Page 124 of Fortune's Blade

But that had been their conclusion, after learning of her existence from a survivor of the band who had kidnapped her on the orders of Efridis, Aeslinn’s queen, who had wanted to use her as a weapon against her hated husband. She had figured out who Dorina was before anyone else, having met the two of us on Earth, but most of the fey she’d sent after her had quickly done what enemies tended to do when they encountered my sister. And the lone survivor probably wished he had, having been picked up and tortured by the king until he spilled his guts.

To recap, then, Zeus wanted to use Dorina, Aeslinn and his puppet Steen wanted to kill her, and if she got to the portal before either of those things happened, whatever was on the other side might be even worse.

I wasn’t having a good day as a result, and it was not improved by the sight of what had just come over the mountain range to our left.

Louis-Cesare said a very bad word in French, which was echoed by some roaring from the two dragonkind, which the translation spell interpreted merely as outraged squawking. I didn’t know if that was because the spell tended to avoid profanity, or if the sounds were an approximation of their feelings. But either way, it hurt my ears.

Like the thunderous boom that had me jumping out of my skin a moment later. It was so loud that I looked up, thinking that it must be about to rain. But the skies were clear, with nothing to see but a field of stars and some vague flickers of aurora borealis limning the mountains.

And the body of a burning dragon plunging through the air like a winged comet, screaming all the way down.

I started and looked back at the city, following a trail of smoke from where the dragon had just fallen, and saw—

“What are those?” I yelled, causing Regin to glance at me over his shoulder, probably because he didn’t know human voices could get that high.

“They’ve brought out the big guns,” he answered, and that . . .

Was undeniable.

Those were big guns.

“What the hell?” Louis-Cesare said, because he was staring at barrels the size of lighthouses, with a few that were two or three times that big, that had just poked out all over the city. Leaving it looking like a hedgehog wedged into a mountain with its butt hanging out.

Its very well protected butt.

But considering that it was facing what looked like every dragon in Faerie, I did not give much for its chances. While Lord Rathen gathered his allies, Steen must have been doing the same. And his were all here, peppering the sky in force, a magnificent sight that was as unreal as it was deadly.

And the dragons weren’t the only problem, because two Svarestri warriors jumped us the next moment, despite the fact that we were nowhere near the ground. But then, they hadn’t come from the ground, had they? They’d come from the weird, small, roughly pyramid-shaped, wooden craft that was hovering silently in the air over top of us.

I tried to make sense of it, but it didn’t have a propeller or wings or anything to help me out. And I didn’t have time anyway, as the damned thing was like a clown car vomiting up four more silver-haired bastards. All of whom jumped down onto Regin’s back like it was no big thing while I was still grappling with the first.

Or with one of the first, because Louis-Cesare had just grabbed the other and popped his head off one handed, like thumbing a cork out of a wine bottle.

The others paused at that, having apparently never met a furious, first level master before. And he was furious, crouching on the dragon’s back with his color high, his nostrils flaring and that glorious auburn mane blowing around his head. But there was a smile tugging at his lips, because he hadn’t had a chance to defend me before, and now he did.

I saw him give into the sentiment and full-on grin at the fey, showing a lot of fang; I saw them look at each other with far less concern than the moment warranted; and then I didn’t see much else, except for a blur and a bunch of flying bodies.

And another weird little pyramid zooming up to help the first.

In fact, there was way more than one suddenly, with Regin and his son being buzzed like they’d accidentally stepped onto a hornet’s nest. The small vessels were zipping about, spiraling over and under and everywhere I looked, although most were keeping their distance due to the thrashing of great tails and the snapping of teeth filled maws. Although I wasn’t sure what they thought they were going to do even if they got closer against creatures the size of a freaking Airbus.

And then they kindly demonstrated, with a mass of lightning scrawling all over Regin’s hoary hide.

He let out a bellow that I felt in my bones, just about the time that the lightning, which was coming from the base of one of the little vessels, reached the area that my attacker and I were on. And dropped us. We hit the deck, juddering and helpless, and unable to do anything but watch as one of the vessels attacking Antem was annihilated by a vicious swing of that massive tail.

The entire top half of the ship was destroyed, sending the base bouncing over top of us like a lightning-edged band saw, spitting fire. It somehow missed our bodies, just showering us with sparks, but the debris didn’t. Including a shard that tore through my jacket and ricocheted off a rib, and another that stuck in my shoe and felt like it severed a toe.

But I barely noticed because I was currently being electrocuted.

What felt like fifty thousand volts had just torn through me, which would have likely incinerated Louis-Cesare, but he had jumped at the last second. And grabbed hold of the doorway of one of the little crafts strafing us, causing it to sling wildly around and dump out another contingent of surprised looking fey. They had not seemed to know how high a master can jump, or how hard I could kick, until I demonstrated by sending one of them flying.

Although not because I had planned it that way.

But because that jolt had done something to my nervous system that made me spasm and kick uncontrollably, including my Hubby. Who was trying to grab me while being dragged around by the crazy little craft he’d caught and wasn’t letting go of, despite the fey he’d shaken loose attacking him all at once. Some of them trampled me and my fellow sufferer in the process when Louis-Cesare slung around this way again, and they followed him like a bunch of lemmings.

Deadly lemming with bows and spears and machete-length knives, but he still wasn’t letting go, I didn’t know why.

Oh, that’s why, I thought, when Antem spilled a wash of fire across his father’s back. It carved a swath through the fey, sending four puffing into clouds of black ash and the rest diving out of the way. And one of the latter was tripped up by the remains of the first group of warriors, causing him to barrel off into the air with a vanishing scream.

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