Page 9 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

Something inside me whispered encouragement, a magic I’d never felt before stirring at last. It gave methe confidence to stand straighter—even when Heliconia sent tendrils of power toward me.

Shadows—nothing more.

And still, it took everything I had not to react as they poked and prodded at my ankles, snaking up my legs.

When I refused to cower, she smiled that catlike smile again.

With a battle cry, Sonoma swung out her sword, cutting through the shadows until they broke apart.

“If you touch her,” Sonoma snarled, “I won’t wait until you decide to march to these gates. I will come and slaughter you myself.”

Heliconia’s eyes narrowed.

I gripped my sword, ready for an attack.

“Your fear is unbecoming,” Heliconia snapped at Sonoma. She whipped her gaze to me. “If you want a fight, you shall have it. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

Her face vanished, replaced once again by the Obsidian’s. His form solidified—I knew it somehow in my bones, thanks to whatever strange, new magic surged through my veins.

Sonoma knew it too.

She whirled, racing around with her sword already swinging.

The creature managed a single step in my direction before it lurched forward awkwardly, arching its back. Its mouth opened in what promised to be a scream but came out as a gargling hiss. Blood leaked from its open mouth before it fell, shoved face-first into the dirt by the force of Sonoma ripping her blade free from its back.

She hadn’t even bothered to let me fight it.

The creature moaned, the sound rattling and wet as it rolled onto its back and stared up at the sky. That strange call in my own blood returned as I looked down at it.

Magic whispered, sinking beneath my skin.

A forbidden song in my veins.

I couldn’t look away.

More blood leaked from the Obsidian, and I found myself fisting my hand to keep from reaching out and touching the liquid that pulsed with the creature’s ebbing life force.

“Aurelia.” Sonoma’s voice held a question—and a warning.

“I can feel it,” I murmured, stepping closer to the fallen monster.

The creature’s head jerked up, its once-fierce eyes now glazed with terror as if it could sense the end. Its lips curled in a silent snarl, more black blood bubbling up through its mouth.

I knelt beside it, my boots squishing in the wetness.

Sonoma’s words cut through the stillness. “Aurelia, don’t.”

But I couldn’t stop.

The magic rose inside me, dark tendrils of power curling through my body like smoke. My hand extended, my fingers trembling.

The dying creature’s life force unraveled before my eyes—twisting, writhing tendrils of magic lifted from its body, drawn toward me. The energy surged into my outstretched hand, a dark and intoxicating force that burned as it entered.

The creature screamed—its final sound a haunting echo—before it fell limp, collapsing into itself as if drained of every last drop of vitality.

My pulse thundered in my ears.

The magic was cold, searing through my veins, but beneath the chill, there was something else—something alive. Not summer’s warmth. Not light or heat or any of the things a Summer fae princess should possess. It was power born of death, drawn from the last remnants of a dying thing.

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