39. Aldrin #2
My magic flares with my need to save her.
Some barrier deep within erupts while my mate bond pulses intensely.
It is like a key is turned in a lock within me, opening up a new part of my soul that is neither mine nor hers, but ours for the taking.
All I understand is that my power amplifies tenfold.
That it is because we accepted our mate bond.
I use the explosive force of it all at once, channeling it into my air magic and my ability to compel, to control the muscles of others.
One moment I am in a crush of bodies. The next, my enemies are being tossed through the air like ragdolls, opening up a path right through the heart of the crowd toward the palace.
Their bodies shatter from the inside as their blood boils and their muscles fly apart, blood, limbs and viscera spraying outward with force.
I walk through that gruesome path, moisture falling upon me like rain and bones crunching beneath my boots. I don’t even have to raise a blade.
Enemies a hundred feet away all drop their weapons, frozen in place by my magic, waiting for my justice.
When I reach them, as I walk past, they explode just like the others in my range.
I don’t even spare a glance at the fae who dared to take up arms against me.
Who revolted against this lawful election.
This pattern goes on and on, all the way up the main highway to the foot of the palace.
The people who betrayed me, betrayed my queen, they die in waves of crimson, while my loyalists stroll through behind me.
It isn’t until we reach the siege line of the Spring army surrounding the foot of the palace that this feat of magic fails me, leaving me shaking like a boy in the depths of his first battle.
The fighting is at its most intense here: our soldiers pushing forward in a methodical attack and Titania’s warriors attempting to hold them back. The wall of bodies is so thick, there is no chance of me penetrating through, not without breaking our own line first.
It is absolute chaos, a dozen warriors deep, the ground covered in the dead or the injured trying to crawl away from the boots that trample them.
The fae in the middle stand upon a pile of the fallen, giving them the illusion of being much taller than the rest. Swords and axes thrash wildly, swooping up then swinging back down, scattering crimson droplets.
The screams and guttural cries erupting from them are almost as bad as the smell—the iron tang of spilled blood mixed with the urine and worse of those who soiled themselves in their last moments.
There is no dignity in death, and less in war.
Many of our soldiers have made it through the unorganized ranks of our enemies, charging up the multiple staircases that lead to the entrances of the palace. They choke those spaces, mingling with more of Titania’s forces and fighting their way to doors clogged with defenders.
“There’s no way we are getting through that this side of sunrise,” Jasper grumbles as he stops at my side, pointing with his sword.
“Those of us who can base jump will make it over,” Silvan growls. “Have you remembered what I taught you, Jasper?”
“There is not enough fucking time,” I snap, my eyes straining upward, toward the golden glint of cages at the highest point of the palace, knowing Keira suffers within one. That Drake and Sasha are there alongside her.
My eye is drawn back to the fighting on the ground.
Thick shadows billow from a central point before us, curling and pouring out of two obscured figures with clasped hands.
Midnight rears up in a massive, thrashing tidal wave dozens of feet tall, then crashes down over the front line where the two armies clash.
Truth Templars and Wildrose Guards clutch at their throats, tearing at the flesh with their fingernails until blood seeps down their necks, as tendrils of darkness wrap around them and choke the life out of them. Hundreds fall to the ground, dead, while my forces remain untouched.
My mouth dries as the forms of Belladonna and Valentine resolve out of the inky shroud, the source of those shadows. I cannot believe I once thought I could win in a duel to the death against them.
There is a pause in the fighting as every single soldier reels from the display of magic that effectively took out an entire regiment, then enemy forces flood down the staircases of the palace to replenish the fallen ranks.
In the brief moments of calm, the Mistress and Master of the Assassins of Belladonna lead their force through the barricade.
They base jump over the top of the wall of bodies and friendly soldiers, their indigo robes billowing around them.
Some of the Truth Templars leap up on platforms of hardened air to meet them as they join the fight, but it is not a common skill in my court.
The assassins quickly scale the very walls of the palace, completely ignoring the staircases, a feat my regiment is not magically equipped to follow.
Those shadows erupt from them again and again, causing a constant rain of Wildrose Guards to fall from windows and parapets, but there are always more to take their place.
To choke up any small entry point into the palace.
On the open space of a battlefield, Belladonna and Valentine’s ability would be unstoppable, especially if they penetrated enemy ranks.
Against the fortifications of a palace, it is limited by the need for the shadows to probe and seek out its victims. To sort friend from foe in chaos.
It is still enough to cause a cold sweat to erupt across my skin. I thank the gods they fight on my side.
My heart pounds savagely as I scan the carnage for a way in for my task force, as the two sides clash again with renewed vigor. Only moments have passed, but the enemy line is just as strong again, like the assassins were never here.
Then my eyes snag on the dragons.
Some fly over the top of the enemy line, blasting their breaths of flame or poison over any concentrated pockets of fighters they find.
Others clamp their massive jaws over the heads and shoulders of fae, picking them off the battlefield one at a time and dropping them from a height.
My fae who ride on their backs shoot their magic into the fray below.
“I hope you assholes aren’t afraid of dragons,” I toss over my shoulder toward my most loyal followers, and their lips split into manic, blood-splattered grins.
I am finally within the range of the dragon riders and I use my compulsion to call upon every single one. I glance behind me to find the main boulevard still empty of enemies. Any who stumble out into the gore throw up and stagger away. Hundreds of my soldiers wait in a column for my command.
The ground shakes as the huge forms of dragons land all around us. I raise my sword in the air, instantly capturing the attention of all. “Tonight, we will ride on the backs of dragons and fly to the grand balcony. We will storm the main entrance of the palace and kill the High Chancellor!”
Cheers rise up from my soldiers.
I turn to the largest dragon with midnight scales. “Prince Bartholomew, with your approval, I would have your clan ferry my elite force up to the top of the palace to make our last stand.”
King Aldrin, I would scorch this High Chancellor with my own flames and consume her charcoaled body for having her people fire bolts at my father, he rumbles, lowering his wings and leg so fae can scale him.
The other dragons do the same, each taking a handful of my warriors.
They will need to make multiple trips to get us all up to the grand balcony.
I find Edmund in the crowd, on a smaller red dragon he has been riding to lead his force of humans from the air.
I can only assume Caitlin is at their front line on the ground, barking out orders.
Edmund would not have received my command, but would have seen the movements of the others and followed it anyway.
I bow to the red, ask its permission to mount, then pull myself up its leg.
My motions are so frantic I slice my hand on a spine, but barely feel the pain.
“Did you get to Keira? Could you free her?” I ask as he holds out a hand and pulls me up the last few steps. Nervous anticipation whips through me like lightning, even though I know the answer. If my love were free, I would feel her down our mate bond.
Edmund’s features shudder, his lips twisting downward. “We couldn’t break open the cage. It only absorbed our magic. Nothing can destroy it, not fire and not raw power. We have to kill Titania to break the enchantment.”
I stumble as the dragon rises from the ground, beating its powerful wings and sending a torrent of air swirling around us.
“Take me to her,” I command the dragon, not caring how it bristles and protests about bolts. This one is weaker-willed than most. It doesn’t even threaten to eat me.
My heart breaks at the sight of Keira. At what they have reduced her to.
Her face is deathly pale and her hair hangs limp around it, both drenched in sweat.
Her hands, torso and arms are slicked with blood.
My chest tightens painfully at the wounds they must have inflicted on her with a sword or spear, and the deep gouges from the fucking metal spikes within her cage.
Her body sways from side to side and her eyes keep rolling back in her head, then snapping open quickly.
I take in Drake, hanging at her side, who leans toward her and speaks frantically, urging her to stay awake. He gives me a single curt nod in acknowledgment.
“She wasn’t this bad when we left her.” Edmund runs a hand through his fiery hair. He looks close to tears.
The red dragon lands on the wall beside Keira’s cage, digging its claws into stone and tucking its wings in.
This time, fae, you are going to fire at the catapults before they try to kill me, instead of leaving me vulnerable like a puka in a web, the red dragon snarls, and Edmund begins a defensive fire.
I climb down the dragon’s body until I am level with Keira. She is hardly aware of my presence. My stomach drops. “I am going to get you out of here, dear heart. I just need you to hold on.”
I throw everything I have at that fucking barbaric golden cage. Raw magic. Air picks in the lock. I send branches from the Wisteria of Mythanar over the palace wall and use its might to try to pry the bars open.
Nothing works. Nothing. Fucking. Works. It only makes the enchantment flare each time.
“We have tried it all, son,” Edmund calls out. “Killing the High Chancellor is the only way. We are running out of time to save her.”
Keira’s eyes peel open and finally focus on me. “Aldrin?” Her voice is the softest murmur and I almost miss it.
“What have they done to you?” I reach through the bars and she reaches back.
Our clasped hands shake. I don’t know if it is her who trembles violently, or me.
Perhaps it is both of us. The blood of our fresh cuts intermingles, mine entering her body and hers entering mine.
I take in a sharp breath as I feel her inside me, our mate bond flickering between us.
I don’t know how it is possible with the cage severing magic inside it, but I force more of our wounds together just to feel her again.
It is like I have pierced the surface of an iced-over pool and dragged in air after nearly suffocating. I don’t waste a second of it.
Keira’s life force is so incredibly weak it terrifies me.
I force as much of my raw magic and essence as I can through the faint bond between us, down narrow paths and frayed threads, when I am used to a highway.
I keep going, even when her eyes open fully and brighten, even when the color returns to her face, giving away too much but offering up more.
I would give her everything: all of my power, my life force, just so she could survive.
“Aldrin!” Her grip on me tightens. “Aldrin, you need to stop. Save something for yourself. You still need to fight.”
“I need you to live.” I push more into her. “There is no point in fighting if you do not live.”
Keira blocks the connection between us, pulling her hand away. “You need to go, Aldrin. There are more guards rushing toward the dragon catapults. Fight for me. Kill Titania. Then come save me. You can’t do any more now.”
I stare into her eyes for too long, searching, unable to leave.
Edmund wraps his large hands over my shoulders and pulls me away, back up the dragon. “We cannot save her until that enchantment is broken,” he chokes out, wiping a tear from his face.
Flying away from Keira, leaving her in such a vulnerable state—it is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
I may have topped her up, but it will only last so long.
I wasn’t even able to heal the wounds draining her of blood, and that cage will continue to steal her magic with every brush against her skin.
I try and fail not to think about her fainting from blood loss within her cage and falling onto those long, sharp spikes. Vivid images of them piercing her body, right through her organs and poking out the other side, keep rising within my mind, turning my blood to ice.
Edmund holds out a hand and I look at it with confusion. “I know what you did for my daughter. You have drained yourself. Take some of my magic to refill your reservoir. You can do that, with your healing powers, right?”
I nod. All fae can combine powers by weaving into the same wield, but sharing raw magic is unique to my court.
I take just enough to revitalize myself, without drawing too much. I do it while the dragon is spiraling down toward the broad balcony right before the main entrance of the palace, where our last battle will be held.