Page 126 of The Forbidden Fae King

Keira’s legs give out beneath her, and I catch her with an arm around the waist and lower her to the ground. Her eyes are glazed and distant, and her magic is completely spent.

Caitlin still sways on her feet and Klara helps to lower her.

My every instinct roars at me to keep her safe. To protect her behind my body, but I alone am the assassin’s target and that would put her in the line of fire. Both Drake and Klara drag the sisters into the protective center of the circle and work on regenerating some of their reserves..

I face the battle once more. The woody cage around is still intact, now a fine mesh with holes the size of my thumb. The airshield upon it is even finer, dotted with daggers.

A rain of white needles falls upon us, so thick I cannot see anything beyond it. The wards shatter the barbs of light at first, but then they begin to pierce the shield, their length sticking deeper and deeper into our defense. The walls become a pincushion.

“We cannot wait here.” I pace.

“It is near impossible to fight hand-to-hand with an assassin and survive.” Silvan growls back. “We cannot leave.”

“Our forces are at a disadvantage here. I will rip apart the city if I move the bedrock or disturb the trees too much.” I growl.

The robed Worshippers of Peace take up their chanting again, and as it reaches a crescendo, the wards shatter completely. A great woosh of air propels the needle embedded pieces away from us, impaling an assassin who had been lunging toward us. His body contorts as he is thrown backward into a building, then falls from these heights.

The rain momentarily pauses.

Twenty Worshippers of Peace step out of our fortifications, then fresh wards snap into place. They are near suicidal in their protection of peace. They draw long swords from their backs in unison, then leap into the air, riding growing branches under their control, toward three assassins.

Worshippers of Peace and assassins fly through the air around us, fighting and leaping off hardened air or vegetation. Sparks fly off swords as they clash. The screeching of metal on metal is almost deafening.

I bark orders at my people, some to focus on strengthening that shield, others to thrust away any blades of light and poison that arc toward us, and the rest with me, trying to catch those agents of death in a grip of thorny brambles.

It is difficult to see the battle raging beyond that intermittent rain of deadly projectiles, but each time the assassins are completely engaged in combat with the Worshippers of Peace, the onslaught stops.

It tells me that there isn’t another assassin lurking elsewhere, controlling those needles.

My attention zones in on three worshippers fighting a single assassin. I weave a spider web thin network of branches all around them. One worshipper swings their sword in a low, disembowelling swipe, sending the assassin staging backward on steps of air to avoid it. Another takes a lunge at his hamstrings, but the assassin leaps upwards, somersaulting in the air, right into my near-invisible network.

My power rushes into those brambles.

In seconds, they thicken by ten times, and razor-sharp thorns blast out in rapid growth along them. The assassin is torn apart in their tangle.

The rain of poisoned projectiles falling upon us lessens.

The blood rushes in my ears as I search for the other two assassins. A Worshipper for Peace falls from the air before my scanning gaze, their golden robe streaked with red, followed by another. The assassin who took them out only has two more warriors pairing with him.

I set up the same trap as before, and use a few thicker tendrils to block the assassin’s attacks. To snag an ankle or wrist and pull open his defenses. I tug the assassin off balance for a single moment, and a worshipper cleaves him in half with a swing of her huge battle axe.

More Worshippers of Peace fall through the air, their limp bodiesarching in their descent into the darkness and their robes fluttering around them. A constant stream of worshippers run out of the temple to join our original protectors, and more slip out of our protections to join the battle.

The final assassin runs along the roof of our fortification, dropping bombs of light and raw energy in his wake. The entire balcony shakes with each blinding blast, and I am forced to half crouch to keep my footing. My ears ring with a high-pitched whine and a crack resounds around us.

The wards have been breached. I can feel the fissure in them, but I cannot see a damned thing. My entire vision is saturated with pure light. I blink and blink again.

Sight returns and that assassin is running straight for me. I take grasp of the cage of branches around us and slam all those woody limbs straight into him, like a hammer striking an anvil. At the same moment, I wield hands of air to pluck my people right out of my way, placing them roughly back onto their feet. In a fraction of a second before the assassin’s body crushes, he throws a thick blade of poisoned light.

It’s fast trajectory flies straight for my chest.

Time slows to an impossible speed, each breath lasting a lifetime. I raise an arm, but I know the blade will pierce the plates in my armor and any shield I can throw up.

The assassin didn’t try to save himself. Instead he poured all of his power into that final blow. A drop of that poison in my blood could slowly kill me.

I try to turn my chest away from the path of that blade rippling with lightning, but I am too slow.

The bulk of Drake’s body flies in front of me, and the dagger pierces his right shoulder, tossing his weight straight into me. Drake crumples into my arms, his eyes rolling back into his head.

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