Page 23 of Court of Bone and Amethyst

Owyn is at my side a moment later, and his magic forms into a trio of purple spears that are as solid as any physical form. He hurls them to our left, and another scream rises from the trees.Behind me, Sarielle’s horse spins in panic, rearing. I see Merla reach out, a pale yellow glow moving from her fingertips to the chest of Sarielle’s horse. He instantly drops his front legs to the ground, head drooping slightly as if asleep.

I kick my horse forward, bursting from the tree cover, spinning him in a circle so I can get a glimpse at our attackers while they’re injured and attempting to escape. Because escape we cannot allow. If even one of them makes it back to the castle, we’ll have Avonia’s entire army plus the ancient nightmare on our heels, and nothing will be able to save us then.

There are two warriors lying dead already, one from my shadows and the other from Owyn’s spear. Three warriors remain, a small scouting party, no doubt. One is limping, clearly injured, and the other two are backing away, notching arrows as they move.

I summon another wave of magic, this time calling my shadow ravens. They pour up and out of me in a deadly wave, a storm of deep gray that spirals around me and then launches at the warriors. They loose their arrows, but their aim is off in their panic at what comes for them, one whistling past Owyn’s head a full foot, and the other shooting straight up toward the clouds.

One of Owyn’s purple spears finds the heart of the closest archer, and my ravens engulf the other. She screams for only a moment before it cuts off in a hideous gurgle, the shadows going down her throat and expanding until she bursts apart in a cloud of black mist. The wounded man attempting to limp away endures a similar fate a moment later.

Silence falls across the plains.

“That was close,” Owyn says, his brow furrowed.

Sarielle walks her horse alongside mine. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

I shake my head. “I doubt it. But we should—”

There’s a crashing of branches to our right, and another warrior breaks from cover and makes a run for it. He’s already fifty feet away, and almost past the edge of the trees, where he’ll be in sight of the castle. A scream for help rises from his throat—

Something that shimmers like spilled midnight launches through the air. It looks like a phoenix, black flame shot through with streaks of glowing pewter. Dark wings, a sleek body, and a long, flowing tail. It hits the man, seeming to go both through him and engulfing him all at the same time. One moment he is there, and the next there is a sphere of shadow surrounding him, a sphere that spins almost faster than the eye can see before vanishing with a small flash.

I whip my head around to look at Owyn, but his eyes are transfixed on someone else. Sarielle.

Sarielle, who is sitting astride her horse, arm outstretched toward the dead warrior. Sarielle, whose eyes have gone black, only a halo of gold at her irises, an aura of shadow hovering in the air around her.

Chapter Fourteen

Sarielle

Istare in horrorand in wonder at the wisps of shadow dissipating from the spot where my magic disintegrated the warrior.

“Sarielle?” Zyren asks, his tone incredulous.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” I stammer. “I just… I knew if he escaped we’d be hunted. I knew he couldn’t get away. And I thought it, and then…”

I don’t know how it happened. I hadn’t eventried. That’s what’s so unnerving about it. What was it that came out of me? And what if it does that to someone innocent?

“Can you ride?” Zyren asks, the muscles in his jaw rolling. “We need to get out of here.”

I nod.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I snap.

Our eyes meet for a moment, and I can feel the storm that crackles between us.

“Okay,” he says, and he kicks his horse into a gallop.

After galloping at full speed for several miles to put distance between us and Avonia’s army as quickly as possible, we slow and alternate between walking, trotting, and cantering the horses until well past sunset. The moon is high in the sky by the time we pull into a shallow cave beneath a rocky overhang. The plains in this area are scattered with huge rocks, which break upward from the earth at sharp angles like a field of broken swords. I can still smell the faintest tang of salt on the air, though the ocean is a couple of miles away.

We hobble the horses together on one side of the cave, and on the other, Owyn creates a small fire with one of his magic orbs. It doesn’t let off much light, but it provides a good bit of heat, which is a welcome reprieve from the cold. Throughout the day, it had grown colder and colder, the wind driving and bitterly frigid. And I know it’s only going to get colder the farther north we travel. I’d never known such weather growing up in the Amethyst Palace, and I can tell I’m not going to like it very much.

“How are you feeling?” Zyren asks as he hands me a chunk of bread and cheese. Just as he’d asked every time we stopped for a break throughout the day, his tone gruff and uncaring, belying the worry I know hides behind it.

“I’m fine, Zyren,” I say. I mean to put some bite into it because I don’t need his constant fear that I’m going to lose control. I’m already worried enough as it is. But I’m exhausted from the long day’s ride, so it just comes out with a wave of fatigue.

His gaze rests on mine for a long moment, then he turns and strides off. “I’ll take first watch,” he calls to us over his shoulder.

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