Golden briars break through the roof, forming shields around me. I close my eyes, hearing thethunkof arrows hitting my briars. They won’t hold long.
I take a deep breath. Wielding the magic of change is like making my body beat with the pulse of the universe. Raising my hands, I imagine my consciousness flowing out across the bridge on both sides. The Deep Guard and Tundrafolk… I canfeeltheir heat, their hearts.
A gasp of pain shoots through me. The underfae and their mole steeds…they’re different. They are there but ice cold—numb and distant. There’s nothing to grab on to.
Opposite to that, the souls of my princes burn like flames, too hot, too heavy for me to grab. What power did my mother possess to have changed such spirits?
I concentrate on the hearts of the Deep Guard and Tundrafolk. I spread my consciousness as if it were a pair of wings, imagining the unfurling of great white feathers, spreading the tendrils of my mind like talons.
Magic surges up through my body, filling my veins and skittering along my bones. It’sdelightedto be free, to rush out into the world. It’s as if I’m aglow with the heart of the Vale.
Something bursts into the air. A snowy owl, wings spread. Then another owl soars skyward. Then another.
One by one, our soldiers take flight.
The edges of my vision darken, and my briars shake. With every ounce of magic I pour into the Deep Guard, I lose my protection. But there’s still so many of them down there, fighting in the tunnels, fighting for Winter and me.
I won’t give up on them.
I scream. My briar shields fall, withering to the rooftop like dried leaves. It doesn’t matter. My powermustgo to our people. Must change them into something that can survive.
Survive to live for themselves, their loved ones. Survive to fight for the Vale once more.
Sweat drips down my brow, and my legs shake, but through my blurred vision, another ribbon of white owls soars into the air. Hundreds of owls cloud the sky now, each flap of their wings like a beacon of hope.
My heart beats wildly, the tendrils of my magic searching, but I don’t feel anyone else. I’ve saved those I can.
Someone on the airship blows a horn that can only mean retreat. The snowy owls react, flying to the airship for safety.
I let out a lungful of air. I did it. Our soldiers… They have a chance to escape. They won’t die here because of me and my command.
And I used every last drop of magic within me to save them.
Collapsing to my knees, I waver as a sickening rush of nausea sweeps over me. Black speckles cloud my vision. The world tilts, and before I can stop it, gravity pulls me down the slanted roof. I shoot out a useless hand, but there’s no grip left in my fingers.
Momentum wins. Tumbling off the rooftop, I plunge through the air. A railing slams into me—then another—before the stone of the bridge rises up to meet me with a horrible thud.
My body aches, but distantly, I know I have to stand. Stand because my life depends on it.
I blink, trying to clear my blurry vision. Where is Kel? There are shapes wavering.
Horned shapes. Underfae, swords drawn, stalking toward me.
I must stand?—
The shapes stop, then drift to the side. Someone is walking through the parted crowd.
I blink again. A set of massive antlers and a huge, black sword come into view.
Faustrius.
37
Farron
“We meet on the battlefield again, Autumn Princeling!” PerthQuellos gives a maniacal laugh.
“And like last time, we’ll defeat you,” I growl, my voice deeper through the wolf’s maw.
