As my limbs went sluggish, my shadows slipped away, slinking back to where I’d stolen them. The magical binding weighed down my will like soggy fabric draping across my body. I staggered, disoriented, before Lore’s steady hand shot out to hold me upright.
We put our backs to each other and held our daggers tight in our grips.
“If we go down, it’s together,” he growled over his shoulder. “Our magic may be gone, but we have this.”
“Together.” My eyes stung as I was dragged back to that cave, that raid where Kinart died in my arms.
Not again. Notthistime. I would not allow it to happen.
The guards moved in fast, surrounding us, their weapons buzzing like whips about to strike.
“Surrender,” one barked.
“Never,” Lore growled.
I tightened my spine, the dagger in my hand humming its own lethal song. Lore’s heat radiated against my back. A flicker of his shadow lunged across the grass, revealing his first move. He struck with such speed and force it split the air, a dark streak cutting through the closest guard.
The faceless visor cracked, magic spilling out as if the armor bled. The guard collapsed, but another took its place before the body could hit the ground.
I spun away, twisting on instinct, and drove my dagger up into the throat of a charging foe. My blade met little resistance, sliding through the armor like hot horig. A faint hiss escaped the guard as they crumpled, their weapon clattering against the ground. For each one who fell, another three took their place.
“Reyla, left.” Lore’s voice barked from behind me.
I ducked, narrowly avoiding a swing that would’ve severed my head from my shoulders. The buzzing, crackling staff missed, and I retaliated with a vicious slash. My blade found favor on the guard’s knee, and they toppled, collapsing in a heap. Without missing a breath, I pivoted, snapping a boot into a chest with a sickening crunch.
It was a relentless press, a tide of faceless bodies forcing us to move faster, strike harder. Each swing of my blade seemed to take more effort, more focus, my movements sluggish under the weight of the binding magic thrumming through the air.
My legs felt like I was wading through sand, my magic swarming uselessly under the surface, bound and gagged and as unobtainable as a cup of water with a sieve in the sea.
Surges of guards crashed into us in black waves, their weapons flaring as they clashed against our blades. For a heartbeat, Lore's face turned toward me, and I caught a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes. We wouldn't give up, but he must fear this was it. He wouldn't even make it to his thirtieth birthday. He wouldn't get to hold me, love me again.
“I love you,” he cried out, slashing with renewed vigor.
We couldn't break through. Soon, we were surrounded with their weapons pointed our way.
“Surrender,” one snarled.
“Let her go,” Lore said. “I'll come with you peacefully.”
“Bring both of them,” someone said in a haughty voice from a short distance away.
Before we could blink, guards bound us with magical ties and turned us to facehim.
An older fae man stood in the front of a big open courtyard ahead of us, slowly clapping, the cracks piercing my ears. He stood tall, his frame both powerful and elegant, like a sculpture that had been forged in fire and cruelty. His silver hair, as sleek andgleaming as moonlight, gave way to sharp, lightly lined features that were too exquisite to belong to anything mortal. His unnervingly golden eyes remained locked on us. Unflinching. Penetrating. As though he could peel back our skin and examine our souls in their rawest form.
“King Tallin of Halendor,” Lore hissed. “My father’s rival.”
I was sure he only made the introduction for my benefit.
The king wore a coat of deep red, not the shade of flowers but of fresh-spilled blood, with black threading curling through the fabric in shapes that shifted. Each detail about him screamed dominance, control, and power.
Tallin didn’t just own the space he stood in; he devoured it.
“Welcome to Halendor Court,” he said in a cool, deep voice laced with a venomous charm. “So nice of you to join the party.”
Lore’s growl rumbled in his chest as he strained against the magical bonds.
The king smirked, his lips curling sharper than the blade of a dagger. “Ah, such fire. I do enjoy guests with spirit. Makes my day far less dull.” He flicked his hand up in the air.
