“Curse the queen! I’m your brother. The future king! Let me go or I swear I’ll—” His frantic gaze kept cutting to the water, the rage in him waning, replaced by something far more panicked and desperate. “Please, brother. I can’t let her die.”
If there had ever been a doubt in Elora’s mind that the prince had cared deeply for Kestrel, the sound of him cracking diminished it entirely.
Efrem didn’t say a word. Leighton muttered something about never being able to forgive him for this, but Elora could hardly hear him. She could hardly hear the queen beginning her chants to the Sky-Blessed, trying to access the power of the orb that she had claimed. Elora was too busy staring into the grey waters, horror-struck and frozen. The air bubbles were slowing. Kestrel still hadn’t resurfaced; she was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t swim and Elora didn’t know how long she could hold her breath—maybe a minute? A few? If she couldn’t help herself, then she needed someone to do it for her.
But there was no one left.
No one but Elora.
Except if she went into those waters, if she so much as grazed Kestrel with the slightest touch, the young woman she was coming to admire would be dead. Without any hailstone to block her Ashen magic, Elora was useless?—
Only then it struck her.
There was hailstone here.
Kestrel’s ring.
Elora had almost forgotten. But there it was, sitting on the bank, looped around her discarded necklace.
It was just a stride away. But it would cost Elora everything.
There would be no going back if she did this.
Across from her, she heard Queen Signe curse at the orb. “Why isn’t it working? Sky-Blessed hear me, grant my pleas and bestow upon me this ancient power! Do as I command you!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Elora noticed the orb changing colors. The blue light dimmed, engulfed by a dark red hue that now emanated from the center like an ominous warning.
The queen began to gasp and cry, juggling the orb from one hand to another. The guards who weren’t monitoring the princes and Elora rushed to her side to try to aid her, but the queen refused them.
“Don’t you dare! Keep your hands off it! It’s mine!” Her cries penetrated each command as the orb seemed to grow angrier, hotter.
This was Elora’s chance. While most of the guardsmen were distracted.
Elora spun around to the knight behind her first. He was so preoccupied watching in horror as the queen’s hands burned that he almost didn’t notice her lifting hers toward his face. With one outstretched, slate-grey finger, Elora pressed against his forehead just before he could cry out. Power surged from her. His eyes went cross. Then they blanched white. His cheeksbecame gaunt as her magic tore through him and siphoned every last day of life he had left in him.
She didn’t allow herself to think about the family he’d be leaving at home. Nor the unaccomplished hopes and dreams he had left to achieve. The guilt would consume her later. For now, all that she knew was that he had to die.
As the last vestiges of vivacity were drained, before his body could fall, Elora was already turning toward the guard in front of her. The thump of the first man’s body hitting the ground made the other guard jump. He likely thought it was just the rootless traipsing in the forest around them. But he would never find out.
Before he could spin around to investigate, Elora’s hand was upon his flesh as well. In an instant, the life drained out of him, leaving behind a sickly husk of the man he had been.
His body collapsed and Elora bolted around him. She tripped over her skirts, slamming into the dirt as she reached the ring. Someone shouted, but she didn’t hear what they were saying. Couldn’t focus on anything but the ring.
She fumbled with the chain of the necklace, cumbersome and tangled, but finally she managed to slip the ring around her finger.
Without her magic keeping them at bay, the monsters of the Hollows descended upon them.
Gravemoors lurched from the ground, ensnaring the guardsmen and dragging them below the earth. The rootless who had been patiently stalking suddenly charged through the trees from all directions. Their vines and branches whipped and snatched anyone they could. They eviscerated knights, crippled their limbs.
As chaos ensued, the Thundersworn Brigade turned their attention to the monsters.
No one seemed to notice Elora.
No one except Prince Micah.
His eyes were wide. He watched her in a way she’d never seen him look at her before. Like he believed in her. Like he was counting on her.
Elora dove into the water without another thought about the carnage happening behind her or the dangers lurking below. All she could think about was Kestrel. Save Kestrel. Get Kestrel out of here.
