“Sauriel, my brother.”
Adriel’s voice fades away, and I make the connection that Siah is so desperate for me to make.
Fuck.
I stare up into Siah’s light blue eyes and shake my head, instantly pissed off at myself. I fucked up.
“How bad is it?” I ask, knowing shit is hitting the fan all around us based off the noise I hear going on. I can’t bring myself to look yet. I need another minute to let the truth soak in. Adriel is dead. I killed him.
“Eh,” Siah states casually, punctuating it with a shrug. “Pretty sure Adriel’s brother just shit his pants. All of your mates are guarding you and your Shields. Your Shields are trying to get Becket to see what you now see. It’s a battle, but I think we can take ’em.” Siah gives me a playful wink, and I can’t help the tired chuckle it evokes in me. “You good, mate?” he asks sweetly. “Sorry about the biting.”
“No, it was good thinking,” I tell him as I push up. He rocks back onto his feet and offers me a hand to help me up.
Sure enough, Enoch, Kallan, and Nash are furiously arguing with Becket. My Chosen surround us, each of them engaged in a fight. We’re surrounded by armed and angry Sentinels. The Quorum—which apparently includes Adriel’s brother Sauriel—are all standing in front of their thrones, exuding outrage over what just happened.
Shit, shit, shit.
Wasn’t I just fucking vowing to keep everyone safe? But I go and lose my shit, pretty much guaranteeing that no one is safe now. I try to think through what I can do to stop all of this. I’m pretty sure me raising my hand and announcingmy badisn’t going to cut it. Where’s a damn white flag when you need one?
Someone hurls magic at Ryker, but his shield flares up to protect him. Another orb is lobbed our way, but I’m distracted by the Sovereign as she sits in her throne, an annoyed look on her face. “I want them cut to pieces!” she declares with a bored tone, like it’s already a foregone conclusion for her.
The guards press in against us, and we all respond. I get kicked in the gut and shoved back inside the circle that my Chosen and Shields have inadvertently created while they defend against the attacking Sentinels. Instead of immediately rushing back in, swords up, I call on my Offensive magic and start hurling orbs filled with a whole lot offuck offat the guards.
I’m surprised, even though I really shouldn’t be, when some of them have shields that pop up and protect them just like I do. My orbs still knock them over like bowling pins but don’t do more than that. I keep at mybowling for Sentinelsplan, throwing barriers around the ones I knock down so they can’t get up.
I fling another barrier out, and then my heart stops when a pain filled cry reaches out and grips my soul in a stranglehold. Terror seizes me as I turn to see a raised sword arcing down toward Sabin. He’s fighting another guard, and there’s no way he can stop the other sword’s progression. Moments with Sabin flash in my mind. His smile. The wrinkle he gets between his eyebrows when he’s concerned or perplexed. His lips against mine, and the way it feels to be loved by him, treasured by him.
“I am the wrong bitch!” I bellow as I flare purple.
I open the source of my magic completely and demand everything it’s got. The pressure builds inside of me in a flash, and I grit my teeth against the pain as I watch the blade inch closer to Sabin like it’s in slow motion. I wait until my magic intensifies to anI can’t take thislevel, and then I shove it out of me. The pulse passes through my guys and doesn’t even make them sway—which is exactly what I wanted—but as soon as it slams into the other Sentinels, it flattens them. They slam to the ground with such force that the sound reverberates around the room.
My purple magic rages like a tsunami toward the Sovereign. It smashes against a barrier and shatters it like glass. My magic slams into the leaders of this city. It blows the royals back into their thrones and then flips those thrones on their backs. I’m pretty sure my magic just made it clear what it thinks of their monarchy.
I stand there, a little shocked by what I just did. I’ve used this ability before, both on purpose and on accident, but never on this level. The room goes from a battlefield to eerily quiet. We stand there, trying to take in what just happened and catch our breath. I run my gaze over all of them but don’t see anything I should be concerned about.
“Should we run?” Bastien asks after a minute as his eyes skate over all the people on the ground in the room.
“I don’t even know if we can,” I admit. “Will we make it out of the city?”
“You’d have to leave us behind. They might be able to track us through that chick’s Chosen marks,” Kallan announces, and once again I have no clue if they can, or even would, come after us. I know I can alert my Chosen as to where I am and that I need them; can it work the other way around?
“Fuck,” I shout out and run my fingers through my matted and tangled hair. “I’ve fucked this all up.”
“No,theyfucked this all up when they attacked us in the forest,” Valen states calmly.
“Definitely not the most welcoming lot,” Sorik agrees.
I look around the room at the unmoving figures. I can still see that the guards are breathing, so they’re not dead, but at this point, I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I trace a path toward the thrones and move off in that direction.
“What’re you up to, Killer?”
“I’m going to fix the thrones and put the royal assholes back in them. Maybe if they come to upright instead of ass-up, they’ll be more understanding.”
“Oh...oh...better idea,” Knox announces, raising his hand like an eager student. “What if they wake up and find us sitting on their thrones? You know, let ’em know they fucked with the wrong coven from the get go.”
I chuckle and then start fixing chairs like I’m cleaning up from an epic party.
“You good, Becket?” I ask as he eyes Sauriel warily.
