The curse is over. It’s gone. Defeated. But I still face losing Baelen. Everything in my body aches. “Please tell me what to do. I won’t stop until he comes back to me. Tell me how to help him.”
She sucks in a breath. “You can’t help him. Only my people can.”
Her people? I take in her wings, her delicate skin, her rounded ears, and the fact that she is more beautiful than the males of her species—the gargoyles.
Her hand grips my arm. “If you want Baelen Rath to live, you must take him to the heart of Erador. You must take him to the gargoyles.”
I stare at her in disbelief. She wants me to take the male I love into the heart of our sworn enemies. “How can they help him when nobody else can?”
“The female gargoyles have a place, deep inside Mount Erador. There is a spring, which is the only water source that flows directly from Earth’s surface. They can harness the deep magic there. Only the deep magic can save him now.”
There are so many problems with what she just said. The gargoyles will kill me on sight for starters. Baelen too. I can’t just waltz into Erador and expect them to help me. I can’t leave Erawind either—I have to stay with the Vault to subdue the storm—although looking at the Storm right now, I’m not sure that’s a problem anymore.
Cautiously, I ask, “How are you here?”
She says, simply, “You freed me.”
“Then why aren’t you…” I wave my hands around. “Storming?”
“The Storm Vault never contained me. You did. I stayed there because that was where the first Storm Princess wanted me to stay. And the one after that. And you. Now, I’m here because you want me to be here. I’m calm because you want me to be calm.” She leans forward with a hint of a smile. “Don’t worry, if you die, I promise I will ‘storm.’”
I glance around at the Elven Command. Then I consider all the hurt and wounded warriors, as well as my closest friends: Elise, Jordan, Reisha, and Jasper too. Even Sebastian and Sahara. If I’m going to leave, I can’t leave them to the mercy of the Command. That’sifI’m going to leave, and I’m not even sure about that. “What if I don’t want you to be calm?”
A large smile breaks across her face, deliciously wicked in the way it lights up her eyes. “Then I will rage at your command.”
I close my eyes for a moment, exhaling my doubt and dread. Then I contemplate my frozen friends, deciding how I need this to play out. First of all, I need to know if what the Storm told me is true—that the only way to help Baelen is to take him to Erador. As a healer, Sahara can tell me whether that’s true or not.
I cross the distance to her first. She’s caught in a moment of despair, her line of sight trained on Baelen, running toward him. I brace in front of her, planting my feet and leaning forward to counter her momentum. Then I take hold of her wrist.
She comes alive, her legs moving, running straight into me, but I keep my hold and swing her around to slow her down.
She screams. “Princess!” Her eyes dart across the room where I was last placed. “But you…”
“Thunder,” I say.
She knows about me being able to use thunder to slow time so she catches up fast—especially given that everyone else is still frozen—but then her line of sight swivels back to me and she screams again as she catches sight of my hand on her arm. “Princess! Let go!”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Baelen has my power.”
She’s shaking. She doesn’t argue with me. “We have to help him.”
I’m relieved to know I was right about her: that she wouldn’t get distracted by the details. “Please, I need your help.”
I hurry with her to where Baelen lies. She immediately starts assessing his wounds, deftly peeling off parts of his armor, clicking her tongue unhappily.
I say, “I need to know if there’s anything you can do for him. I need to know if I have any alternatives.”
“Alternatives to what?” she asks, but she’s already distracted. “These wounds were caused by blades strengthened with sorcery. There’s no other way to pierce Rath armor. His wounds are deep, but it’s strange… He’s not bleeding. It’s almost like he’s…”
“Paused?” I ask, using the Storm’s description. “You’re right. He used the thunder on himself. What I need to know is whether you can heal him?”
She shakes her head, stricken pale. “A mortal wound caused by sorcery can only be countered by deep magic.”
Across the room, the Storm gives me a smug I-told-you-so shrug of her shoulders. I haven’t figured out yet whether Sahara can see her. I’m guessing not when the older female looks right through the Storm.
I return my attention to Sahara. “How do I find deep magic? Or create it? Or whatever it is that I do to get it?”
“The deep magic comes from life itself. You could give your life to save his, but somehow I don’t think he’d appreciate it.” She gives me a sad smile. “There’s only one other way, but it’s very dangerous.”
