Twenty-Five
Theo raised a hand to shield his eyes from the flying dirt. He’d thought it was coming toward them in a wave, but he realized now that they were in the center of a whirlwind. He could feel Elowen warm at his back, huddling against him to protect her own face. He had no idea how he’d stayed at her side. He’d felt the gust force him backward away from her, and for a split second, he’d fully expected to be lifted from his feet and flung backward. But then he’d felt a sharp tug, and the next thing he knew, he was yanked back toward Elowen, able to pull her behind him and shield her.
It took all his willpower now not to turn and enfold her in his arms, to try to keep her safe from all sides. But his instinct told him it was more important to keep his body between her and the enemy.
Because Bertrand was inside the whirlwind as well.
“Princess!” Bertrand’s arms were over his face as he struggled through the plunging chaos. “Where are you? Come here, I won’t let Simeon hurt you!”
“No, Bertrand.” The other voice, strong and defiant, was Theo’s first clue that a fourth person was inside the dustmaelstrom. Simeon struggled forward, fighting to stay upright. “Not this time. I won’t let you hide your crimes behind me.”
Anger twisted Bertrand’s features. “Bad things happen when a servant forgets his place, Simeon.”
“I won’t let you hurt Sophia, either,” Simeon said fiercely. “I’m stronger than you, Bertrand, and I’m done being your puppet.”
“You’ve lost, Bertrand,” Theo shouted over the melee. “You didn’t manage to kill me, and you’ll never be able to win Elowen. Don’t make things worse for yourself by persisting. Every one of us knows this storm is your creation, not Simeon’s.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Bertrand gave a nasty laugh. “I have no skill in magic, as everyone knows. Simeon, on the other hand, is celebrated for his prowess.”
“I didn’t do this,” Simeon protested. “I don’t know how you did, either. There was no source of movement big enough to turn into this.” He gestured around him at the swirling tunnel of dust they were still trapped inside. In spite of his visible exhaustion, his expression was determined. “But now that the storm is providing so much movement…” He trailed off, a look of concentration then alarm crossing his face.
“What’s wrong?” Elowen cried.
“All the Dust is still locked into an active enchantment,” he shouted. “I can’t access it. I don’t know how that’s possible.”
Bertrand was so quick, none of them realized he was in motion until his fist came crashing down on the back of Simeon’s head. The servant, too focused on his magic to defend against such a physical attack, crumpled to the ground.
“Simeon!” Elowen screamed, leaping forward, but Theo stopped her with an arm around her middle.
“Stay back!”
Theo kept his eyes fixed on Bertrand, realizing that he was sliding some kind of metal object back into his pocket. He’d hit the servant with more than just his fist, it seemed.
“Keep away from us.” Elowen’s voice was fierce, and she’d positioned herself right against Theo’s side.
“I was protecting you,” Bertrand insisted. “He said it himself, he was trying to get the magic back from his wind to make another attack.”
“Who are you performing for?” Theo snarled. “We know what you are, Bertrand.”
A very ugly look settled onto the viscount’s face. “Then you know you’d be unwise to cross me.” His gaze fixed on Elowen. “Come, Elowen. I’ve had enough of your games.”
“You’re the only one playing a game, Bertrand,” Elowen told him. “And you’ve lost even that. I never belonged to you, and I never will.” She turned her eyes up to Theo’s. “I belong to you.”
“Elowen.” He hardly knew how to put words to the tangle of emotions rising in him as he drank in her upturned face. His thumb brushed gently along her chin. “You don’tbelongto anyone.”
“I know,” she assured him, her voice soft and something in her eyes that made his heart beat at double speed. “I was just speaking in language Bertrand understands. I’m trusting you to know me better, to understand what I’m really saying.”
“Enough of this.” Bertrand’s voice was no longer as raised, and Theo realized the wind was slowly losing force. Whatever enchantment Bertrand had managed, it wasn’t limitless. “We could have made Torrens the strongest it’s ever been, but I should have known you were too childish and misty-eyed to play any useful part.” He loomed out of the swirling dust. “I was never going to allow the alliance to go ahead, and if I have to eliminate both of you to ensure it, instead of just your prince, so be it. I’ll see you dead before I see you a Siqualian’s wife.” Hismouth curled in a sneer. “You’re not indispensable to Torrens, and you’re certainly not necessary to me. I’ll replace you in a heartbeat with someone more malleable.”
Anger bubbled within Theo, but Elowen just gave a disbelieving laugh. “Is that supposed to distress me? I pity any girl who catches your eye, Bertrand. You’re mad to make these threats so openly. You can’t think you’ll get away with violence against us.”
Bertrand’s answering laugh made the hair on the back of Theo’s neck prickle. “Of course I will. When the Dust dissipates, and it’s clear you were all felled by magic, do you think I’ll have any trouble convincing them Simeon did it, and his own enchantment ricocheted on him, too?” He pulled the metal object from his pocket again. “Tragically, I’ll be the only survivor.”
His movement was so quick, Theo barely had time to throw Elowen behind him again. His arm was raised in front of him, and he let out a grunt as something invisible slashed across it. Blood dripped down from the wound as his mind tried to catch up with what it was seeing.
“Theo!” Elowen cried.
“I’m all right,” he said quickly.
