Distant thunder growls, and I question how much of the approaching storm is natural and how much is connected to the East Wind’s fury. The bare trees rattle ominously as, turning on his heel, Eurus heads for the front gate, his gaze locked on Lady Clarisse and her trailing army.
Catching the fabric of his cloak, I try to yank him back, but I have all the strength of a leaf in autumn, and he doesn’t falter. He is simply too strong.
“Eurus, please, you have to get out of h-here. They will catch you—”
The East Wind spins, breaking my hold. His eyes boil as he peers down at me. He is every shade of gloom, every facet of the realm’s darkest corners. My heart quails in his presence. “Let go,” he says.
I shake my head and manage to squeeze out, “They will kill you!”
“I am a god,” he rumbles, and a coil of air explodes from his palm, lashing toward Lady Clarisse. A shield erupts between Eurus’ power and her ladyship as Prince Balior casts the protective spell.
A flick of his wrist, and Eurus blasts the prince’s shield. A band of wind loops around Lady Clarisse’s neck, yanking her clear across the grounds. She screams, thrashing like a fish on a line, and my stomach pitches as she’s lifted high, legs kicking as they dangle, face blotched a ruddy pink, then violet, then blue.
“Eurus.” I am crying too hard to say much else. “Please…” Lady Clarisse has never shown me an ounce of kindness, but the thoughtof her brutally murdered,gone, plunges me into a spiral of confusion. “Please, don’t kill her.”
The East Wind’s expression hardens, masked by a rage so profound I can only assume that in this woman, he sees his father, who treated him no better than vermin. But I see it then—a crack running through the marble of his countenance.
His shoulders sag, and Eurus drops her onto the walkway amongst the dying grasses and weeds. Before I’m able to properly thank him, he brushes past me and launches skyward.
I race after him, but Lady Clarisse snags my ankle from where she has fallen. “I don’t think so,” she spits.
I kick out. She releases me with a snarl.
I sprint down the walkway, past the rusted gate, before lurching to a halt. Prince Balior’s soldiers have ceased their forward march, arrows aimed at Eurus, who dives, down, down, down. A ravenous darkness rolls toward the East Wind, who spins to avoid its touch.
“Now!” Prince Balior shouts.
Arrows loose. The East Wind drops to avoid the deadly points. While the men reload, he speeds toward a soldier and blasts a hole clean through the man’s stomach.
I lift a hand to my mouth. A second soldier succumbs to the same fate. All the while, Prince Balior’s power chases the East Wind through the sky, over the surrounding forest. Another burst of shadow swarms Eurus’ torso, but he generates a sphere of air that expands outward, forcing the wisps off his skin. Even I can see that his speed flags. He has yet to recover his strength from the final trial.
There must be a way to help him.
Spinning around, I dash toward the estate, the front door clapping shut as I trip across the threshold. I’m rifling through drawers when I recallThe Practice of Herbal Remedies, nestled safely against my waistband. I rip the volume free, flip to a section in the back: airborne poisons.
“I’ll take that.” Lady Clarisse snatches the book before I’m able to consider my options. She tucks it into her apron smugly. “Whateverplans fill that empty head of yours, discard them. Prince Balior will overpower the East Wind easily.” Of this, she seems certain. “It is only a matter of time.”
My breath comes short. I fight the urge to shrink, as I have done countless times before. Looking at Lady Clarisse, the woman who birthed me, I see how she has aged, fine lines charting the years of her derision toward my existence. An elixir of immortality may protect her from death and the pain of losing a loved one, but it cannot eradicate the poison in her heart.
“Give me the book, Lady Clarisse.”
She quirks an eyebrow, gives me a scornful once-over. Her facial scar, usually smoothed over by her beauty teas, is more prominent than ever, an engorged vine crawling across her features. She received the mark when a splintered plank from my father’s capsized boat tore open her cheek. According to Nan, Lady Clarisse was able to cling to a large rock until another fisherman rescued her. By then, the sea had already claimed my father’s life.
“You are either with me or against me, Min,” she murmurs. “Remember who stole you from your home. Remember whogaveyou a home.” She reaches for me, and I recoil—yet her hand is gentle as it curves around my upper arm. She guides me to the bay window overlooking the grounds.
“See that man?” She taps a fingertip against the windowpane. “He is not from our realm. He has no interest in your life. I am doing you a favor, understand? One day, he will leave you. And you will be alone.”
I watch the East Wind fell four soldiers in less than a heartbeat. He wields no weapons, no arrows or tempered steel. He has only his fists, which find the soft, vulnerable parts of their bodies, and his winds, which act as his blades, slicing into guts or cutting across bared throats.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper. “Why align y-yourself with this prince? He is dangerous.”
“It’s business, Min. I want the East Wind’s heart, and Prince Balior is all too happy to help me acquire it. When every last god in the mortal realms is dead, none will have the strength to oppose theprince and his growing army. The East Wind is all that stands between him and total control.”
“Eurus will give you nothing,” I whisper. “Hewillfight. And I already told you that his ax was lost in the tournament.”
“As it turns out, there are other ways of getting what I want, with Prince Balior’s aid.” Gripping my shoulders tightly, she murmurs into my ear, “He is a god. His world is not yours. It never will be.”
Maybe. But I would never forgive myself if I did not do everything in my power to save him.
