Where the hell do I go?
The army is an echo of the thunder behind me.
How many were there? A few dozen? A few hundred?
I didn’t stick around long enough to find out but I’m no match for ten of them let alone ten dozen.
But I do have one trick up my sleeve.
It’s questionable whether or not I can pull it off, but I have to try.
I come up against the palace wall and turn around to face the approaching army.
You are a queen, Mouse.
Now when I hear Bran’s voice in my head, it’s encouraging.
You are a fae queen with power beyond anyone’s comprehension and this fae army doesn’t stand a fucking chance.
Adrenaline surges through my body. The heat of excitement drowns out the anxiety and the overwhelming feeling of rightness undoes the knot of tension in my gut.
“Stop!” I call, digging deep to find my voice.
The army comes to a sudden, jolting stop.
Their armor clanks. Their swords are frozen, some raised in the air, some held by their side.
Unease shows on their faces.
A tall woman wearing a full suit of shinning golden armor grits her teeth and struggles against the command. She’s at the front of the line and if I had to guess, she’s the commander of this troop.
Her sword hand moves an inch.
I can feel them all fighting me.
It’s like a thousand rubber bands are connected to me and they’re pulling and pulling and pulling.
I stumble forward and nearly lose my balance.
The commander takes a step.
She takes another, then another. Her pace picks up.
If she makes it across this garden, I’m dead.
I press my back against the palace wall, bracing myself. “Stop!” I call again, but the woman somehow ignores the command and advances closer.
I feel the first sensation of a rubber band snapping.
I’m losing my grip on them.
I don’t have any more weapons. I used my knife on Sam and there was no way I was going to pull it out. I learned that in first aid in the seventh grade.
And thinking about that, about Sam dying or lying dead in the Summer Palace gives me another push, helps me summon all the courage and power that I can.
But this time, I try another tactic.
I raise my hands. Pressure builds at my sternum. It feels like a war drum. A constant thump, thump of synergy and power.