Another contingent of soldiers rushes in to defend the king, trying to cut me off from him. I hold my hand out and gold pours down, forming a sword just as the first soldier lifts a weapon and swings it at me. My metal hardens in an instant to meet the attack, and our blades clash.
The soldier’s sword shatters on impact, and shards go flying off. I raise my weapon and slam it into his neck, slicing right through with the sharpened edge.
More soldiers rush at me, so I call to my saturated ribbons. With a dozen on each side, they bend before me like layered ribs, and then fling back with amazing strength. It sends four soldiers flying.
The others coming in to attack me don’t get as close. I’ve pooled gold at my feet, and I waste no time using it. It rises, like a tidal wave against a beach. The soldiers freeze, staring up at its swell before they try to turn and run back. With a mighty force, the swell crashes down over them, knocking them off their feet, their armored bodies swept away.
A crackling in the air warns me of magic a split second before a flame nearly hits me. Gold brackets around my palm, elongating into a shield. I raise it just in time for the magic stream of hot fire to slam against it.
I’m not sure how my gold will hold up against the flames, but already, the scent of hot metal soaks the air. Before the fire can melt through, I call on the lines of rot instead, and they latch onto the soldier, choking him out with veins of black and sputtering out his flames as he perishes.
Vicious victory spreads through my expression.
There’s a shout, and I look up to see King Carrick sneering at me. He has Emonie by her hair, and her face is a mixture of fury and fear that makes me pause. “You attack, and she’s dead!”
My reply is a growl. “I think you’ve threatened me enough, Stone King.”
But then, there’s a rumble, like a quaking earth.
Everyone seems to still, attention jerked toward the city. Down the packed streets, people start to scream.
The sound makes my stomach dip right down to my toes.
Something is coming. Something big. Powerful. I can feel the magic in the air like it’s brushing against my skin.
The king looks positively gleeful. “The Breaker comes,” he says with a threatening twist of his lips.
My insides wring, mind trying to soak up the inherent fear and discover its meaning.
Who’s The Breaker?
The pitted-out points in my head echo, reverberating with a single flash.
My bones breaking. Arm, ribs. Inescapable pain.
Then the cold, heartless face of the fae who voiced those ugly words.“Give them a mockery.”
With fingers curling into fists, I look at the king, and he’s waiting for my reaction, hoping I’ll be afraid.
I’m not.
They’ve already tried to break me, but instead, I brokefree.
Another fae lobs magic at me, and my ribbon extends, smacking the magic away in a spray of sparks that rain down. Someone else—a soldier to my right—slaps his hands together, and a cloud of magic bursts between his palms. It coalesces like smoke, maybe dense with poison based on the greenish tinge. My magic can’t fight against air, so I melt down my shield and slam the thick cord forward.
It hits him and the soldiers nearby, knocking them off their feet before covering them with thick, syrupy strings that net around them and hold them down.
Then I go for the king.
Using the gold puddled at my feet, I send strips forward, thin enough that they dodge Emonie and wrap around Carrick’s throat. But he retaliates before I can finish cinching. The stone beneath my feet cracks apart as it juts up and tries to dislodge me. I go falling backward on the tipping stonework, but my ribbons lash out, catching me before my skull can crack against the ground.
Leaping to my feet with frustration, I cast magic toward the king, but he tosses up a stone barrier again in front of him and Emonie.
My magic slams into it, clanging wildly, the metal denting.
Sweat drips down my temples, and I stagger, my body reminding me of how drained I already was. Worry spreads down my spine, but determination fills in the cracks.
I can’t let him defeat me. Iwon’t.
