More silence. I’m more than halfway to the palace, my guardsfurther back. I can smell the wildflowers, the sweet nectar that seems to permeate this land and yet, nothing stirs.
Then, drums in my ear. Sudden, brackish beats that pound into my temples. My fingers turn reddish-black and bend, rising to the call of an impending attack.
But Ican’tsee anyone.
“Max, look out!”
A spear comes barreling at me, straight through the clouds. The silver tip drills through the air, there’s no chance for my escape. I close my eyes to brace for impact.
Reid slams into me as we tumble into the dirt. We glance back, the spear stabbing the ground with such force, my hair blows back from my face and dust kicks up.
Reid pants, “Still think they’re friendly?”
A thunderous call sounds from the far walls and dozens of tiny flames erupt. Mouth parting, I watch as those flames hike higher and I realize with sick fascination, that they’re not flames. They’re arrows.
Flaming arrows. There are guards ready to let them loose and we’re out in the open.
Together Reid and I twist, darting through the spray as they release. Fire catches on the bark, thethunkof the tips striking the wood with hard pressure. Everything turns into kindling. Smog erupts, clogging our noses and mouths as we try to find shelter.
Throwing myself at a tree, my guards fight and avoid the arrows, using their swords as makeshift shields. Some take cover under the trees but the leaves overhead catch on fire, and we’re hunkering under falling soot. If we stay here, we’re dead.
And the Woodland Fae guards aren’t going to help us.
Aoife is not the type to listen to reason.
I move. If I’m a queen, then I need to act like one. Saving my people is what I’m meant to do.
Searching the parapet, I hunt for all the hearts there. They hold the arrows. They’re attacking us.
If I can do what I did in my dream—grab all their hearts into onethread and control their movements—I can stop the arrows. We can access the castle. They’ll be safe.
Fingers twist and bend, knuckles popping as I clasp to the lives high above. This is natural, this is comfort. Locating all of them takes only a few breaths. Arrows fly past and my soldiers shriek, impaled. Burnt flesh wafts into the air.
The threads come together, rolling into a long rope. Coiled tightly, wrapped together, my fingers compel it closer. They weave and stretch, becoming a beautiful work of art of red lines and pulsating energy.
Then, Ipull.
Carefully, I hold their hearts and the arrows stop. I know this is wrong—but not one bit of guilt enters my mind. This is necessary—this is needed.
“Go!” I shout, urging them on. With one hold on the guards, I know I’m limited in my magic without using too much. The faster we breach the walls, the sooner we can show Aoife we’re not the enemy. We’re allies.
The main gates are only steps away when a force knocks us backward. My head smacks into the ground, and my ears ring.
What was that?
Groggily, I open my eyes and see Reid next to me, on his back.
And his neck is slashed.
“No!”
Clawing at the dirt, I pull myself to his side, fingers touching his throat. Blood soaks my hands, the dirt, his tunic. It’s fucking everywhere. Wide amber eyes plead with me and I gulp, as the roaring noise of battle rolls over me.
Another blast of energy detonates and all of us fall back. The ground shakes, trees break with large branches falling and I crumple, covering Reid’s body from the debris.
“Enough,” a woman commands. It carries over the field and I cling to Reid’s chest.
I have one hand on the thread that ties me to the guards, but Reid isdying. The wound is large, gaping and wide, and he swallowsagainst the pain. Blood seeps out from every movement. Pulling back, I search his body, and try to hold the cut together with slick fingers.
