We head back to the small cadre of warriors, placing our helmets on as we reclaim our places in front. “You ready, D?”
The bogatyr turns to me, his eyes already red with bloodlust. He grasps my forearm firmly and repeats the vow he made to me the night we rescued his sister. “Kogda ugodno, gde ugodno, chto ugodno.”
It’s a heavy moment between us that says so much more than those three simple words can convey. We’ve been through a lot together over the last year, and our bond of friendship is closer to that of brothers now, seeing as the most important person to us is the same fiery female we love more than our own lives.
I answer back in the genuine spirit of brotherhood. “Whenever, wherever, whatever.”
We nod at each other, then I draw my swords and call out, “Positions!”
Everyone readies their weapons at my command. Those of us on the low ground with our iron swords, and the warriors on the high ground form bows and arrows made of their violet fire.
I nod to Taryn, and she begins whispering the incantation that will hide us from Edevane’s sight. Less than a minute after we’re concealed, the first line of Light Warriors crests the rise, marching with disciplined precision. Another three minutes and the valley is half-full.
Dmitri crosses his iron swords and drags one blade over the other, speaking to the approaching enemy as though they’ll hear him in their subconscious. “I am D’Yavol. I will bathe in your blood and claim your souls for hell.”
I give him a brief sidelong glance. “Remind me never to piss you off, Romanov.”
The tension in the air grows heavier as they near the point of no return. Fifty feet. My muscles are vibrating with unspent adrenaline. Thirty. They’re so close I can see the color of their electric green eyes. Fifteen feet. The eerie howls of wolves about to hunt echo in the valley.
“NOW!”
The Néit on the hills unleash a torrent of fiery arrows into the center of the Light Warriors. Explosions of flames erupt in their midst, throwing their formation into disarray and engulfing some of them in powerful fire magic.
Dmitri and I charge forward with our group, swords raised, meeting the Light Warriors head-on. The clash is immediate and brutal. Swords clang against swords, and the air is filled with the sounds of battle. I parry a strike aimed at my head and counter with a swift slash, feeling the satisfaction of my blade connecting with flesh.
I spare a quick glance over my shoulder to check on Taryn. She’s in her original position and dialed-in, using her newfound abilities to fight from a distance. “Finn!” she shouts at me.
I turn around just in time to see one of her stockpiled boulders appear in mid-air and smash into the chest of a Light Warrior about to remove my head. When he’s gasping for air on the ground, I follow him down and slice through his neck with the dagger on my hip, his arterial blood spraying my armor.
There’s no time to thank her for the save as I see a warrior next to me, his sword raised and ready to slice me in half. I thrust my dagger into his belly, and when he bends over from the pain, I grab him behind the neck and flip him over me onto his back before delivering a death blow between his eyes.
Shoving to my feet, I push farther into the fray, slicing through the enemy as I go. I hear the vicious sounds of screaming fae being torn limb from limb by the Woulfe brothers and know their idea to handle the rear of the formation was a good one.
“Where is Edevane?” Dmitri growls as he cuts down another opponent several yards away, his bloodred eyes scanning the battlefield.
“I don’t see him,” I reply, thrusting a sword through a Light Warrior’s chest, then kicking him to free my weapon. “Probably waiting until most of the work is done. He’ll show himself eventually. Stay frosty.”
Cathal’s warriors continue to rain down fire from the hills, their precision devastating. I see clouds of fog hiding our injured and boiling water hitting opponents with the force of a firehose. The Lights are skilled, but without their own magic, they’re no match against the Fires.
The battle rages on, grueling and intense. Dmitri’s swords slash in silver blurs. The twins continue to shred through the back, the rust-red fur on their heads and chests now matted and nearly black with blood. The enemy’s numbers are dwindling, but there’s still no sign of Edevane.
I kick a guy in the side who’s swinging a saber toward Dmitri. The blade still catches him in the arm, but I knock the Light off-balance enough that it doesn’t do more damage than that. Dmitri recovers and attacks quick as a viper, sinking his deadly fangs into the guy’s neck and ripping out his throat before dropping the lifeless body to the ground.
Taryn shows up on my other side and joins the close combat, using her short swords like they’re an extension of her body. “This doesn’t feel right,” she shouts as she ducks a strike and sweeps their feet out from under them. “We’re winning too easily.”
“Da, sestra. Like lambs to the slaughter.”
They’re right, something’s wrong about all this. I thought he was just waiting to make his move, but— A cold dread settles over me. He was never waiting.
“This is a distraction! A way to keep us busy while he goes after what he really wants.”
Taryn’s eyes widen with sudden realization. “My mother.”
“Fuck!” I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.
“Finn, we have to go to her!”
Cathal, who at some point joined the fight on the low ground, shouts, “Go! Save the queen! We’ll finish this!”
I nod in affirmation, then give a shrill whistle. “Connor! Conall!” Their heads raise up, ears perked. “On me!”
Taryn and Dmitri have already shed their armor suits to allow for maximum speed, and I do the same. Then the five of us take off at lightning-fast speeds across Tír Tairngire toward the city of Ildathach, the Summer Palace, and Edevane.
FORTYTARYN
Edevane is a godsdamned monster.
He used the spear and his powers—no, my powers—to annihilate a path through Ildathach on his way to the palace, slaughtering innocent fae as he went.
Racing through the blood-soaked streets, bile creeps up my throat and saliva pools in my mouth with the need to vomit. But I force it down and keep going, vowing to come back after we annihilate him.
My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Fear claws at my insides, sharp and relentless. For centuries, my mother and I were estranged, the chasm between us filled with bitterness and unspoken words.
Now, with every passing minute, the possibility of her being taken from me just like Devlyn and my father terrifies me.
As we pass the city’s far border, the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood assault my senses. The once-pristine palace grounds are battle-stained and littered with the Néit left behind in case any of the Light Warriors got past us. They never stood a chance against Edevane.
My magic thrums beneath my skin, wild and potent, fear threatening to unravel my control. I push harder, driven by the desperate hope that we can save her.
Rushing through the entrance to the gardens, we skid to a halt in the center of the courtyard. Finn is on my right, Dmitri on my left, and the wolves are bracketing us on the ends, all of us breathing hard from traveling so far and so fast. But each of our gazes is glued to the horrific scene before us.
Edevane stands proudly, the golden legendary Spear of Assal gleaming in his hand, as though he’s posing for an honorary monument in his likeness.
And next to him, on her knees, is my mother, her beautiful wings shredded like they were sliced through, again and again, by a dozen arrows. Or a single flying spear.
Aine’s eyes meet mine with a fierceness that belies her vulnerable position. Her face is tear-stained, but she holds her head high, her regal presence and inner strength never extinguished.
“You bastard,” I seethe, my magic flowing into my hands.
“Glad you could make it, Your Highnesses,” he says to me and Finn, the smug smirk ever-present on his face. “We’ve been waiting for you, haven’t we, Aine? I felt it was only fair to let you witness your epic failure, since you’ve worked so hard to prevent this very moment.”
Finn takes a careful step forward. “Enough of this insanity, Edevane! If being back in Faerie is what you want, let her go and negotiate for ruling over your own region again.”
The Light King laughs like he just heard a charming joke at a dinner party. “That might have worked for my father, but I have much bigger aspirations than the Day Court, and it’s time I get what I’m due.”
Without warning he says, “Ibar,” and tosses the spear straight at us, but at the halfway mark, it turns around in a wide arc, doubling back…and skewers Aine’s chest as if she was made of paper.
My world stops, narrowing to the sight of my mother crumpling to the ground. I can’t move, I can’t breathe. I’m paralyzed as the past and present collide in a cruel twist of fate, this a gruesome echo of my father’s death mere weeks ago.
