What in the four hells was going on?
“Love, a little less flirting and a little more escaping, please,” Farrah groaned, waving her dagger in the air. “Any day now.”
Brela smiled and lifted the dart to her lips, firing the finola toward the prince.
And he sliced it out of the air.
“Four hells,” Farrah blurted unintentionally.
The sword in his hand was a blur, and he sliced the dartout of the gods-damned air.
Serill grinned at their gaping mouths. “Not just a pretty face. Turns out training with Valkip pays off.”
“You continue to surprise me, Serill,” Brela said, lifting her dagger as she stepped forward, the silent hand signal behind her back instructing Farrah to her next move. “I’d really rather not hurt you.”
“I believe you,” he replied, circling. “We aren’t enemies, Brela.”
“The chains and kidnapping would say otherwise,” Brela growled back, stepping carefully to not reveal how badly she was weakened.
The prince shifted his feet, completely composed. Farrah had to admit that the man knew how to act like the helpless prince until it was necessary to protect himself. No wonder Valkip had been comfortable leaving him behind. Still, he was making a terrible mistake thinking that Brela was the only one of them to worry about.
Brela feinted left. Farrah attacked right.
Farrah threw her hand out, ice cracking along her fingers as she pushed the rope toward the prince. But that gods-damned blade once again became a blur, sweeping down and shattering her magic. The crystals sprayed toward Brela, forcing her to duck away from the shards.
Farrah was already moving, twisting around the prince’s sword and striking for his forearm. He shifted quickly, meeting her blade as the shock ran through her arms.
His blade was quick, and a swift slide of his legs had him separated and swinging for her exposed side. A dagger of ice grew from her fist, jamming back as she shoved the blade away from her.
Brela was back in motion, occupying the prince—not with the dagger, but with her fist. His thigh rippled with the impact of her punch, flat side of his sword swinging for her. Brela used the dagger only to deflect, her fist finding his ribs before Farrah had even recovered from her attack.
Farrah found her own opening as the prince recoiled from Brela’s next punch to his shoulder. Serill’s arm extended, and Farrah’s dagger was prepared to slice through his wrist.
Lightning slammed into the ground in a blinding light as Farrah lifted off the ground from the shock. Her muscles convulsed, pain screaming through her bones as she crashed to the ground and rolled. Healing magic coursed through her the moment her mind cleared enough to focus, her vision snapping from white light to clarity.
Farrah struggled to grip the dagger in her hand. Brela was still shaking only a few paces to her left, unable to find the weapon she had been holding, but she stopped looking the minute she saw the prince shift closer to the two figures that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Valkip stood tall, gripping the Veil Scholar’s dagger in his right hand.
In his left, lightning crackled along the sword that he held over Elias’s throat.
* * *
It feltlike the air had been ripped from her lungs, and the shadow magic still wouldn’t respond. At least she hadn’t screamed.
Brela glared at Valkip and the sword dancing with the remnants of the lightning he had just called against her and Farrah. Elias’s face was calm, like always, but even with blurred vision, she could see the shift behind her friend’s gaze; his words without speaking.
I’m sorry.
Her muscles hummed and twitched, fighting against her attempts to stand, but there was one thing she could still do. She didn’t care about Valkip holding Night Carver. She’d get the dagger back. Right now, she had a promise to uphold.
The laugh was deep and cruel, clawed from the depths of the fortress that shook with lightning and power. It only fueled her anger as her fist tightened. Despite her legs shaking underneath her, she bared her teeth at the fire-wielder.
“You’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life, Valkip.”
His nostrils flared. “I told you what would happen if they tried to rescue you.”
“And I told you what would happen if you hurt them,” she hissed, her hand twitching at her side. To Valkip and the prince, it was nonsense from someone still shaking from Valkip’s storm magic. To Farrah and Elias, it was a plan. “I can’t wait to shred your skin apart with my bare hands.”
