Ilara’s screech cut through the commotion.
“Mizikiel is coming!” Chandra said. “Are you ready, C’ael?”
I looked between them. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll transport Mizikiel to the deck, and C’ael will transfer the flame.” He gripped my shoulders. “Do you have the blade?”
“What? Yes. But why?”
“Just a precaution, Leela. Only a precaution.”
My stomach twisted, but I nodded.
He pulled me close and kissed my temple. “I love you, Leela.” He was gone before I could respond.
C’ael grabbed my hand. “We can do this. Come on! We must get to the bow.”
They’d planned this. Together.
Wings of foreboding fluttered in my belly, but there was no time to examine the feeling. I ran with my hand in C’ael’sthrough the zing and clash of blades and the spray and bite of icy water as the Asura and djinn fought. None turned to attack us, the crimson-eyed Asuras’ focus remaining on the djinn.
The primordial evil was saving me for himself. My death at his hands. Why? I wasn’t sure. And then it hit me.
I was a tether.
Araz’s tether.
His reason for fighting.
But if I was gone…
We came to a halt just as Ilara swooped toward us, the bastard on her back. A second figure appeared behind him.
It was Chandra, his dark hair whipping in the breeze. I caught the moment of shock on the primordial evil’s face as Chandra wrapped his arms around him. They vanished, materializing a few meters from us a moment later.
The primordial evil let out a roar, and Chandra went flying across the deck.
His topaz eyes locked on me, a terrifying snarl pulling back his lips.
“Now!” Chandra yelled.
C’ael appeared behind the primordial evil and wrapped his arms around him.
The primordial evil froze, his eyes flying wide, his mouth dropping open. Then his back arched.
A glow bloomed across his chest, golden and bright.
The flame.
C’ael was putting the flame inside him.
“Argh!” the primordial evil roared, the sound one of agony.
His head fell forward, and his gaze zeroed onto me, soft and filled with yearning. Love and…sorrow?
No.
“Not. Enough. Leela…run…” His head whipped back, a triumphant bellow tearing from his throat.
