It was Roirdan this time, who attempted to give Silas a piece of his mind. But Niall’s shadows pulsed, and no one stirred further.
“Silas,” I acknowledged, bleakly.
Niall’s voice barreled across my mind. This is Silas?!
Yes, I replied. He didn’t look like this the last time I saw him.
Silas turned, leaving me face to face with the long golden sword strapped between his feathered wings.
His voice vibrated through the domed chamber as he stared the High Lord of Benmoor down.
“Creature or fae, whoever touches her will die.” His hand flexed over the pommel of the sword encased in a gilded sheath at his hip, a twin to the one at his back.
The feline creatures pawed at the ground, anxiously awaiting their command to attack.
Ramil tightened the hold he had on his daughter, and began laughing. “As entertaining as this is, you’re all wasting my time with this nonsense.” He leaned in and spoke in Morah’s ear, loud enough for all to hear. “You, my dear, are going to watch your friends fall, one by one.”
He jerked his chin at his foot soldiers. “Bring her to me. Kill the rest.”
Silas unsheathed the sword at his hip with his right hand, while extracting the blade at his back with his left. The movement was quick, so fluid and graceful, yet full of malice.
I could feel the energy pulsing off of him.
He was here to protect me.
Once Roirdan, Remic, and Niall took note of it, they turned their focus on the rest of the room, collectively deciding that the unfamiliar Dionach was the lesser threat . . . for now. Arguing over who claimed who would have to wait until later.
“I’ll cover Maeson and Fallon,” Roirdan said, readying his weapon.
The feline creatures sank on their haunches, fixing their attention on him the moment he spoke. They let out a hiss in unison, yellow liquid dripping from their teeth.
Roirdan swore. “Stay away from their mouths.”
Niall’s shadows shot toward the creatures, not waiting for them to strike first. One was ensnared and taken to the floor, rolling and struggling until the shadowfire slipped down its throat and choked it into stillness.
The others dispersed, their agile bodies dodging and snapping at the shadowfire that got too close.
The Immortals moved, coming at us from all angles.
Silas was a blur of gold and white in front of me as he cut down one after the other with his twin blades.
A creature darted around him and lunged for Niall, but I threw out a pulse of light, knocking it off course.
It scrambled back up and tried again, but this time, shadows engulfed it, turning it to ash before it could get within ten feet of us.
I swayed, feeling faint. My power was waning; I had already used too much. Morah told me to conserve it, but the thought of taking refuge behind everyone else while they risked their lives was abhorrent.
As if he read my thoughts, Niall snagged me by my waist. You’re tiring, he said silently, searching my eyes while his shadowfire took down enemies around us.
I didn’t want to admit it, but the look I gave him confirmed it.
Don’t use any more of your power, he commanded.
A moment later, he whirled, catching a feline by its throat, mid-air, with the shadows that sprang from his hand.
The animal wriggled and writhed under his steely death grip while he stepped up to it and assessed it closely.
When the creature snapped its jaw at him, he dodged it with preternatural grace.
He took one last look at the strange beast before the shadow around its neck turned to black flame and clipped the creature’s head from the rest of its body.
The smell of burnt flesh filled my nose, as thick, black blood splattered onto Niall’s bare chest.
Behind us, Remic launched off the altar and slammed to the ground, bringing his boot down on the skull of one of the creatures with such force that the animal’s brain matter slickened the stone in a bath of black ink.
Our adversaries quickly dwindled to nothing again, and in a growing panic, Ramil began hauling Morah closer to the doorway, realizing his tactics weren’t working.
Just as I took a step in their direction, I heard a hissing sound to my right. But this time, the sound didn’t come from any of the creatures . . .
It was from a fae.
I looked to see Roirdan clutching his forearm in pain from where one of the feline’s teeth had torn across his flesh.
Then I remembered what dripped from those teeth . . .
Poison.
He kept fighting, kicking the animal against the altar and driving his sword through its navel before swiping upward and severing the entire body in two. Its blackened innards spilled out onto the stones below.
Suddenly, Maeson gasped so loudly, that I swore half the room’s air went into her lungs. “He’s back!” she cried out, scrambling to lift Fallon’s head. The male’s chest rose and fell in a staggering rhythm, and his eyelids fluttered. “Roirdan! Help me!”
Roirdan shook out his arm and slid to his knees at Maeson’s side.
“We have to get him out of here, now,” her voice echoed across the chamber.
The commander reached for Fallon, but his strength faltered and he fell forward, catching himself on his uninjured arm.
“Get to Roirdan!” I shouted to Niall. “We have to get out of here!”
The last of the Immortals fell at the hands of Silas and Remic, who now stood side by side, a twin image of wings and might.
Across the chamber, Morah let out a whimper as Ramil’s blade drew another bead of her blood.
“You cannot win this, Ramil!” I called out. “Let her go and we can discuss terms!”
Remic shot me a look over his shoulder, but I ignored it. I would not be negotiating. I was only trying to play the same game Ramil was.
And it had the necessary effect. The High Lord halted his retreat.
“You dare give orders to me?” he said.
In the stillness, Morah looked up to the ceiling, straining under her father’s hold. Her hands slowly lifted at her sides, like she was offering a silent prayer to the gods.
Ramil’s face grew gravely serious, and a pit formed in my stomach at the sight of it. I knew what his next move would be.
“When I ask for something,” he said in a now disturbingly calm voice, “it shall be done. And the price you pay for disobeying my orders . . .” He trailed off as he moved to draw his blade across his daughter’s throat.
“MORAH!” I screamed, but Morah’s eyes flashed, and she wraith-walked backwards through her father, disappearing completely.
His blade slid across empty air.
Before I had time to comprehend what she’d just done, or the fact that she had used her power when we all thought she had spent too much of it porting us, she appeared by my side, clutching onto me.
Wide-eyed at her escape, Ramil whirled and snarled, but Maeson stood from the base of the altar and sent a wall of flame barreling toward him, giving him no time to retaliate. He tossed up a shield to block it, but she held fast, maintaining the onslaught so that we could escape.
“Let’s go!” she yelled as she backed toward the door. There was no telling how much power she had spent coaxing Fallon back to this side of life, but I imagined she was nearly drained.
Remic grabbed Morah while Silas scooped up Fallon, his wings flaring to propel him in one movement to the other side of the chamber.
Niall hoisted Roirdan up with an arm underneath him to support his weight and hauled him to the door.
I moved in their direction, keeping my eyes on Ramil, when my vision snagged on the stone dangling from his neck . . . as if it were taunting me.
The Alatyr.
“Wipe the wards!” Remic yelled as he reached the door along with everyone else. “Auren!”
Maeson’s fire was still holding Ramil back, but it wouldn’t last much longer.
In a last-ditch effort, I reached my hand out and willed the Alatyr to come to me.
My power met the resistance of Ramil’s shield, then pushed right through it.
Ramil realized what I’d done a moment too late, as the chain snapped free from his neck.
It soared through Maeson’s wall of fire, across the chamber, and into my grasp.
I clutched it tight and then refocused my power, commanding the wards to fall.
As they did, everyone escaped into the hallway, and I disappeared through the door just as Maeson’s fire burned out and the wards slid back into place.
In the hallway, I was met with heavy breaths and a pained groan from Roirdan.
I grasped onto Niall.
“Calledan,” he commanded, and we left Benmoor in a puff of dust.