Fae.
A broken trident.
Worn down by anger, pieced together by vengeance.
“Rinne.”
I might fail, but I will fail chaotically, victoriously, taking his blood and kin with me as I succumb to the maelstrom even if this time the one buried will be me.
“Aerinne.”
At least I won’t be the one lowering bodies into graves.
At least my death won’t be a betrayal from someone I trusted.
I hold his gaze and know—suddenly,know—that my death will punish him. Muriel’s only daughter, last of her line. Lost to him, forever, and by his own cursed hand.
And before I speak my last breath, I will whisper, the Mad Dog of Faronne killed your son, Prince. My death may be yours, but Embriel’s is mine.
I smile.
He steps forward. “Aerinne.”
“Nira al wyvar’im!”?1
The Prince straightens to his full height, gaze snapping into focus. Around us warriors battle in ragged remnants, but I watch just one out of the corner of my eye.
Manuelle, Lord of Flames, awaiting my signal.
“Think carefully,” the Old One says, emotionless. The contrast to the previous several minutes jolts me. He'd come alive, relaxed, and I hadn't noticed.
“Are you afraid?” I say.
“Don't be a fool.”
Then the sound I've been waiting for, a distant roar covering the agonized groan of a single male as he drops to one knee, clutching his head, surrounded by his guards. Has the Prince forgotten what Manuelle can do? What House Wyvenne hatched and nursed in the mountains distant from Everenne?
A whoosh of wing and flame as our forces pull back.
Prince Renaud tilts his head toward the sky, then sighs. “Some children must always ride the hardroad.” He lowers his head and gives me a mild look. “When I am done here, Aerinne, I will break you to my will.” His expression darkens. “Or perhaps just break you.”
Right. I'll be dead.
“Have fun.” I salute him and flicker out of sight, retreating as the wyverns descend from the clouds.
They’re small, the size of a semi, but possess deadly claws and scorching flame.
“Shields!” Baroun screams.
I shudder, lids fluttering closed as I lap up the sound.
The shape of the battle changes.
1 Release the wyverns
Chapter
Sixteen
