I summoned my power and sent it at the Corrupter again. My men grunted as the magic poured through them at my command, coming to me, giving me their strength. They bent over double, panting.
The Corrupter fell to his knees under my attack, lights sparkling along his knife-edge cheekbones and glinting in his icy eyes. His irises gathered the magic there, and it went dim. Swallowed. He got to his feet. My men struggled to stand upright.
I let go of my connection to them.
“Ember,” Rath gasped.
“I'll be fine.” I focused on the Corrupter.
Another blast left me, this time powered by Death Magic. I was so confident. I saw Aranren's death force and knew I could tip the balance. I sent the magic right at it.
And he laughed.
A shiver ran down my spine as weakness ran up it. That one blast had drained me. What the fuck? This had never happened before. But then, I had never targeted a Death user before.
The Corrupter drew closer. His thin lips moved. His hair rose on currents of Death Magic. He lifted a hand.
With a roar, someone came from behind me. I gaped as Taroc barreled into the Corrupter, taking him down.
“Taroc?” I whispered and staggered forward.
He must have been at my back the entire time. So close that he was enclosed in the ward with us. Holy fuck.
Taroc stabbed the Corrupter over and over. In. The. Throat.
The Corrupter's eyes went wide. Unable to murmur his spells, he had to rely solely on basic Death Magic. But even with blood gushing from several neck wounds, he managed to send Taroc flying. Taroc hit the ward and hung in midair. Pinned. Struggling against an unseen force. He couldn't even shift; there wasn't enough room in the ward.
The Corrupter got to his feet, waving at his throat. The wounds started to heal. Before they could fully close, I took inspiration from Taroc, pulled my sword, and rushed the Corrupter with the last of my energy. This is what my men had been training me for—a moment when magic failed. And they ran alongside me, each with a weapon unsheathed. Destiny was calling, and I would answer.
I'd never been so grateful for Rath's insistence on training every day. All those mornings he pushed me out of the dining hall and steered me toward the training yard. All the groans he had to endure from me. The whining. His strength had forced memory into my muscles. I lifted my sword by instinct alone. I brought it down in a perfect arch. As I did, three other swords fell.
The Corrupter bared his teeth and magic blasted from him again. But this time, it wasn't aimed solely at us. His slashed throat had healed enough for him to whisper a spell, and that spell pierced my ward. A shivering ran through me, announcing the fall of my magic. With narrowing eyes, I followed through on my swing, couldn't have stopped if I wanted to.
Four blade tips hit the ground where the Corrupter had been standing.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“No!” I roared, my sword falling from my hands as I flung my head back.
My lovers and Taroc made frustrated sounds as well, but nothing compared to mine. I shrieked wordlessly, then collapsed to my knees and wept. So close. He'd been right there. Seconds had made the difference.
“Ember.” Rath crouched beside me and put an arm around my shoulders. “We'll get him. We'll try again. It will be all right.”
“This was supposed to be the end. He told me we could end it. I wouldn't have to do this anymore.” I lifted my head to meet his stare. “It was supposed to be over, and then it would just be us.”
A pair of boots beside me shifted, then turned and walked away.
I looked over to see Taroc leaving, his shoulders hunched.
“Taroc!” I called after him.
He didn't stop.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “Aw, fuck.”
“Come on,” Xae said and helped Rath get me to my feet. “He'll get over it. Everyone knows this is hard on you.”
“The Emperor?” I looked around and found him standing on the stage.
