“Artton!” I cried out as a massive wall of power came hurtling our way.
Chapter 57
Cornered
Faster than I could register, Artton turned away from me and spread his hands out, conjuring in a flash. His midnight-blue magic glittered in a way that reminded me of Endymion’s arcane magic as it bolted forward, reaching the High Lord’s assault just before Artton’s shield.
The power colliding was so loud that I had to pop my ears to try to dispel it as the ground shook with an aftershock.
Artton readied again, his hand shaking something fierce.
“Artton!” I hadn’t intended for his name to come out so fearful.
“I’m not at full strength,” he gritted out as a bead of sweat trickled down his brow. “I have one, maybe two of those left. Then they will hit my shield. With that kind of force, it will go down. I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but…” The words died on his tongue as he spared me a glance filled with a regret—a feeling I knew all too well. I went to pull for my powers again, but it was useless. I was as impotent now as the simple human girl who’d entered this realm a lifetime ago.
It went down exactly as he’d predicted—a testament to his skill and knowledge, even if it wasn’t enough tokeep us safe.
Conjure. Crack. Tremor.
Round one down
The part of me that wished more than anything that Endymion hadn’t arrived yet because he’d done the sensible thing and gone back to the Summer Court as I’d asked, now silently cried out for him to save Artton from the inevitable.
Conjure. Crack. Tremor.
Round two down.
Artton’s entire body now visibly shook as he tried to maintain the shield and pull for a third time. Problem was, Wymond and Thaddeus looked utterly unphased. They fucken knew—like we did—that it was only a matter of time before they got their grubby hands on me.
Glittering midnight blue poured from Artton’s hands in another wave of power, meeting the odd mixture of Wymond’s magic and Thaddeus’ spellcraft.
This time, there was no crack. No Tremor. This time, Artton’s magic began to buckle in the middle, bisected by the dual powers as they came toward us at an alarming rate.
One moment, Artton pressed forward with every ounce of magic he had left; the next, I watched in horror as it broke apart like a log being split by an axe. He spun, pulling me into his chest as he wrapped himself around me, shielding me with his body as his shield buckled with a thunderous crack.
I was ensconced in his protection so thoroughly that I couldn’t see a thing. A heartbeat later his back arched as pain wracked his body. He didn’t scream. Instead, his grip became punishing as he held on to me.
“Artton,” I breathed.
His breaths came in hard, and when I shifted my gaze up, his blue irises were filled with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Spark,” he panted.
Another blast hit him, and as pain consumed him, his brilliant blue eyes went glassy.
“Artton,” I cried, desperately trying to wiggle free from his death grip to help him, distantly aware of a putrid scent filling the air.
He held my gaze through unseeing eyes for a few heartbeats before they lulled into the back of his head, and his body went limp, falling atop me. I couldn’t breathe, but that had little to do with his crushing weight as he still held me tight.
The only solace was that he was still breathing.
Barely, but still.
Getting out from under him was futile, but I managed to free my hand enough to caress his face. “Artton?”
Nothing.
“Please, Artton. I need you.”
A fresh wave of tears stained my cheeks as I realized just how true those words were. I’d hated this fae with every fiber of my being. But now, clinging onto me as Father Death undoubtedly waited in the wings with his scythe, I’d give anything to hear him call me Spark.
