Page 127 of Of Rime and Ruin
His emotions slam into me: jealousy. Anger. Hate. For a moment, he locks his gaze on mine, and I hear his voice ring in my head:No one touches you, Sunfish. Are you hurt?
I shake my head. This has all gone terribly wrong.
He will pay, all the same,he says.
The Beast lifts his paw, claws glinting wet, and aims for the guard’s face. Before I can stop him, before I can scream, a burst of golden light flashes across the shore. Glowing tendrils wrap around the Beast’s body, wrenching him away from the pinned guard.
Aethan writhes in the magical grip, but he can’t break free. The light plunges beneath his skin and weaves until it graspsevery inch of him. He’s dragged through the stones. Feet kicking. Snarling. I turn, following the line of light to its origin.
Lucas stands in the open gate, hands outstretched, singing. His eyes illuminate with matching golden light.
Relief hits me like a punch in the gut. Finally, someone who can help. Lucas will guide Aethan through this and calm him down enough to function again. He will heal the guards, attend to the dead.
“There’s a dead body down there, Lucas. And a wounded guard. Can you do something?”
The healer swivels his gaze to me, and he smirks. “If you’re going to leave, Princess, now’s the time to do it.”
Aethan scrambles in the grip of Lucas’s magic, collapsing at the healer’s feet. Lucas frowns at him. “My, my,” he says. “You can imagine my disappointment when you didn’t show up to our session tonight, Your Majesty. Pity. You could have prevented this.”
Then he raises his fist and knocks the king out cold.
Chapter fifty-two
Aethan
“Begone,darkspirit!Inthe goddess’s name, I cast you out!” Lucas barks.
My surroundings come together in pieces: the frostcat glaring. The dim light of a fire. A tidy desk. I’m sitting in Lucas’s office.
The sting of magic courses through my body, and I flinch against leather restraints. My hands are bound to the arms of a chair. Dark scales recede from my wrists, evidence of the Beast relinquishing his control over my body.
How the hell did I get here? Only the past few minutes elude my memory this time. I remember every detail before that—Nahla’s request, our kiss, Orson’s body, and the rage. Guards touching her. A guard putting his hands on my Sunfish. I was going to hurt him. My rage burned so hot I wanted to rip the world apart, but then Lucas appeared, and everything went black.
I search the room wildly, looking for the healer. He stands out of my reach, eyes glowing with the light of his spell. In his shadow, with her knees tucked to her chest on the floor, is Nahla.
Nahla?
My stomach somersaults. This isn’t right. Her panicked gaze pierces me as I drink in the sight of her. She widens her eyes and shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her beautiful dress is torn. A cord of golden light wraps around her head and slips between her lips; another cord wraps around her wrists—Lucas’s magic, holding her hostage.
I narrow my eyes. He’s gagged her.He’s touching her.She grimaces and twitches, shrinking away from the brush of his spell. What the fuck is the meaning of this?
“Release her!” I bellow.
Rage returns with a vengeance. My veins swell, ice surging to the extremities of my body. The Beast bursts through his cage, ravenous for justice, and our minds fuse, forming one thought only:Nahla isn’t safe.
I thrash against the restraints and roar. I fight Lucas’s spell with mind and body as the magic sears through me—as it caresses her—as if I could absorb all the fear and set her free.
The healer chuckles from the shadows. “Good,” he croons through the tune of his Voice. “You want to protect her? Come out and fight me, Beast.”
A twist of pain, sharp behind my eye.Fuck.I throw my head back. Howling. Panting. Sweat slicks my skin. Nahla screams and snaps her head, clenching her teeth as she faces the ceiling. Ice curdles my blood.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Lucas clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Oh, but she’s being sohelpful. Aren’t you, Princess? You like to be helpful.” A golden tendril splits apart to stroke the length of her throat. Reverently. Seductively.
Mine, roars the Beast.
She struggles against the gag and moans. The sound of her struggle cuts straight to my heart. The Beast fills my limbs, lending me strength. With a flex of muscle, I pull out of the chair, cracking it in half as I rise.
