My fingers flinch toward my waist again. I send my words to Aspen through the Bond.Are you sure? There will be no chance of a ceasefire.
“There obviously never was to begin with,” he says through his teeth.
I give a subtle nod.Tell the others.
In the blink of an eye, Aspen disappears. In that same moment, I reach for the nearest dagger on my weapons belt and lunge for the queen. Before she can react, I plunge the blade into her stomach. She calls out, eyes wide as she takes in the iron weapon protruding from her gut. I’m about to withdraw the dagger when I reconsider. The wound will only be fatal if it remains inside her long enough to poison her blood.
Footsteps pound behind me, the sound of the Alpha Alliance charging in. The Renounced surge forward as well, and I unsheathe two more iron daggers from beneath my gown. I advance toward Dahlia as she retreats from me, doubled over, face twisted in pain. Teeth bared, I prepare another strike of my blade, but a shadow swoops overhead, followed by the sound of flapping wings.
Winged fae descend from the sky, and one grasps long, curved talons beneath Dahlia’s arms and lifts her high above me. In a matter of seconds, she’s flown safely beyond my reach and out of sight.
Another set of talons is suddenly before me, and I have just enough time to lean back to avoid the deadly swipe. My fae opponent has a feline face with a mane of golden hair and wings like a falcon. She lets out a deafening roar before swiping out again. I duck under her reach and slice both blades across her ribs. She whirls back, hissing at the searing iron, but it only holds her back for a second before she charges again. This time, one of her claws grazes my left arm, opening the flesh over my bicep. I grit my teeth against the pain, fighting against the urge to drop the dagger from that hand.
Blood pours down my arm in rivulets of crimson, but I keep my eyes trained on my opponent as we circle each other. Sights and sounds of fighting surround us, but I don’t let it distract me as I assess her height, her build, seeking weaknesses. Her talons seem to be her only defense, as she wears no armor, carries no weapon. Her body is composed of soft flesh covered in short golden-brown fur. If I strike her several times with iron, she’ll eventually succumb to its effects. Grow weak. Heal slower. Even so, I hate to admit I’m at a disadvantage. Smaller. Shorter. Fleshy from head to toe.
But that’s without my flames.
I let my rage fuel every part of me, let it surge through my veins, ignite my palms, and dance over my fingertips. It crawls up my arms, burns down my back. I feel it knitting the skin back together where I’ve been sliced open, stopping the flow of blood. The heat blankets me, but my flames cause me no pain. They feel comforting, strong. Like form-fitting armor made just for me.
My opponent’s eyes widen at the sight of my tricolor flame, but she quickly replaces it with a glower. I fight my yearning to shift fully into my fox form, knowing human hands are needed to wield my iron blades.
“Is that all you have, human?” the fae teases. “Pretty little flames?”
I let my body form my reply, darting toward her with my daggers raised. As expected, she lunges with her talons, but I spin to the side, ducking under her arms, and grazing her forearm with the tip of one of my blades in the process. She hisses, and the momentary distraction gives me the opportunity to reach for one of her wings, letting the flames dancing over my arms ignite on contact. She swipes again, but I’m already retreating. She takes a step to close the distance but falters, her attention drawn to the fire crawling up her wings. The smell of singed feathers fills my nostrils, and as more of her wings are engulfed in flames, I suppress the wave of nausea that hits me. She begins to shout, spinning wildly to swat at the fire, but it’s no use.
I’m frozen in place, torn over what to do. She’s so distracted, I could charge in to make my killing blow. For a moment, I consider it a mercy, compared to the possibility of burning to death. Still, I find myself unable to move at all, consumed by a sudden horror at the thought of killing my opponent. I know I’ve killed before, but the others were personal or an act of self-defense. For the most part, I knew their crimes, their dark deeds. But this fae…
I retreat a step backward as my flames climb higher and higher up her back. My pulse races as I try to remind myself she’s my enemy, but it’s no use. Because the truth remains: for all I know, she could be like Foxglove or Lorelei. She could have been my friend or ally if the situation were different. It is only the queen she serves that pits her against me, not anything she’s personally said or done.
I call back my flames, willing them to extinguish from her wings. As soon as they’re gone, she falls to her knees in a wail of pain. I don’t bother waiting to see the extent of the damage. All I can think to do is run, dodge the fighting pairs that surround me. Run from this field of growing carnage.
But there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere safe from blood and blades.
Nothing to see but the bloodshed I’ve sparked.
25
When I resigned myself to break the treaty, I knew we’d go to war. I knew there’d be battles. Lives lost. But it’s one thing to know and another to actually see it.
All around me the Alpha Alliance engage in bloody combat with the Renounced. My breathing is labored as I whirl around, daggers still clenched in my fists as I struggle to keep my wits about me. Half my attention is focused on preparing for oncoming attackers while the other half seeks a pair of antlers and blue-black hair amidst the chaos. Finally, I spot my mate in his stag form, fighting Queen Phoebe. The Solar Queen swings a gold-tipped spear in furious swipes, but Aspen meets each thrust and jab with his antlers. My heart lurches, seeing his fur matted in places with red, but my view of him is cut off as another fighting pair—King Flauvis, tearing his vicious fangs into the leg of the female sea fae—moves in front of them.
The sight chills my bones, but not because of the blood that streams down the sea fae’s scaly leg; it’s because it reminds me of someone else.
Clenching my jaw, I steel my nerves and seek signs of Cobalt. My fire returns with every step I take, so strong I hardly register the soldier who charges me. It’s another one of Phoebe’s winged fae, this one far more humanlike, aside from his elongated beakish nose and tufts of feathers on the tips of his pointed ears. When he swipes out with his sword, I dodge back, blocking the tip with my crossed daggers. As he prepares another strike, fire encases my hands, dancing over my blades.
My intention wraps around the flame, shaping it to my will. Fire. Air. Movement. The fire leaves my daggers, hovering above them in a fiery, pink orb.
In a flash, I send the flame shooting to the curve of brown wings folded over the fae’s shoulder. As it ignites the feathers, the soldier falters, slapping his palm in an attempt to stamp out the flame. I use the distraction to leave the fae behind, once again seeking Cobalt. I take hardly five steps before I’m forced to halt behind a writhing mass of bodies, groaning in agony. Above them, Nyxia, in her shadow form, reaches smoky black tendrils to each of their heads. She seems to grow larger and darker with every beat of my racing heart.
Keeping a wide berth, I skirt around the moaning fae to the edge of the battlefield. Finally, I see what I’m looking for.
Cobalt stands in the distance at the crest of a nearby dune, my sister locked in his arms. She still looks as if she’s in pain, face twisted as she sags against him. I pump my legs and race toward them. Cobalt has the sense to look startled, stiffening as I draw near. He retreats a few steps, dragging my sister with him, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he stands his ground.
“Stop, Evelyn!” he shouts. “Can’t you see she’s being tortured?”
He doesn’t say it like a threat, but his words slow my attack nonetheless. Keeping my daggers clenched tightly in my fists, I shift to a jog, only coming to a stop when I’m a dozen feet away. Everything in me wants to keep moving, keep closing the distance until Cobalt’s neck is wrapped in my fiery hands. But even though he’s refusing to join the battle, I must remember he’s fought Aspen before and came out of it alive. He isn’t harmless.
And now he has my sister.
