Page 9 of Fae Champion

“What’s happening?” I asked him.

His head perfectly still, he grunted. “Not even I know. These elements should never be combined all at once like this. You’ve unleashed a reaction I can’t halt until its run its course. We’ll need the fortune of dragons to survive the next several minutes.”

The guards surrounding us heard him and attempted to back away slowly, as if the magic unfolding were a vicious beast they shouldn’t startle.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Braque told them. “It won’t let you escape.”

A couple of the guards farthest back spun and ran.

The smoky mist closest to them turned black and lunged for them with the speed of an adder.

When it was upon them, the smoke bifurcated, wrapping around their ankles and tugging them downward. The men crashed to the ground and instantly turned onto their stomachs, clawing at the field, tearing up flowers, the mist dragging them toward the location of the broken glass, where the earth was spreading open, swirling.

It swallowed Braque’s bag and the debris with ease—pulled one guard in, then the other.

With a wet squelching, both men vanished.

The others stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.

Azariah, far enough away from the vortex, walked backward, never taking his eyes from the widening pit, and seemed to escape the magic’s notice.

Good. At least the majestic creature would be free of whatever I’d done.

The hole gaped and grew, whining now as it whirled more swiftly, gaining strength and momentum.

“Seize her. Stop her,” the queen yelled from the safety of the balcony.

Not even Braque obeyed.

Stare affixed on the spreading chasm, another of the guards whispered, “May our memories live forever. May our essences voyage to the Etherlands.”

Some with shaky voices, others appearing numb to the inevitability of their unanticipated fates, the remaining guards parroted his sentiment.

“Brothers,” continued the same guard, “I’d say it’s been an honor to have served with you, but now … as I contemplate my death … there hasn’t been honor in much of what we’ve done. We’ve served a false queen, too dark for the true magic of the mirror world.”

Despite the circumstances, Braque gasped in borrowed offense, and that disembodied ear appeared from out of sight, racing toward the guard. But its mass was too slight compared to the rest of us, and the tornado within the earth sucked it into its maw, where it disappeared.

“Traitor. You shouldn’t say such things,” Braque hissed.

The guard, whose expression was old despite the youth of his features, met the alchemist’s glower. “It’s the truth. She’s foul, and so are you. I haven’t been able to speak my mind for all of my life. I’ve been forced into service, made to harm those that, as Lady Elowyn here pointed out, the queen should’ve protected. I’ve been made to be as dark as she is, and I won’t take that with me to my death. At the very least, these final moments’ll bemine, and I’ll speakmytruth.”

Braque jerked his gaze up to the stands. But though every set of eyes was on us, I doubted a single fae could hear what the man said. The whirling was growing louder, deeper, spreading beneath the ground. A tempest with a roar—and bite.

Despite the fates of the previous pair, another of the guards tried to retreat.

The swirling somehow sensed his intentions, forthe man took no more than one step when the misty vines surged toward him, wrapping both his legs, and yanked him into the expanding pit.

Even I gulped this time.

The guard speaking his mind stared down into the vortex, nodding his resolve before looking up at me. “Lady Elowyn, you’ve got royal blood. If you survive this”—he gestured to the hole that was now sucking in grass and flowers by the greedy mouthfuls—“do whatever you can to be the next female heir, whatever it takes. The mirror worldneeds you. The darkness of Embermere is spreading to all parts of our world. In every clan there are those who seek a better way for our kind.”

His eyes were resigned to his fate, pleading with me. “If you do it, then our deaths will’ve been worthwhile. She can’t keep ruling. She’ll ruin everything that makes us who we are. Every day she’s on the throne takes us farther away from the ways of Faerie.” He smiled morosely. “We need you.”

“He’s right,” one of the others chimed in. This man was older, his faced lined in parts. “The mirror world’s nothing like it used to be. Her darkness is killing us.”

“Ingrates. Traitors,” Braque scolded. “You should be kissing your queen’s feet, not?—”

“You do enough of that for the lot of us,” the first guard said. “And if you survive this, I’m sure you’ll continue.”

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