Page 21 of An Archer's Reckoning

I raised my right hand, palm upward, and a ball of magical flame appeared. It was a pinprick at first, but quickly grew to the size of a man’s head, swirling and licking like the hungry beast it was. I flicked my wrist and the ball divided in two, one darting toward the Sheriff and vanishing into his chest, while the other continued hovering above my hand.

The Sheriff’s eyes widened.

He leaped to his feet and tore at his gold-banded collar.

His eyes flew wide, and sweat erupted from his forehead. His pale face turned pasty white, then deep crimson.

A curl of smoke slivered out of one ear as the magical fire boiled him from inside.

Wilfred staggered and stumbled backward against the bar. Within seconds, his breath failed, and flames erupted across his face and chest, spreading to his dark shirt and cloak.

He fell to the floor and writhed in agony, screaming for someone to end his suffering with a quick death.

No one moved. Even Captain Proctor stood rigid, his face frozen in horror.

The Sheriff’s skin riddled with burns as flames raced from head to toe like some school of predatory fish devouring newfound prey. The putrid smell of smoldering flesh followed a sickening sizzle as his skin burned away.

I glared down at the dying man, my palm still filled with magical flame. “The fire will not kill you quickly. It burns deliberately, with a mind of its own, taking each organ to the brink of failure, yet leaving it alive, before moving to the next. Your heart will remain untouched, and magic will sustain you, but your eyes, your lungs, your skin—everything else will burn. Your blood will boil until every part of you teeters on death’s door. Only then will the fire consume your heart and release your spirit.”

I stared a moment, then casually turned back to the men seated around the table, each staring in shock. Even Danai’s face was ashen.

“The Sherriff’s objection is noted. Anyone else?” I asked, as if ticking off items on an agenda.

Still, no one spoke.

“Good. Now, to my wayward daughter.” I looked at Captain Proctor. “I do not want to see you again until Jess is standing in front of me.”

“But, Your Royal Highness . . .”

I flicked the ball of fire in my palm at the guard. He panicked and began beating at the flame that clung to his golden armor and spread across his bulky frame. A second later, I waved my hand and the fire vanished, leaving his armor and chest unharmed. He stared down at his unburned hands, trembling.

“Bring my daughter back to me, Captain,” I commanded through gritted teeth.

Proctor didn’t quite run out of the room, but he moved as quickly as his wounded dignity would allow without meeting the eyes of anyone else. When the door slammed behind him, I turned back to the wide-eyed men ofmyCouncil.

“No more talk of war games. Tonight, we discuss our invasion.”

Chapter 8

Declan

“Holy shit.” Ayden stumbled before bracing himself on the cavern wall. “Where . . . how . . . ?”

“He is almost as inelegant as you, Declan,” Órla chirped from her perch on the table.

“Declan, what the fuck?” Ayden pressed his back against the stone as though one of us might attack him at any moment. “We were just in the woods and now . . . we’re in a cave . . . and that owl justtalkedto me. Lord and Lady, I am finally losing my mind. It’s gone. I’m gone.”

He slumped to the ground, his back against the stone, placing his head in his hands.

I didn’t mean to laugh.

It just slipped out.

“And now you’relaughingat me?” he mumbled from beneath his hands.

I bit my bottom lip.

Órla burst into a giggle that sounded more like an old woman choking on tabac smoke than laughter.

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