Fear.
My knees almost buckle under sudden cold certainty I will die here painfully, screaming the names of my family as we perish. I should simply give in and meet my fate in the flames. Sweat breaks out on my forehead, not only from the strain of working unfamiliar magic.
Hold it,Darkan says.A little longer.His voice sounds stronger, clearer. . .deeper?
I’m going to burn out.
Then burn out. You are Lord. You protect those you rule or you are unworthy of their fealty.
Contrarily, the whip of his merciless words feeds me strength. Purpose. They ring true, more true than anything he’s ever said to me.
Hold the line. The flames will eat me from the inside. But I will hold the line. Unworthy, foul halfling. Fit only to lick the boot of my betters. I inhale, trembling, sick to my stomach.
“Don't struggle against the fear,” Édouard says. “It's in your mind. The more you fight, the more it controls you. Rinne, hold the bridge. Think of nothing else. You’re doing well.” He raps out several orders, organizing the units while I focuseverythingon keeping the High Fae off us.
Of course. He’s impervious to mental manipulation. His Skill, though Danon once said it took centuries to realize itwasa Skill. But somehow, the Commander knows I’m the bridge between our personal shields. For once there’s no dislike in his voice, no contempt. It’s steady, offering what Darkan offered; strength.
Instead of fighting the fear, I let it wash through me. But Realms, the pain. It feels like carrying a horse on my back while hamstrung and stabbed all over. I fall to one knee, the bridged shield starting to crumble.
“Hold.”
Hold.
Two male voices speak. One external, one internal.
Hold the line. Tears stream down my cheeks to mingle with the blood, my face twisting. Hold the line. Death before failure. Surrender my life before I surrender my duty.
I scream.
My mind breaks, goes black, something hungry and feral rising to take its place before I tamp it down. The shield splinters.
A warrior buckles; flames consume him. I shove aside a wild keen and seething anger as Numair pulls me stumbling to my feet. We shift to fill the gap while I yank on the edges of the shield and link it back together. Édouard signals to advance; it’s that or stand still.
We move slowly. They learn quickly that if they move too fast, the shield falters.
Exhaustion creeps in. I must hold. I can’t let my family feel my strain. Hope feeds strength and to their credit, they move with no doubt. Being forced into a defensive position shredsmy temper, but defense is what they need from me right now. When I survive, I’ll pay this ambush forward. Juliette’s shoulder bumps mine; some of her energy flows into me, a sacrifice.
The male High Fae meets us, steps unhurried. His gaze touches mine, curiosity only in his. No malice, or anger, or contempt. This is. . .just a job to him.
“How rare,” he says. “I would have liked to study you. Pity.”
In a burst of extinction energy, my thoughts clear. So everyone but me knows what this affinity is. I should have known too but, well. . .my tutors gave up on me by the time I was seventeen, to my Poli-Sci professor father’s resignation. He’s hinted over the years his wish I attend Everenne University, but he won’t nag or coerce—though I have a feeling he’ll get his way one day. He’s the bloody diplomat of Everenne. He’s biding his time.
But I’m not what one might call inclined to academics, despite a few years at State University in New York, and that might also be why he gave up.OccasionallyI toy with the idea of doing something about that, but really, what for? I can kill, I can manage a business.
Good enough.
“But that is enough of that,” the mage says.
Focus, girl!
The shield breaks.
Power hits us. At least the flames wink out.
A warrior three people over is lifted in the air and thrown as the same power barrels into me.
I’m skyborne, hitting a tree trunk seconds later.
