Page 74 of The Sundered Blade

“No, Leisa. Please…” But his agonized plea was lost in the icy tones of Modrevin’s voice.

“So, it seems a mirror mage still lives among the degenerate people of this land.” The king’s eyes glittered with malice. “Thankfully, that is easily remedied. You, my child, can die as swiftly as all the others, and by the same hand.”

His voice raised in a whip-crack of command. “Raven, kill her.”

“What…” Leisa’s disbelieving exclamation was cut off when Kyrion lunged forward.

Her reaction was barely fast enough, but somehow she ducked under his swing, drew her dagger, and parried when he struck with a knife pulled from beneath his tunic.

“What are youdoing?”

“Leisa,please, I cannot stop. We arestill linked!”

Vaniell saw the moment when horrified understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by an icy wave of rage. She threw a quick glance at Modrevin, then back at Kyrion.

“We can beat this,” she snarled. “I won’t let him have you. Never again, do you understand?”

“I’m fighting it, love, but if he forces me to kill you…” Pure anguish drew lines of pain on the night elf’s face. “I cannot survive that. Icannot!”

Leisa shook her head, dropping to the floor to evade his next strike with fierce concentration on her face.

“I won’t allow it. Do you hear me, Kyrion? You are mine, and I will never stop fighting for you!”

He struck again, not as swift or as fluid as usual, but still incredibly fast for a human, knocking Leisa’s mirror from her hand and then screaming with agony when his blade kissed her skin and raised a thin line of blood.

“Please,” he panted, hand clenching around the hilt of his dagger. “Go! Don’t make me hurt you. Don’t make me bear this pain. I cannot carry the weight of your death. It will crush me!”

It was the desperate strength of his plea that finally broke through Vaniell’s self-hatred long enough for him to act.

“Unger!”

The tall, red-clad steward straightened and bowed, an incongruous courtesy in the midst of violence. “How may I serve you, Your Highness?”

“Get everyone away from here,” Vaniell commanded sharply. “You’ll be safest in the dungeons, but whatever you do, just take them andgo!”

The steward did not waste time with further obeisance, but jolted into action, moving hastily towards the door and urging the crowd of servants to follow.

It took little encouragement. Within moments, the room was clear of all but Vaniell, Modrevin, and the still-raging battle between Leisa and Kyrion.

Neither willing to hurt the other. Neither willing to give up. Both gasping for breath, bleeding from tiny cuts, and bearing the true anguish of their struggle on their faces. There was no way to hide the love that drove them, held them back, tormented them, and yet somehow still gave them strength.

But at last Kyrion fell to his knees.

“Leisa,” he panted. “Please. We have no choice. You must ensure that I cannot hurt anyone else. I can hold him off for a moment or two. Long enough for you to…” He choked on the words, and Leisa cut him off with a furious oath.

“How dare you even suggest such a thing, youbastard?” Leisa spat the words through her tears, then flung her dagger away.

It landed on the polished floor and slid, coming to rest against the steps at the foot of the dais.

Where Modrevin stood and laughed. Wearing the face of the man Vaniell had once called Father. He laughed and laughed until he looked at Vaniell and paused long enough to speak.

“How does it feel to know that your many years of rebellion have come to this? Garimore will fall to ruin, your mother and brother will both end up dying by my hand, and you must now watch your friends fight one another to the death. And in the end, I will still have won, and it is all thanks… toyou.”

All thanks to Vaniell. Despite all of his magic, all of his scheming, all of his efforts to save his kingdom…

None of it had been enough to defeat the enemy lurking at Garimore’s heart.

He’d told Kyrion that this man was the only father he’d known. That his memories of Melger were somehow tied to Modrevin, and they had always made him hesitate. What sort of monster would he become if he struck down his own father?

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