Icannot.
Without restraint, my power explodes outward, a blast that washes across the clearing, spearing to either side of her while my fingers wrap around her arm, and I finally make contact.
Finally, her body is within my grasp—a heady, breathtaking connection.
But she screams, a cry that speaks of pain even though I’m gripping her only lightly.
Her scream rises above the explosion of my power, a second before scorching flames billow toward me, and an iron dagger cleaves the air, striking at my neck.
Chapter Eight
Thyra
My mind fractures.
The Dragonstone Blade holds me in its thrall, its golden power gleaming around me.
Moments ago, the Ember King accused me of withholding peace from this land, rejecting any responsibility for the destruction of this village.
Moments ago, I held the smallest hope that I could reason with these men. I thought I could offer myself up to them in exchange for protecting this village, and maybe…justmaybe…I could forge a path through the devastation awaiting me.
Now, my screams suffocate in my throat as a stream of molten gold shoots up my arm again, a single line of power that disappears beneath my tunic.
And then, suddenly and stunningly, it appears to split.
Three threads of power burst from my chest, spearing through the air in front of me, each thread striking toward one of the kings.
The three men have remained concealed in shadow andsmoke, and I can’t see exactly where the threads connect with their bodies, but Ifeelit happen.
The impact shakes me so hard that my legs wobble.
I gasp as the Ember King emerges first from the smoke on my right, flames licking around his hands.
He wears armor that appears to be made from some kind of leather with multiple straps, the color of deep orange ochre crisscrossing his broad chest. Pants made of a similar material cover his muscular legs down to the tops of his beige boots.
His body gleams with sweat, his tan skin glistening, the fury of the flames rising off his hands all the way up into the air at his sides, accentuating his square jaw and the sultry curve of his lips.
Heat fills his dark-brown eyes as his gaze runs from my head to my toes, but it’s a dangerous heat.
A heat that will burn me.
He doesn’t yet appear aware of the thread of power stretching between us, and while I don’t understand what that thread means, I need him to listen to me.
“I don’t know why you hate me?—”
The moment I speak, the Frost King darts from the shadows on my left, in the opposite direction of Maxim.
I prepare to defend myself, to spin to him, when the blade catches the light again.
A second stream of molten gold shoots up my arm. It doesn’t split, but instead?—
My mind fractures.
It physicallysplits.
A new scream rises to my throat as my perception cleaves into three.
Three complete thirds, each one focused on a king, while my body remains intact.
