Page 103 of House of Ydril

The next thing I know, I hear Faust groaning from exertion. My eyes snap in the direction of the sound and I see him standing in the middle of it all, blood running down his eyes from all the effort he has to put in fighting his uncle.

I feel hot rage coursing through my body. What’s enough is enough, I think to myself, I shut my eyes and I tap the Element Rune.

Once I open them, I see fire swallowing the bleachers all around us and drawing everyone into the center of the ring.

Within a minute, all that wood and metal comes crashing to the ground.

I drop to my knees, the sudden silence around me thundering. I see people snapping out of it and Baldor trying to get up off the ground.

My eyes dart to his nephew, who seems to be regaining his control as well, fire burning in his eyes.

The next thing I know, he’s grabbing his uncle by the neck, lifting him up off the ground.

He growls, “I’m going to kill you with my own two hands.”

And as the rest of the crowd watches in silence, he tightens his grip, making his uncle’s face start turning purple.

“Andreas,” he squeezes out, “you know this is right. Just yesterday, you told me to give the Archduke the green light-”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Faust snaps at him, his body vibrating with rage, “that family and duty are just excuses to you for your own ambition. I’m going to enjoy watching the light go out of your eyes.”

“Don’t you dare, boy,” Baldor snarls back, “if you lose me, you loseeverything,family and position,and you know it.”

“I’ve never cared about position and I no longer have a family,” Faust growls, “but at least I’ll have peace of mind knowing I chose to do the right thing.” And with that, he starts tightening the grip.

I push myself off the ground and run to him. “No,” I command, “don’t.”

He turns to look at me. “He tried to kill you, Quinn.”

There’s such pain in his eyes, it makes me go silent for a second.

“I know, but trust me, Andreas,” I finally tell him.

He loosens his grip and lets his uncle’s body fall to the ground. I hear rushed footsteps and angry yelling as the Pied Piper takes control of Baldor, but my eyes are still fixed on his nephew’s. I reach out my hand, but he just turns on his heel and walks away, dropping the Stone onto the bloody ground below.

Chapter forty-two

We’resittinginmyroom, drinking in preparation for the Grand Ball. Nuala is giddy with excitement and I’m wearing the most beautiful dress I’ve ever had the chance to wear, about to be paraded around as one of the two Champions of this year’s Trials.

But how can I feel good about any of it when it’s only been two weeks since it all happened? They’ve treated the wound that was apparently about to kill me, but I’ve got fresh cuts and bruises all over my legs and arms. I’m thrilled for my friend being freshly in love with Harry, but that means that I’ll be attending the Ball by myself,again. And it’s not like I won’t be drawing attention.

Now that everyone knows who my parents were and what happened to them that year when Baldor Faust first tried to get his hands on the Stone, I’m even more popular with the press. It doesn’t help that both the Pied Piper and the Keeper have taken a special interest in me, trying to teach me to improve my magic. Apparently, Creators, that is, faes that can create things out of nothing, not just manipulate the world around them, are hard to come by. And that makes me proud, sure, but it also makes me terrified.

But what’s worst of all is that I still can’t stop thinking abouthim. I wonder if he’s going to come to the Ball at all. He should. If nothing else, to allow them to crown us as winners.

That’s what princes do, right? Show up for stuff like that even if they don’t feel like it? Even if their entire world has just crumbled to the ground?

“Quinn?” my friend calls out, snapping me out of my ruminations and making me look at her. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I’m sure it goes against your promise.”

Ah. My promise to have fun tonight, yes. I give her a weak smile. “Nuala,” I start in a low voice, “do you think I should talk to her after all?”

“I support you whatever you decide,” she replies with determination in her eyes.

I let out a chuckle. “I know, but what do you really think?”

“I think you should talk to her, yes,” she rushes to say. She’s obviously been wanting to. “She’s your sister, after all.”

I think for a second. “Would you mind leaving the two of us alone then?”

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