When had she last encountered a battle like this? She could remember the experience of it. The strong gusts of magic, the scent of blood, the feeling of flesh tearing beneath her blade. She glanced over to The Demon, his gaze solely focused on the task at hand.
They’d fought together before. Her magic almost seemed to reach for him, begging to blend with his own and become an unstoppable force. Maybe right now that was exactly what they needed.
They tore through the Dark Fae, closing in on the horde in the distance. Then Arianna felt it, the slight prickle on her skin that she’d committed to memory. Judging from his reaction, The Demon felt it, too. A glamour. Arianna growled. She wouldn’t allow herself to be ensnared by anyone from Pádraigín ever again.
Images of giant beasts materialized before her eyes, but Arianna refused to back down. They were so realistic that she could feel the heat from their breath as she dove around them, heading straight for the source of the magic. The creature within her writhed, rage matching her own in response to their pathetic attempts. She’d had someone far more powerful in her mind. This magic was nothing in comparison.
The pair of Fae warriors stepped back, faces lit up in surprise. One drew his weapon, but Arianna ducked under the blade, then twisted and dragged a dagger across the first male’s throat. Earth came up and snapped the legs of the second, but Arianna raced toward the male, stealing the killing blow with her blade before The Demon could have the satisfaction.
These warriors were hers. Each and every one of them. She’d deliver them all to the grave herself.
Death followed in her wake. An old friend, one she’d never thought to make. But she was tired of running from it. Death was a friend of war. Death was now her ally.
The bodies thickened and their pace slowed as they clashed with the masses. Enemies pursued, warriors fought, and civilians fled, creating a symphony of madness that blurred together on all sides.
Arianna scented the air, searching for Pádraigín’s wretched power. She aimed for them first. She could see through their glamours easily now. Pádraigín’s warriors were the reason their line kept breaking. If she eliminated them, the others could focus on reforming.
One.
Four.
Seven.
The rush of blood in her ears had Arianna wanting more. She craved the way they fell at the touch of her hand. They weren’t worth the use of her magic. This was personal. She stared into the eyes of those who thought murdering civilians was right and relished in the light leaving their eyes.
Arianna dodged a bursting flame. Her magic rose up to claim the creature responsible, then she was running again, the acrid air burning her lungs as she shot blades of ice out in all directions. One of the beasts lunged for another female, this one running with a slight limp, her ankle already swollen. The earthitself came up to swallow the creature, tugging it beneath the ground where it made no more sound.
She met The Demon’s gaze for a moment, then continued fighting. Never stopping. Never slowing. She had no way of knowing where Talon or Raevina might be. No way to know when reinforcements were coming from Nàdair as she pushed further toward the horde, breaking through their back line. All she knew was that this was a battle, and each second she spent overthinking instead of acting was another moment someone might die.
So Arianna turned herself into a living weapon and let her magic soar.
Chapter Seventeen
Saoirse
Arianna and Rion fought side by side in a frenzy, clearing a path so wide that other warriors rallied behind them. It hadn’t taken long to restore some order, especially with Arianna eliminating the Fae of Pádraigín as if it were her personal mission.
Saoirse smirked. It was about time she’d grown a backbone. Saoirse just wished it hadn’t taken torture to ultimately bring out that side of her.
Saoirse slammed another dark creature aside, then returned her focus to her own line and the half-breed fighting with just as much ferocity beside her. Zylah had refused to leave Saoirse’s side, even when presented with the option to heal the injured. Not that healing was a top priority at the moment. The Dark Fae were a never-ending torrent. Alec needed to hurry; surely he’d received the warning by now.
Saoirse scanned the throng of Fae, heart hammering in her chest. There’d been no time or opportunity to tell Zylah why she was drifting away from Rion and Arianna. Zylah followed anyway. The two would keep one another safe. She had other priorities.
The Fae fighting and fleeing were predominantly from Móirín. More precisely, Levea. Their numbers told her most had survived up until this point. So where wasshe? The last Saoirse knew, their mother had gone to stay with Avalon. Which meant she’d have been among those fleeing.
Saoirse’s head whipped around, and she slashed through another Dark Fae. The creature squealed in pain, its too-long body curling in on itself. Saoirse studied the hooked feet, anunnatural curve to the heel that forced the creature to walk too far forward.
Unnatural.
She’d spotted Avalon’s sea of magic in the distance. The male fought hard, keeping an entire section at bay with his power alone. Others battled alongside him, likely his personal guard, but there was no mistaking the power thrumming from the High Lord himself. Was Eimear with him?
Saoirse scented the air, though it did little good with the symphony of magic surrounding them. There was too much blood and carnage. Too much magic.
A large beast slammed into her from the side, and Saoirse cursed her distracted mind. An air current tore the creature away, ripping through flesh in a matter of seconds. She briefly met Zylah’s gaze, then kept moving. Pride flew through Saoirse’s chest at the sight of the half-breed dancing through her opponents, blade in hand. Her movements were simple and repetitive. If she were fighting one on one, she’d be a liability, but out here, where the enemies were constantly changing, they were more than effective.
The wind shifted, giving Saoirse a momentary breath of fresh air. She turned southward and scanned the battlefield.
Her stomach dropped.