Page 179 of The Last One
A spell for life, away from death.
She is the darkness, she’s also dawn
At the time when bad things spawn.
Upon the fields where courage fades,
She refuses passion’s blades.
Ducking love as she chooses flame,
She saved her own. They praise her name.
Above the fray, where glory stands,
This conqueror, goodness planned.
Water now pure and fertile earth,
The simple choice of choosing worth.
Beneath the flag of courage high,
She resurrects, touching sky.
Writing odes and radiant songs,
She declares wins of battles long.
Verdant realms where this goddess rules,
She absolutely suffers fools,
Hoping they change erring ways,
She triumphs in these final frays.
55
And now I know why Jadon was so concerned about the fire I set outside of Caerno Woods: he was terrified that I’d burned his brother alive.
His brother, the prince.
The sitting room bursts into commotion as Jadon lunges at Gileon. The fresh-faced soldier closest to us draws his sword, ready to sever Jadon’s hand from Gileon’s neck with one fierce swoop. That same soldier fails to see me as a threat…not until I jab his windpipe, kick the sword out of his hand, and lock the tyke’s elbow with both my hands.
“Settle down, young knight,” I caution him. “A warning: I’m anxious to complete this move. Joint locks are my favorite.”
He whispers, “Please don’t, Lady.” Tears shine bright in the soldier’s brown eyes but fear shines brighter. “I praise your name.”
“It’s Lady now?” I whisper. “Now that you’re moments away from death, you, all of a sudden, recognize me? Now you, all of a sudden, want to believe in me?”
By now, the other soldiers around the room have drawn their swords and are bustling forward to remove Jadon’s hands from Prince Gileon’s neck. One soldier, a man with a dimpled chin, grabs Jadon’s shoulder and lifts his dagger.
“Don’t, Athard,” the prince gasps with strain on his face. “Don’t touch him.”
Athard either doesn’t hear Gileon’s command or hears and ignores it. He grabs Jadon’s hair, yanks back his head, lifts his dagger, and prepares to slide its blade across Jadon’s neck.
I shout, “Stop!” and use my free hand to send a small ball of wind, knocking the knife out of Athard’s hand.
