The cut was shallow, a fact that seemed to frustrate Bertrand. He raised the object again, his eyes full of malice.
“I don’t know how you got inside the storm,” Bertrand growled. “But don’t get in my way. I’m doing her first on purpose, because I want you to see what happens when you try to take from me something that’s mine.”
Something fierce and determined flamed to life within Theo. It went beyond anger, beyond even fear. It was a bone-deep certainty that he would do anything to protect Elowen, because he loved her. He wanted her to be safe, to be his, to be by his side forever. He wanted it with his whole being, and that desirewasn’t something to fear or deny. It was something to treasure. And it was his fuel as he threw himself toward Bertrand.
“Theo!”
The name turned to a scream on Elowen’s lips as Bertrand again brought his strange weapon slashing through thin air, and another slice appeared on Theo’s other arm. Pain lanced through him, but he pushed it aside. He’d been asleep since the evening before, moving through the world in a haze. Everything was sharp now, and clearer than it had ever been. He wasn’t about to hesitate.
He collided with Bertrand, but the force of his impact didn’t dislodge the weapon from Bertrand’s hand as he’d hoped.
“Elowen!” Theo shouted, as he wrestled with the viscount in an attempt to stop him wielding it again. “It’s a magic weapon. Use magic to defend yourself!”
“If Simeon couldn’t harness this wind, there’s no way I can,” Elowen cried.
“Bertrand doesn’t control everything,” Theo reminded her. “Just the small patch he wants you to see. Reach beyond the storm for movement!”
Bertrand landed a punch in Theo’s distraction, and he barely got his lacerated arms back up in time to stop the other man from breaking free. The viscount’s sneering laugh reached his ears.
“She won’t be able to reach past the storm. We’re sealed in.”
Movement drew Theo’s eye, and he risked a glance at Elowen. She’d dived for Simeon’s prostrate form, and seemed to be tugging at the other man’s pocket. Theo couldn’t afford to keep watching. His mind was sharp, but his body was still affected both by his recent illness and his injuries. Bertrand managed to wrench an arm free, slashing the weapon through the air with his eyes on Elowen.
Theo shouted in rage, but no cry of pain came from the princess. He twisted frantically around to see her still standing, her expression determined as she wielded a large, fanlike object. She was swirling it in a figure eight pattern through the air, stirring up a steady trickle of Dust which she had obviously used to good effect.
Bertrand’s incredulous growl brought a grim smile to Elowen’s lips.
“You forgot one other thing you don’t control, Bertrand,” the princess said. “Me.”
Taking his opening, Theo shifted his grip to Bertrand’s wrist, bringing his hand down with all his force against his own leg. The strange object at last clattered to the ground, and Theo kicked it away. Bertrand lunged after it with an angry shout, exposing his back. Theo tackled him, pinning him to the ground just as the swirling wall of gravel and dust finally faltered, then, with unnatural abruptness, dropped away.
Instantly a cacophony of shouts and screams reached their ears, and their small space was flooded with people.
“What’s going on?” Prince Patrick demanded. “What was that? We couldn’t see or hear anyth—” His eyes widened as they found Bertrand, still being crushed under Theo’s weight.
“Paulson,” Theo said, ignoring the Torrenese prince. “This man just tried to kill both me and the princess. He needs to be securely detained.”
“And searched for any more strange objects,” Elowen interjected, as the Siqualian guards all hastened to obey their prince.
Theo gave a quick nod of agreement, relinquishing a sputtering Bertrand to the guards. He saw that Lady Sophia had run straight to Simeon’s prone form, lifting his head gingerly onto her lap. Meanwhile Xavier materialized at Theo’s side, his eyes quickly finding the injuries to his brother’s arms.
“These wounds need binding,” he rapped out, causing another flurry of activity from the Siqualian guards.
“Prince Theodore.” Prince Patrick’s voice was deep and strained. “I don’t understand what’s happened here, but I would caution you to get all the information before placing too much weight on my sister’s theories regarding Lord Bertrand.”
“I’m not interested in your caution,” Theo said brutally. “And it’s not caution, it’s blindness. If you had more sense, you would have been genuinely cautious by properly investigating your sister’s suspicions before the viscount had the chance to cover his tracks. There’s nothing whatsoever wrong with her judgment. If you don’t believe her, then believe the testimony of my own eyes and ears.” He glanced at Bertrand, who was protesting in outrage as two armed guards hauled him to his feet and a third searched him thoroughly. “The son of your most influential duke just told us to our faces he was going to kill us both and make it look like his servant Simeon was behind it.”
Prince Patrick’s face was ashen by the end of this speech, and Lady Sophia let out a squeak of distress. Theo looked toward her to see Simeon stirring at last, a soft groan escaping him. He blinked several times, then his features relaxed at the face he saw hovering above him.
“Sophy?”
Theo saw Prince Patrick’s eyebrow go up at the soft greeting, and Elowen apparently did too. She jumped in quickly, distracting her brother.
“Everything he said about Bertrand is true, Patrick. He tried to convince us the storm came from Simeon, and when we wouldn’t believe him, he knocked Simeon out and turned on us. He said he was never going to let the alliance proceed.”
Theo shook off the guard currently trying to bandage his arm, moving quickly to Elowen’s side.
“You were amazing at the end there,” he said.
