I forced her aside, away from Res. She struck again and again. I deflected her blade, retreating with every step. Res’s anxious energy flooded the cord, but I warned him back. Razel struck with reckless abandon, her normal grace gone in the face of her rage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ericen struggling to his feet.
I lashed out with the sharpened edge of my bow, slicing Razel across the arm. She hissed, thrusting her blade while my guard was open and catching me along the ribs. White-hot pain flared along my side, and I spun away to give myself space.
She advanced, but then Res was there, forcing her back with a flare of his metal-tipped wing, the most his faded magic could muster. My strength ebbed, and the world began to darken. Between fighting the Sella and my wounds, my body couldn’t take much more. Res fell back, ready to support me.
“I will tear you apart,” Razel snarled. “I will destroy what remains of your pathetic kingdom. And when this world is mine, then I will at last have peace.”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” I rasped, clutching my side. Blood seeped through my fingers. “No matter how many people you kill, they’re never coming back.”
Razel straightened sharply, her nostrils flaring. “You think I don’t know that? You think I care? Family is weakness. Love is weakness. Let me show you.”
For an instant, everything was still. Something like regret passed through Razel’s face before her expression hardened to steel.
She spun and drove her blade through Ericen’s stomach.
I screamed, and the sky screamed with me.
Power erupted down the cord as Res rose tall behind me. I could feel his magic feeding on me, feel my energy running down the bond the same way it had when I’d pulled it free of him in Caylus’s workshop. This was my strength, my magic—and Res was drawing on it.
Thunder boomed, shuddering through the sky in an earthquake of shattering sound. The wind howled, snapping my hair against my skin, but I didn’t feel the sting nor the tattoo of the pouring rain.
Razel withdrew the sword. Ericen gasped, blood spurting from his lips. As he slid to the ground, a crimson smear trailed along the castle wall in his wake.
I screamed again. The rain hardened into ice, falling like stones as Res’s magic erupted. At my back, Res let out a piercing call, snapping open his wings to protect me from the buffet of the wind and the bite of the hail.
Lightning struck a pace away from Razel. She stumbled to the side, fumbling to raise her sword in the heavy winds. I pushed harder on the link, willing my strength to Res.
The hail struck like arrows. Ribbons of red appeared on Razel’s face and neck, hands and arms. Like the countless lines she’d sliced into her own skin in sacrifice to her god, so the ice cut more and more. She raised her hands to protect her face, but it was no use. The ice grew larger, turning from pebbles to sharpened fragments of glass. They drove into her body like knives.
With a scream, she lifted her sword and lunged for me. Lightning struck the ground right before her, throwing her back. She hit the ground hard, her own blade cutting into her leg. Blood stained her golden uniform, her hair, and her body until her skin looked raw.
She struggled to her knees, shards of ice rising from her skin in spikes. Her chest heaved, and she coughed blood, her skin paler than snow.
Res cawed again, the sound melding with the thunder.
Then the queen of Illucia fell.
Thirty-Five
Blood puddled beneath Razel’s body, running in rivulets through the earth as the rain chased it away. For a moment, all I could do was watch the tiny rivers move, as if with each drop of life they carried away, they took a piece of me with them.
A piece of my anger, a piece of my fear. A piece of my pain, and a piece of my shame.
Then the ground grew too flooded to see them any longer, and Res released his hold on the storm.
The rain stopped, the wind quieting as the last peal of thunder boomed. The cloud cover thinned, and rays of moonlight reached low over the tops of the trees.
Across the castle grounds, the sounds of battle gasped and faded. The fires had been put out by the rain. The surviving Vykryn were outnumbered, the remains of the mausoleum surrounded.
I swayed, and then my fuzzy mind snapped back into place.
“Ericen,” I breathed, lurching forward. He clutched his stomach, his breath coming in ragged bursts. It took several blinks before my vision focused enough to see the wound. Then my stomach churned. I ripped off a piece of my shirt beneath my leathers. Gathering it up, I pressed it against his stomach.
He hissed and yet somehow still managed to smirk at me. “You almost look concerned,” he rasped, and I choked on my voice.
“I can fix this,” I said, the words half prayer. The ground felt far away beneath me, even as I knew I sat upon it. Blood soaked through the cloth quickly. Too quickly. I pushed harder.
Res gathered over us, cooing softly. The cord between us felt fragile and frayed, like a rope worn from rubbing against stone.
