Then, refocusing on the thrum of magic against her palms, she spoke to themora. “I am Aveline Corasande Caelan, Queen of Lela, Queen of Magic. Heed my edict. Move at my command.”
* * *
Ailan whirledthis way and that, waiting for Darius to reappear.
He didn’t.
Her stomach sank, telling her everything she needed to know before her whispers confirmed it.
North.
Look north.
There he was, the lone figure upon the farthest cliff she could see. Fanon’s squad had kept the fighting relegated south of that point, as was his directive. With his abilities as a skyweaver—giving shape, form, and pressure to air—he could forcibly push back anyone who tried to get too close. Yet she couldn’t see any sign of her consort in the fray, and now the one person they needed to keep off that cliff was there.
Alone.
His stillness told her he was waiting for her.
With no other option, she gestured for Uziel and climbed back upon his shoulders. She didn’t take her eyes off her brother as her dragon flew her to him, landing on the coastal road not far from the nearest skirmish. From the buzz ofmorahumming through her, she knew Cora had yet to send the magic back through the Veil. However, she sensed…something. Themorawasn’t moving in reverse yet, but it was reacting.
She had to keep her brother distracted long enough.
She dismounted her dragon, chest heaving with rage, and closed the distance between her and Darius.
He met her blade with a speed and fury he’d kept at bay until now. “Always, you underestimate me. Did you truly believe I couldn’t sense themora? You think you’re that much stronger than me? You’ve always thought too highly of yourself.”
It took all her strength to parry his strikes, to knock back his blade, to whirl to face him whenever he moved through space. Even with the tear so close, even with the tingle of themorafueling her, fatigue was settling into her bones.
Or was it the crushing whisper that foretold of her defeat?
She pushed through the heaviness in her limbs, the tightness in her chest. She’d succeeded in getting under Darius’ skin with her comment about Mareleau and Ferrah. Before that, her blow to his breastplate had made him vulnerable. All she needed was one chance. Just a moment to plunge one of the collar’s talons into his skin and sever his head from his neck.
That was all it would take.
Then it would be over.
She would win.
You won’t.
You won’t.
You won’t.
Her whispers didn’t taunt, they caressed. Like a mother laying a child to sleep.
She swung her blade.
Darius disappeared.
Reappeared behind her.
But she was too slow.
His blade slashed open her thigh.
She cried out as she lost her footing. With a weapon in both hands, she struggled to catch herself as she fell to the slick grass. She planted her good leg beneath her, fought to rise to her feet, but Darius was there.
