Page 77 of Enslaved

I don’t know. I don’t know what’s come over me. That blast wasn’t like any power I’ve ever before encountered. Not fire, wind, water. Not magic. It’s something much deeper than any of these, beyond even the force of thequinsatra.

Ivor whirls abruptly, marches across the room to a display of weaponry on the wall. He grabs a sword, yanks it free. Then once more he bears down on me, teeth flashing sharp. All other thoughts and feelings vanishing in the face of absolute panic. I back away then whirl and rush to the door, struggling to turn the knob.

Ivor grabs the back of my gown. Whirls me around, slams me against the wall. “You aremine,”he says, his sword gleaming in the tail of my eye. “You belong to me. Of your own free will you entered this chamber. Remember that!”

He bows his face over mine. I turn so that his lips catch my cheek. He snarls, teeth scraping against my chin. That strangling grip on my throat shifts to my jaw, turning me toward him, holding me painfully. His mouth hovers just over mine.

“You want me,” he breathes. “You desire me. You long for my kiss.” Glamours pour off him, rippling like waves. It’s so thick, I can almost see the magic, red and raw. “Give me what I need.” He leans in, closer, closer. “Give me everything.”

Then his lips press hard against mine. I’m numb under the force of his glamours, stunned, immobile.

An ear-splitting crash.

A rain of shattered glass.

A cyclone of white feathers.

I scream, and Ivor pulls away just as the white wyvern crashes into the center of the gold bed. The great beast raises its head, feathers flared, and snarls. I scarcely see it, however.

My gaze fixes instead upon the Prince.

He springs from the wyvern’s back, lands in a crouch. His head yanks up, eyes flashing like wildfire. Magic and power ripple in the atmosphere around him, building up in terrible pressure. He rises. His head is low, his shoulders hunched.

He speaks in a voice of absolute darkness:“Take your filthy hands off her.”

Ivor’s grip on my face tightens. He raises his sword. “I’ll do what I like with my own—”

The Prince lunges. Ivor’s blade whistles through the air just above his head as he ducks. Faster than thought, he grips Ivor’s arm and wrenches sharply. Ivor utters a small gasp.

The next moment, the Prince has him by the belt and the hair atop his head. That strange, otherworldly power coursing through him, burning the air around him, he physically wrenches the fae lord off his feet, hurls him across the room.

Ivor crashes hard into the far wall. But he rolls, springs to his feet. Though he dropped his sword, he pulls a knife from somewhere on his person. With a feral snarl, he prepares to spring into attack. Then freezes.

The Prince stands before him, tall and terrible. His fingers move in the air even as his mouth mutters strange words. Magic drawn straight from thequinsatrawarps and moves in the air around him, gathering thickly in his palm.

I stare, momentarily too stunned to react. Then, with a gasp I realize—he’s reciting a written spell. Activating its latent power. If he hurls that blast, he will expend a huge amount of human magic and . . . and . . .

“No!”I throw myself in front of the Prince, between him and Ivor, both hands upraised. “No, don’t!Please!”

The Prince’s eyes are dark, frenzied. At first I fear he cannot see me. When at last his gaze meets mine, the expression there frightens me to the core. But I don’t flinch.

Behind me, Ivor chuckles. “You see, Prince?” His voice is an ugly sneer. “She’s mine. You sold her to me, and the binding cannot be undone. My Obligate will die for me.”

“She’ll never be yours,” the Prince snarls. He begins to raise his shining hands again.

With a strangled cry, I stagger forward, grip both those hands in mine. The heat of magic burns, but I won’t let go. “Please!” I cry. “Don’t’ be stupid!” Tears pour down my cheeks, unchecked. “Don’t . . . don’t . . .”

He cannot speak, cannot answer. His wrath is too hot, too wild and potent. He wrenches free of me, begins to draw back one arm, prepared to hurl his blast.

“Go on!” Ivor taunts and holds his arms out wide. “Try it. See if you have the power to take me down. We all know what will happen if you do.”

I grab the Prince’s arm then reach up and catch his cheek, struggling to pull his face around, to force him to look at me. “It’s not worth it.I’mnot worth it. Don’t throw your life away for me. Please, please! I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

I’m sobbing, babbling, incoherent. The Prince is like stone and fire and impenetrable ice all at the same time. His nostrils flare. I could almost swear I see smoke curling on his breath.

Ivor laughs again. “You cannot free her, Castien. You sold her to me, and I will never let her go. She’s mine. You’ve lost.

The Prince’s teeth flash. “You cannot have her.”

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