“Why are you talking like that?” I whispered, my hand reflexively tightening around the phantom hilt of my sword.
“Just in case you never want to see me again after this,” he said, stepping forward.
“What is your purpose here?” Blake called, his voice low and snarling.
One of the cloaked figures in the mist stepped forward.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Rykiren Drake Ryth’enir, Lord of the Falls, Heir to the God of Fire,” called a deep voice.
He bowed deeply before rising.
“Please come with us,” he said.
“Why would I do that?” Blake asked, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.
“Your presence has been requested,” he said.
“Fine, but she stays with me,” Blake said, nodding at me.
“Only your presence was requested,” said the cloaked man in a calm, smooth voice.
I sensed the others closing in around us. The ice was cold on my bare feet and Blake held me tightly against him. There was no way we had a chance against this many, especially when I didn’t have a weapon. Blake’s everi was raging, his body rigid.
“She stays with me,” he said, his voice low and definitive.
Everything was still for a moment, then they all moved at once.
A terrible sound filled the air as warm liquid sprayed my face. I blinked, feeling it in my eyelashes. I wiped my hand across my face, but it just smeared like warm syrup. I squinted, trying to see what was going on, and stared at the body of one of the cloaked mages before me. I could see his eyes, wide open and still—they were bright red.
Blood mages.
I shuddered, fear gripping me as I saw the horrible rips in his clothing where his raw and bloodied flesh was revealed.
What was this? What happened to him? The raw wounds of utterly destroyed flesh were all over his body. There were more, all with the same marks, and blood spattered across the ice like a morbid modern art scene.
Tremors ran through every muscle in my body. I slowly turned, looking over my shoulder at Blake.
He was breathing heavily, mist forming from his breath.
Before him were several more bodies, as well as the ones around me.
Blake was covered in blood.
“It’s alright, Anna,” he said. “It was me.”
I couldn’t speak or move but my everi was flowing rampantly as I tried to process what he was saying. Had he done this? Had he torn these blood mages apart all at once?
“Impressive,” called the only blood mage that still stood—the one who’d spoken to Blake before. “But you can’t sustain that kind of power for long and we outnumber you by far.”
More cloaked blood mages emerged through the mist.
Panic wracked my body as I called to one of the swords that lay abandoned on the ice. It shot through the air and into my grip as they descended upon me.
Whatever terrifying curse Blake had used seemed to be a one-time thing. As the first blood mage neared me, Blake’s everi wrap around me tightly again. My blood was flowing erratically as I braced myself for the coming blow.
“They’re powerful,” Blake muttered to me, “but they are not skilled. They are new and poorly trained blood mages. Disarm them and strike to eliminate.”
My eyes narrowed as I realized this was real. This was no sparring match. I had to commit with each attack—if I didn’t the cost would be death.
