Page 143 of Cursed Dreams
The priestesses nearby stilled, watching with wide eyes, confused murmurs passing between them.
Thalia couldn’t speak. Her mind reeled. What had happened? Why was Marand not taking the chance to escape from him ? She had to get to her friend.
Vaelith’s voice rang out over the courtyard, firm but not unkind. “Thalia. Come speak to me. Please.”
His gaze usually guarded, unreadable held something raw now. Something that pierced right through her ribs and into the pit of her heart.
“You know I’ve never hurt you,” he added, taking another slow step closer. “And that’s not my intent now.”
“Dragon lies!” one of the priestesses snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. She knew that cruel voice, Merryweather, she watched in horror as the old woman stepped forward, fury in her eyes, her hand already crackling with unrestrained power.
Thalia’s breath stilled in her lungs. She looked to Vaelith, then to Marand, who stood silent beside him, troubled, unsure, her fists clenched at her sides. Thalia’s thoughts raced. Her gut churned.
Vaelith had never harmed her. Not once. Even when furious, he’d restrained himself, pulled back. Even when his eyes had glowed molten and his magic had trembled in the air like a storm about to break, he had never crossed that line. She knew he was dangerous, and she was afraid of him. Aric’s words of warning rang in her ears, yet for some unknown reason she believed he wouldn’t hurt her. Indecision swirled in her mind, maybe if she walked over to him, she could distract him enough to get Marand away. But then what?
He took another step forward, ignoring the hiss of warning from the old priestess at the gate. “There are things you don’t know. Things youneedto know, Thalia.”
Thalia stepped forward, decision made.
Nyla’s fingers clamp around her arm like iron. “Don’t,” Nyla hissed. “Don’t you dare.”
“Marand” was Thalia’s only pleading reply.
“She needs to know the truth!” Vaelith growled, frustrated, his voice echoing like thunder.
“The high fae will return!” another priestess shouted from the line forming behind the gates. Her eyes burned with zealotry. “They will return andliberateus from your cursed kind!”
Marand moved, leaning close to Vaelith, whispering something too low to hear. Vaelith’s jaw ticked as he gave her a tight nod. Marand turned and began walking slowly toward Thalia.
The scream tore through the air, followed by a blinding flash of golden light.
Thalia didn’t even have time to react before the courtyard erupted. Magic struck like lightning, fast and brutal. Vaelith spun, cloak flaring as he swept an arc of shadow across the space before him. The blast collided with his barrier and ricocheted, exploding against the nearest wall. Stone shattered, dust and rubble raining down around them.
“Stop!” Thalia shouted, stumbling forward.
No one listened.
The priestesses moved as one, their spells surging through the air like a living storm. Light magic blazed toward Vaelith in great arcing lashes, but he didn’t falter. Shadows unfurled from his palms, thick as smoke and sharp as blades, intercepting each bolt with precision. Not once did he strike out to kill—but he didn’t hesitate to neutralize.
The ground cracked open beneath his feet. One priestess slammed her hand into the stone, sending jagged spikes of earth thrusting up toward him. Vaelith leapt clear in a blur of movement, shadows coiling beneath him like wings.
Another priestess, younger and cloaked in blue, summoned a torrent of water that shot through the air in sharp, twisting tendrils. Vaelith’s cloak snapped as he spun, his shadows wrapping around the jets and forcing them back into mist with a hiss.
Air shrieked overhead as gusts whipped toward him, blades of wind spinning like thrown daggers. He ducked low, rolling forward, then surged up, grabbing one priestess’s wrist and flipping her to the ground in one fluid motion. She landed hard but conscious, her weapon skidding away.
Merryweather’s voice cracked like a whip, summoning thick vines from the ground, thorned and writhing. They lashed toward Vaelith with terrifying speed, wrapping like serpents. For a moment, they caught, tight around his arm, his waist.
Thalia cried out as more priestesses surged forward. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!”
Her plea was drowned in the roar of another spell. Fire and lightning now, lashing the air. Vaelith bared his teeth and snarled, not in pain, but fury. With a violent surge of shadow, he exploded free of the vines, shoving Merryweather’s magic back with a sound like cracking stone.
Still, he didn’t attack them. His shadows moved with purpose, snaring wrists, diverting spells, binding ankles just long enough to disarm. Never once did he aim to harm beyond what was necessary.
Thalia tried to run forward, toward Marand, who had been thrown to the ground in the first explosion, but a wall of air magic surged in her path, knocking her back. Nyla grabbed her arm. “We can’t get through!”
Thalia’s heart thundered in her chest. Marand lay motionless, barely ten paces away, her dark hair streaked with blood. Cellen was yelling, trying to push through, but another spell swept past, scattering them back.
She couldn’t breathe. Every part of her screamed to reach her friend, to stop the fight, to make it allstop.
