I reached behind me for Khouri’s fingers, clasping them tightly. “No.”
Power erupted from his hands, and the garish lights tumbled over one another in their rush to reach me.
I braced myself. What if this time my magic failed? It hadn’t happened yet, but there was a first time for everything.
Smit held so much power. Everyone said so. But the stream of magic flowing from his hands felt lighter than a feather as it brushed against mine. If not for the extra spark of light as his magic collided with my shield, I wouldn’t have known it reachedme.
Khouri whimpered, but thanks to my touch, she remained protected. Thanks to my shielding power, her father’s magic was unable to harm us. Rather than bringing me to my knees, Smit’s magic slid off my shield, dissipating as if it had never existed.
Fury played across his florid face, and he redoubled his efforts, turning the very air crimson, plum, and ebony in his struggle to destroy me.
More confident now, I allowed myself a small, triumphant smirk. We could go on like this forever, or until his power was spent.
“Bitch.”
If he thought calling me names might hurt me when his magic had failed, he was delusional. “You’re despicable. She’s your daughter. You’re supposed to love and protect her. Instead, you abused her.”
He roared. “She. Is. Mine. To do with as I please.”
To beat. To rape. To torture. To murder.
He let loose another burst of magic.
Enough. I’d had enough of men molesting girls. I’d dried rivers of tears, clutched countless hands, spent more nights than I could count holding girls haunted by nightmares. I’d ached enough, suffered enough, hated enough. Something deep within me cracked, and a tiny taste of my rage danced across my skin. My anger was as bitter as wormwood and stronger than the liquor our neighbor made in his makeshift still.
The ugly lights from Smit’s magic seemed to slow as they hit my shield, swirling around its edges instead of dissipating. For a heartbeat, the lights pulsed even brighter, as if they were transferring energy. My shield shimmered, no longer invisible but burning with cold bluefire.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn’t how my magic worked. What was happening?
My shield dispelled others’ magic. At least, that was what it usually did. Was it about to fail? I pushed Khouri further behind me and held my breath.
Except Smit’s ugly red and purple and black lights were now racing toward him.
The colored lights slammed into his body, wrapping around his neck like a noose. Shock and pain registered on his repulsive features, and his hands clawed at his throat.
This couldn’t be real. My thoughts spiraled with disbelief and confusion, and any plausible explanation eluded me.
Smit’s furious face went slack, and he crashed to the floor. The lights surrounding him flickered and disappeared.
Long seconds passed, and he didn’t move. He was a horrible man. Truly terrible. But I didn’t want him dead. I didn’t want to have killed him. I didn’t want to feel as if I could do it again.
My feet refused to move. They were frozen to the floor. Perhaps permanently. My mouth gaped open. Collapsing seemed like a viable next step.
A low moan claimed my attention.
Khouri.
“Stay here.” Somehow, I forced my leaden feet forward, shuffling toward Smit as horror stole the air from my lungs. I bent. I pressed my fingers to his neck and swallowed a moan. No pulse. The man had no pulse. I’d definitely killed him.
I nearly buckled beneath the weight of my actions. My hands shook, and my breathing grew shallow. This was bad. No, not bad. This was terrible. I’d killed a man. And not just any man—an important one. Not on purpose, but the guard wouldn’t care that it had been accidental. Smit’s death wouldn’t go unpunished.
I forced myself to think past the horror. There would be time to fall apart later.
“What did you do?” Khouri’s voice was small, diminished.
I’d blocked her view of her father’s attack. Did she know he’d hit me with death magic? Did she know his magic had bounced back onto him? “You’re safe,” I told her. She’d never been less safe. I’d implicated her in her father’s murder. “Has your father been having any trouble with his magic?”
“No. Why?”
