“What are you doing?” she tried to shout, but Vyr’s hand muffled her words.
“Eliminating threats,” Vyr answered quietly, as if he’d heard her.
Lara stared at Mor, mind whirling, heart thumping.
The Shee had just double-crossed them.
“It had to be done.” Mor’s voice was calm, even as she continued to pin Alar down, twisting the dagger every time he tried to free himself. She glanced at the swirling rift then. The shadows within boiled now. “It’s time.” Her gaze cut back to where Vyr held on to Lara, even as she fought him. “Don’t let her go. Wait until the Half-blood is taken and then hurl her in after him.”
And with that, Mor gave the blade a final twist. She then leaped off Alar, leaving the dagger embedded, and backed up swiftly, just as four bog wights exploded from the rift: large broad-shouldered males. They rushed at Alar, their webbed hands tipped in curving claws fastening around his arms.
He fought them. But they clung on—dragging him toward the rift.
Lara screamed against Vyr’s hand, even as her ring flashed bright crimson. She needed to wield fire, but she didn’t have a flame to connect with.
Mor looked her way once more. “This is the final stage. Two rivals eliminated in one stroke.”
Lara jerked her gaze from where Alar struggled and twisted under the Fuath, to Mor.You bitch!
Meanwhile, Alar dug his heels into the ground. Mor had stabbed him to weaken him, to make him an easier victim. But, even injured, he was proving hard to wrestle into the gap. His eyes started to glow red then. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he snarled. Lara gasped. His wolf’s head tattoo. The earth magic was fighting back.
And yet, only a few yards remained.
Panic surged through Lara.They were going to take him, and she couldn’t stop them.
A tall lean figure clad in black burst into the circle, dark hair flying behind him.
Mor snarled something in the Shee tongue.
Wynn Sablebane ignored his queen. Instead, his blade sliced into one of the bog wights, severing its head. He then stabbed another through the eye. Brackish water gushed over the ground.
Sablebane whirled, drawing his arm back to take down another of the Fuath.
Mor drew a dagger and hurled it at him. It hit him in the guts with a dull thud, embedding to the hilt. He reeled backward—even as two more Fuath crawled from the rift and hurled themselves at Alar.
Sablebane lay on his side, curled up. He’d yanked out the blade. It lay next to him, gleaming with blood. Face twisting in agony, he rolled toward Lara. However, his gaze didn’t rest on her, but on the male holding her fast.
“You’re expendable, Vyr,” he gasped. “We all are.”
“Idiot,” Vyr growled. However, Lara felt his strong body tense against hers. “What have you done?”
“I’ve orders to kill you,” Sablebane grunted out the words. “Once Alar and Lara are gone and the rift is sealed, I will slide a knife between your ribs.” He grimaced as agony clutched at him. “She doesn’t suffer rivals.”
“Ignore him.” Mor now stalked around the knot of Fuath who still struggled with Alar. She was heading toward Sablebane, her longsword drawn. “He’s lost his mind.”
A heartbeat pulsed.
“Close the rift,” Vyr rasped in Lara’s ear.
And then, to her shock, he let her go. Just like that.
Drawing his sword, he intercepted Mor. Alar was just two yards from the rift now. Agony twisted his lean features. Yet he fought on.
A savage cry tore from Mor’s lips as she swung her sword at her cousin. He brought his blade up to block her. Clashing steel rang across the promontory, echoing off stone.
Another figure burst into the circle then—lithe and fast, her dark cloak billowing. Fern.
Alar’s half-sister didn’t hesitate. She rushed toward where her father lay bleeding, just as more Fuath began crawling from the rift, drawn by Sablebane’s fresh blood. Her blade flashed as she positioned herself over him, slashing at the bog wights.
