Page 95 of Ruled By Magic

Shouts from behind, and wild blasts of magic exploded. I glanced over my shoulder. Garron had a shield up, three henchmen firing at it. Their shots looked weak, dissolving without shaking the barrier. It must take energy to control the devices holding Leo’s magic.

The prince raised a hand. Purple light erupted from him, blazing toward Leo.

Leo flung up a small shield, deflecting the blast. Not his usual display of power. Could he fight Adante like this? A shout from behind. I whirled to see Garron drop his shield long enough to shoot more energy at a second henchman. The man dropped his device, threw up his hands, and shielded.

As the device hit the floor, Leo roared in triumph. A blue dome sprang up, encasing Garron and me. Blue fire cascaded around Leo, and he let go a shock wave of pure energy. It rolled over our shelter, blasting outwards like liquid flame. The air vibrated, set my ears ringing. Heat battered the shield, warming my face. I blinked against the dazzling light.

When the spots cleared, the last two henchmen were down, their bodies burned and twisted. I looked away. A small purple dome covered Adante. The next moment, he vanished.

Our shield dropped.

“Fuck!” Garron glared at Leo. “All I’ve been hearing is how strong you are. I thought you’d kill him.”

Leo ignored him and pulled me into a hug. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

I took a shuddering breath, all my pent-up terror threatening to break loose. No. Not yet. I clung to Leo a moment longer, inhaling the welcome scent of him. Zantus, I thought he’d never hold me again. I examined his face. Drawn, blue circles under his eyes, but unharmed. “I’m okay. He didn’t do anything. I hurt my hand.”

Leo wrapped his jacket around my shoulders, and we examined my palm. Bleeding, but slowly. He grabbed a towel from behind the bar and tied it over the wound. “That’ll work until we find a doctor.”

“If you’re quite finished,”—Garron’s voice was hard, sarcastic—“this is a fucking mess. There’s no time. He planned to kill the king. Tonight! A doctor is going to make it look natural. You know where the king’s chambers are?”

Leo nodded.

“Meet me there.”

The man disappeared. We stared at the space he’d just occupied.

“Do you know who he is?” asked Leo.

I shook my head. “Adante called him Garron. He seems to be helping us, anyway.”

Leo frowned, took my uninjured hand, and we vanished.

We appeared in the corridor outside the king’s rooms. My body ached all over, and my head pounded. Aftereffects of the poison and cold exposure. I needed water to soothe my parched throat, and to sleep for about a week.

Leo was in worse shape than me. Disheveled, face white, movements slow. Though he hid it, he must be in pain. He stood straight, but his hand trembled in my grip.

Garron waited for us outside the king’s rooms. No guards flanked the door. Unease trickled through me. That couldn’t be right.

Garron placed a hand on the doorknob. “Wait,” said Leo. “I’m grateful for your help—you saved my life—but who are you?”

He turned with an impatient frown. “Garron. I’ve served Adante for years, but he’s a cruel bastard. There was no one to challenge him, till you. But you didn’t kill him, and now we’re fucked if we can’t get the king on our side. Come on.”

He pulled a small black cylinder from his tunic and held it to the doorknob, concentrating. The catch released, and the door swung open. “A bit of tech Adante kept all to himself. I borrowed it,” he said to Leo’s questioning look.

We entered. The small throne room was deserted. Glowing lights on the ceiling gave enough illumination to navigate. More magic. Garron led us down a side corridor to a door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Let me do the talking.”

I felt like a thief creeping through a strange house in the dark. What guarantee did we have that Garron was trying to help? He’d poisoned me. He was working against Adante, sure, but that didn’t mean he was working for us. What if he wanted to kill the king himself and blame Leo? Help someone else take the throne? A shiver ran through me. I was too exhausted, too sick from poison and terror to cope with any more intrigue.

Garron pushed the door open. The odor of sweat tinged with alcohol hit me. Would we be able to rouse the king? The room resembled our accommodation in the palace but far more opulent, the bed a carved four-poster behemoth with pillars supporting a draped canopy. A bedside lamp still burned bright.

“Your Majesty?”

Garron pulled back the curtain. Sleeping, the king looked frail, older than seventy. His thinning hair splayed across the pillow and his lined face was peaceful. Very peaceful. Fear froze my breath. Were we too late?

“Your Majesty!” Garron spoke louder, voice sharp. He shook the king’s shoulder.

The king’s eyes flew open, shock twisting his features. He jerked back and a blue shield—the same color as Leo’s—shot up around him. He scrambled to sit.

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