Page 36 of The Forbidden Fae King

The blood that drips from him is satisfying. How did we come to this?

I barrel my shoulder into Cyprien’s chest and my weight throws us both to the ground, rolling in the dirt.

“I. Didn’t. Open. The. Fucken. Portal.” I growl, landing on top and punching him in his stupid face.

He spits blood. “Then who did? The humans?Please.”

“Maybe,” I say.

Somehow, in the absolute chaos of the battle, my attention is stolen for a split second by those human girls, as they run through the edge of the battle toward the forest.

We could lose them in there, and I am not about to track humans with an enemy force at my heels. I need them, as witnesses to my innocence and as my glimpse into their Otherworld.

I throw out a hand in their direction, my power taking hold of those vines wrapped around the portal and making them whip out to catch the women in their ropey length. I bundle up the two humans in vines and move them slowly, delicately, back to the moonstone portal. It is a callous, desperate move, but they will have to forgive me.

In that single moment of distraction, with my air shield down, an unnoticed arrow flies through the battlefield and pierces my right shoulder.

The impact throws me off Cyprien.

My head rebounds off stone and the entire world turns black for an instant. Pain rushes in, exploding within my skull and chest, and all I can do is breathe. I cannot get up, my mind too jarred from the brunt force. The iron tang of blood fills my mouth.

The sounds of the battle crash around me, the panicked voices of my soldiers as Silvan calls out to form an overlapping turtle formation of their bodies and shields.

The whistle of arrows flying through the air registers in my mind,then puncturing the ground with dozens of thwacks, all around me. I shudder as the sensation of arrows slicing into my magic shield reverberates through me. Not all of my people have my immense ability to form them.

We are losing, I can feel it.

I am only senseless for a few seconds, but it is enough to turn the tide of the battle. I scramble to get up and find Silvan pulling me to my feet. An enemy charges at his back and he whips around to defend. Both Drake and Klara materialize behind me, protecting my flank from three of Cyprien’s warriors.

I scan the high ground and find the bastards with the bows and arrows, four of them standing at the top of the hill. Rage thunders through my veins as I send roots through the ground to whip out and crush their bows and bones alike.

They will heal in time.

Another volley of arrows whistle through the air and I swing around to second group of archers hiding in more trees. I make quick work of trapping the soldiers into the wood, feet, bodies, hands, whatever I can grab at in a fraction of time.

But there are more archers. Cyprien must have another dozen people out there, taking us down from the shadows. This show of force means he is desperate.

I whip around in a full circle, trying to find Cyprien within the madness of fighting bodies, throwing away any who rush me with a volley of air. A crazed spriggan bolts past, notched with arrows and screaming.

My energy is sapping away with each drop of blood that flows from my wound. My magic is disappearing just as rapidly. The iron and ash are preventing it from healing.

“Retreat!” I roar. “Retreat to the delta site!”

I use the last of my power to throw up an air shield over the entire battlefield to stop those damned arrows, unable to distinguish between friend and foe who tangle so closely in their wrestling and clashing blades. Arrows hit the surface and sink in. I feel each one like a slap to the back.

“Silvan! With me!” I yell at the man and he follows immediately.

We run toward the human women, so vulnerable in the bonds of vines I put them in.

Their eyes grow wide and faces pale at the sight of me. I can imagine why. I must look a brute. Blood smeared across my skin and armor, both black and red. Sweat and dirt and stubble across my face. The horns and war markings of my warrior power.

A pang of guilt fills me at the sight of what I did to them; hands, arms, legs, all bound into a spindle like flies captured by a spider. Even their mouths are covered, like my subconscious couldn’t bear to hear them scream.

In the heat of the battle, I didn’t put the proper care into their treatment. I wouldn’t want to be that helpless with so much fighting around me.

My lost sword flies up into my hand as I run past it, thrown to me by my thrust of air. I swing it to cut the vines tethering the women to the portal. It is far quicker than unraveling all that magic. Before I make contact with the bindings, my weary mind tries to think up something heroic to say to them, about how I will save and protect them.

As my blade swings to meet vines, something snaps in those huge doe eyes of the prettier girl. Her red hair turns into pure firelight, red, orange and yellow tongues of flame licking the air. This close, the heat of it sears my face.

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