Brielle jerks against her invisible bindings, rasping unintelligible words, garbled by the chains around her throat.
“What was that?” He holds a hand up to his ear.
She gasps, sucking in air.
Her chest heaves as her eyes meet his, and she says, “I fared fine. Evelina? Not so much.” His body goes deathly still, and Brielle huffs a laugh. My breath stutters, recognizing their banter is far too familiar to be their first time meeting. She nods in my direction, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “And certainly not Lunaria—kidnapped to another realm with her magic suppressed her entire life.”
My skin turns to ice at her words. She’stryingto get a riseout of him. To distract him? I can’t be sure what her motive is, but my muscles tense in preparation for whatever happens next.
Daimon slowly turns his head toward me, his body still positioned in front of Brielle as he twists to look at me. If he feels anything from her words, he doesn’t show it. His eyes are cold and dark, his mouth pressed into a line.
“Lunaria.” My name leaves his mouth in a whisper—not soft, and certainly not kind. The sort of rasp that leaves a chill deep within my bones.
His gaze bores into mine, looking for something I’m not sure he wants to find. The magic binding me slips just a fraction. A flicker of my Essence builds within my chest, as if it were a candle that had just been lit. Not yet a roaring fire, but enough to hold onto.
It was the opening Brielle was looking for.
A wall of fire smacks into Daimon, separating him and Brielle. At the same time, a pillar of light encircles him, pushing in from his left. It has to be Leda; no other fae among our company could wield light.
Daimon meets the magic with his own, cocooning himself in a flurry of shadows. Through the darkness, his gaze stays on me. His eyes widen and his brows flick up.
A sound resembling thunder rolls into the air, crackling with strikes of lightning at each wave of magic that rams into Daimon’s shield of shadows.
Brielle shouts, her words muffled by the clashing of Essence. The wall of fire and light blocks me from seeing my friends, leaving me on the same side as Daimon.
Zephyr strains against her bindings beside me, her jaw snapping at the Lord of Shadows. His head snaps toward her, and she growls in response.
It’s just enough to distract him; his hold on me slips.
Magic coils in my veins, humming through me with a force so strong that I couldn’t keep it in anymore even if I tried. I want Daimon gone. If he won’t help us, he’s only in my way.
My turn.
This man could’ve been our salvation—our hope. He could’ve chosen to help us, to helpme, his daughter. But instead, he took one look at me and decided I wasn’t worth hearing out. He thinks we’re foolish for trying to help the innocent, and that says all I need to know about him.
The only thing we share is blood, because this man is not my father.
With an ocean’s worth of fury, I reach down into the well of magic inside of me and yank. If my magic is going to consume me, it’s at least taking Daimon down with me. A scream erupts from my mouth at the same moment a torrent of shadows aims at Daimon. Anything to buy my friends enough time to get away.
Brielle and Leda are still pressing their magic in on him, but he’s holding it with ease. Whenmymagic reaches him, the chains around me falter.
The sound of wings flapping and Brielle shouting fills the air. Trees sway and bend as dirt flies all around us. It’s working—they’re getting away.
Tendrils of fire and shadow surround Daimon, pushing against his vile darkness and shrouding him from view.
His hold on me slips further, and my knees crash into the dirt as the bindings dissolve around me. Zephyr is still struggling against hers, but is able to move far more than she could a few moments ago. I force my Essence to push harder, now blocking Daimon in from all sides.
My magic flares, not showing any signs of emptying. I grin and look up.
His shadows wrap around my fire, snuffing it out and sending a plume of smoke into the air. But myshadows are here to stay.
They war with his, a likeness in each clash. The difference between him and me? I am not alone.
Smoke clears, so all that remains between us are our shadows.
The moment my eyes meet his, my smile fades. He’s turned toward me completely now, watching with curiosity. It’s then that my magic feels…stronger. There should be resistance where it’s meeting Daimon’s, but instead it feels familiar. Like home.
I’ve never used this much of my magic—power that I thought would weaken now that I didn’t get to finish my trial. But maybe it wasn’t what everyone thought; maybe not finishing my trial doesn’t have to mean a life with no magic.
