An agonized scream tore from Fenlin's lips, a sound so piercing it sent a lance through her heart, spurring her feet to move even faster. She spun, lunging toward the buffet, and snatched the nearest weapon—a glass decanter.
Elara flung it toward Osin's head, wine trailing behind it like a comet's tail. But just as it neared its target, an unnatural gust summoned by a Legionnaire swerved it off course.
Around the room, the Legion moved as one. They were a tide of lethal power, each step and gesture coordinated to form a protective barrier around their lord.
Before Elara could catch her breath, much less concoct any semblance of a plan, rough hands grabbed her, shoving her toward the grand buffet with bruising force.
She slammed into the table, the impact forcing a hiss from her throat. Dishes shattered, wood splintered, all thundering in her ears. Before she could catch herself, she hit the floor with a brutal thud, pain flaring up her side, ripping a deep, guttural groan from her throat.
Gods.She couldn't see.
Once, twice—she blinked, but it made no difference. Her heart raced, panic gnawing at its edges as she tried to rise, to clear the blood streaming from a gash on her forehead. Her hands, trembling, fumbled in darkness until they found fabric, whimpering as she pressed it firmly against her head.
Fenlin.
Elara lifted her head, eyes darting through the shadows?—
Her blood turned to ice.
She blinked, heart hammering, as Osin’s power tightened around Fenlin’s neck, spiraling down his body.
Then—slowly—guided by nothing but Osin’s will, a vial slipped from Fenlin’s inner pocket.
It hovered in the air between them.
The glint of her blood, catching the dim light.
“Such boldness, Fenlin.” Osin’s voice dripped with venom. “I almost admire it.Almost.”
Fenlin was shaking, not with fear, but with a rage so intense Elara could almost feel its heat. Their eyes locked in a silentexchange, a blaze that leaped across the space between them, before he turned his fierce gaze back to Osin.
“You might sit on that throne, feasting while the rest of us starve,LordOsin,” he rasped, blood flecking his lips. “But remember, empty bellies breed brave hearts.The realm remembers.”
A hush blanketed the scene.
Then, in the blink of an eye, Osin’s shadow struck. A sickening snap echoed through the room.
Fenlin’s neck.
Elara’s vision tunneled. A roar filled her ears. Her chest heaved, gasping for air, lungs burning like she was drowning on dry land. Desperate, she scrambled forward, fingers clawing at the floor as she dragged herself closer. Closer to Fenlin. To the stillness.
Glass bit into her palms, her knees. Every inch felt like a mile, grief and shock making her limbs heavy. But before she could touch him—a rough hand yanked her up.
A vise-like grip that swung her over a broad, armored shoulder.
She thrashed, fists pounding uselessly against the solid back of her captor, legs kicking wildly, desperate to break free. Her gaze locked on Fen, refusing to let go, silently begging for any sign of life.
But there was nothing. Only the cruel shadow cast over his face, the unnatural angle of his neck, and the way his fingers curled inward.
Hot, bitter tears mixed with the blood dripping from her temple as she struggled. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to look at Osin. To see the twisted satisfaction in the cruel curl of his lips.
Her scream ripped through the silence, while his arched brow mocked her from across the room and seared into her memory. Another scar to carve into her already broken heart.
Then, as if the ground itself rebelled, her captor tore open the fabric of the world beneath them and leapt into the gaping maw of a swirling rift.
A soft breeze,redolent of blooming oíche blossoms, whipped against Elara as they burst free from the rift, drying the tears and blood that had painted tracks down her cheeks. The gentle zephyr belied the savage grip encircling her waist, her body swaying with each purposeful stride of the man who carried her.
Her vision pitched between smears of darkness and fleeting glimpses of the pale moonlight. Each forceful step he took sent jolts through her, a cruel rhythm as he stalked his way down the mossy path that led to her prison.
