Page 61 of Haunted

He buries his face in her hair. “I have an idea. If it’s anything like the past few minutes, my Niawen, then I know all too well.”

She nuzzles closer to Kelyn.

Does she return his affections?

No. Look to my light. Look at me!

She stiffens and pulls away from Kelyn. Something is wrong. “Alert the men! A raid’s happening now, to the north.”

Perfect. My men don’t even need my command. They know instinctively when to cause trouble.

Albus takes to the air. I see the fight then. Not far away, a village under attack.

Niawen hurries to the battle on her shimmering-white dragon, with the prince, far ahead of his men who race there on horseback.

Once Niawen lands, she’s fearless. She walks right through fire in a burning house to rescue a child. My body tenses until she emerges through a hole she blasted in a wall. She is unharmed. How? Can emrys harness light in such a way that they are safe from fire?

Amazing. She is far more powerful than I can imagine.

The prince rushes into battle, leaving Niawen to get the women and children to safety outside the burning village.

My heart sinks when Niawen returns to enter the fray. Did I really think she’d sit on the sidelines?

Of course not.

Albus has a hard time seeing. Smoke is thick. The heat is strong. He might not last this night. But he flies closer as she draws toward the center of town, and lands on a roof that has not caught fire.

I’ve seen some of what Niawen’s capable of, and even as I’m curious about her limits, I fear for her.

She turns in battle, confident in the face of her attackers as she unleashes her light. She takes down men easily. She’s loyal to the humans she fights beside. I didn’t expect her love for them, but even with the leagues between us, her emotions are strong. I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s an emrys. They’re bound to others by love.

They are driven to seek love.

As the enemy closes in, I sense danger. Niawen is so close to the prince. Albus watches them fight.

He blinks.

One second Prince Kelyn is fighting valiantly, and the next, his hands close around an arrow’s shaft, an arrow lodged into his heart.

When the prince drops to the ground, the world stops for Niawen.

The men she fights with drop their weapons. They’ve lost.

Something grows inside her.

Determination. Anger. Revenge.

She spreads her arms and spins.

Light whips down the length of her arms and into her fingertips and streaks from her body like a flash of lightning.

Every ruffian is dead before he hits the ground.

The prince’s men are unharmed.

I feel Niawen’s shock as she surveys the damage she’s inflicted. Her arms are held away from her side. Her midsection tightens as if she’s going to be sick.

I gasp when she staggers. Her light flickers and grows cloudy. Still within my familiar, I fall to my knees in my chamber in Rolant.

---