GUINEVERE
There were just too many of them. The Aquarians and elementals formed a bastion at the center of the army, ramming their way into the succubus horde. Someone had told Gwen that these ones were easier to kill, because they’d taken over human bodies rather than fae. But she noticed no difference. They killed more effectively than any enemy she’d faced as a lieutenant in the terrestrial army, serving under Arran.
They killed the human female named Tally who Elora had grown so fond of during their short alliance.
They killed the ice-wielding female who’d wanted to punish Gwen for slaughtering her brother.
They killed and killed and killed.
At least Sylva was not on this battlefield. The human woman waited in the village to receive wounded soldiers.
Maybe she would die there.
Gwen certainly would.
She shifted from her dark lioness back into her fae from, using the power of her powerful hind legs to leap, transforming in the air and landing with such force that her sword cleaved the succubus beneath her in half.
Her sword was free by the time her knees pushed back up to stand. Three succubus surged for her, she took them all, leaving the male nearest her free to turn and engage in the other direction.
She vaguely recognized the male. She’d been introduced to him once, but he was one human who hadn’t seemed important. His place was with Veyka and Arran, with the terrestrials, with their quests. But there he was, fighting alongside the humans.
He was half-witch, she recalled.
But he fought for the humans.
He had a sister. She recalled that as well.
Perhaps it was for her that he fought.
Perhaps it was for her that he died.
A succubus careened into him, thrown off by another human fighting a few feet away. It knocked the man down, falling with him. Gwen would have rolled and come out on top. Slammed her amorite-swirled blade into the creature’s chest. But the human was not a warrior. He landed beneath the succubus. The succubus ripped out his throat, then it dug its sharpened bony fingertips into his chest, searching for his soul. Half-witch or not, the man would not heal.
Gwen watched the life leave his eyes.
She felt nothing.
Not even the blade that pierced her leather, nor the sharp pain of her organs being split in two.
She felt nothing as her knees hit the ground. Then her face, straight down into the mud.
She felt nothing.
Then she saw nothing either.
84
ARRAN
The perfectly blue sky overhead. The jagged orange peaks. The waves of black that rolled against the terrestrial army, again and again, each time pushing in farther. Closer to the base of the mountains. Gwen had warned—if the succubus pushed us back to the foot of the mountains, there would be no escape. We’d be cornered and crushed. I knew—if it came to that, we’d already lost.
A wall of fire appeared in the distance, burning bright against the black horde. Lyrena. It must be. The flames cut through the succubus, right to the foot of the Tower of Myda. Veyka was still alive. Still fighting. The bond inside of me remained intact, but seeing that proof on the battlefield was more than a comfort. It gave me the strength for the next surge.
I had not asked Isolde to reexamine my magic. What change could a few days bring, after I’d had months to heal? Gaps in my power or not, I had to fight. I reached for his axe, shifting as I ran. The wolf gave way to the male. That power had not deserted me yet. Maybe the next time I tried to shift, it would. But next time was by no means a certainty.
My father’s northerners fought at the center, fierce with their assortment of deadly weapons honed against the brutality of the Spine. They remained fighting, their ranks still strong. Mordred was safe among them. I’d lied to myself when I said that I could not care for him. I could not stop myself from caring.
Veyka had done that to me. She’d opened my heart to love. Not just hers, but those around me. I’d never mourned the losses on a battlefield. It was part of what made me such a brutally efficient commander. But I would not have changed it. Not a single thing she’d given me.
