One of the fallen nians scraped at the wall with his razor-sharp claws. Huge chunks of ice crashed to the ground.
Nothing was working.
I glanced around, desperate for a way to save our lives. Snow. Ice. The nians’ pale scales blended with the winter landscape. They were built for this environment, thrived in it. But fire … fire melted ice.
Theanswer was fire. It had to be. I set the nian that was chipping at the wall aflame. It burned, collapsing onto the ground, rolling in the snow, and screaming its pain to the dull gray skies. Finally, after seconds that lasted an eternity, it fell silent.
Bile scalded my throat, and tears filled my eyes. I’d tortured a creature until it was nothing but a blackened husk.
I couldn’t afford empathy or guilt or hesitation. Them or us. That was the choice.
Gathering my resolve and more of Flynn’s power, I let loose. I felt the flames as they claimed each monster. The nians burned, and their pained cries echoed through the forest.
Inside our walls, a beast roared in fury.
With my heart lodged in my throat, I turned.
Zane and Remy fought in tandem. Sweat dotted their brows, and a wound on Remy’s left arm bled freely.
Three nians lay dead at their feet.
Three.
There were at least twenty dead nians outside the wall.
I directed the fire at the monsters still standing.
They burned.
The smell was appalling. Death, and gore, and roasting meat. I couldn’t help myself; I leaned over Buttercup’s side and vomited. When my stomach was empty, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat straight in the saddle.
Remy appeared beside Buttercup with a waterskin. “Rinse your mouth,” he said gruffly.
Zane smirked at Remy. “I told you so.”
Words no one ever liked to hear.
Remy scowled at Zane before directing his glare my way. “How did you do this?” A wave of his hand indicated the host of dead nians.
“Magic.”
His hands fisted. “You used four elements.” An accusation.
Earth. Water. Fire. Air. I shrugged, and his expression darkened.
“How?” he demanded.
Another man who thought I owed him an explanation. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!”
“I saved your life.”
“Listen to me, you—” Remy started, then stopped abruptly when he noticed me swaying in the saddle. Without a word, he moved closer, close enough to catch me if I fell.
Zane rolled his eyes. “What Remy means to say is ‘thank you.’”
That was not what Remy had meant to say. Not even close. He was just another man who wanted my secrets by any means necessary.
