Page 66 of The Maleficent Faerie
When the arrows were spread out, targeting anything they could reach, fighting them off was easier. But now they’re all aiming for her. So many of them, streaking toward us.
I clutch Aura to my chest and bolt sideways, barely avoiding two more arrows, which immediately turn to follow me. My wings flay the wind as I streak across the sky, faster than I’ve ever flown in my life. The rolls, spins, and dives that I usually do to show off are far more vital now, and I add bursts of magic to enhance my speed and agility.
My men are roaring below us, bellowing their rage and fear. Ember manages to target a couple of the arrows and incinerate them, but he nearly singes my wing with a fireball, and after that he stops trying to help for fear of making it worse. I’m barely tracking my men—I’m moving too fast for that—but I think they’re heading for the hill, aiming to take down the final caster and the archers.
The earlier volleys targeted everyone but the Princess. And now that the ambush has failed, this group of Caennith is tasked with eliminating her.
She’s clinging to me quietly, gripping my body with her arms and legs so I can have one hand free for magic. I send pulses of green light at the arrows, destroying several, but more are coming, and they’re too quick, too agile—
Thump.
A pinching pain at the top of my spine, right at the junction of my neck and my shoulders. I swerved to avoid one arrow, and another lodged in my back.
The initial pinch explodes into savage agony. I convulse with the force of it, barely able to hold onto Aura.
I can’t stay aloft like this. I’ll drop her. She’ll be smashed on the hillside.
Shuddering with pain, I let myself fall, holding her close as we plummet to earth. I flare my wings at the last moment, but the landing is clumsy—Aura falls backward from my arms and crashes onto her back in the short, weedy grass.
My magic is stalled by the influx of the toxin. I struggle to access it, but all I can do is groan and shudder. A glance over my shoulder reveals more arrows tracing tails of rainbow fire across the sky, headed for us. My knights haven’t taken down our attackers yet. They need more time. I have to protect Aura a little longer.
My jaw locks in place, fused by the invasive magic. I can’t speak, but I manage to lean forward stiffly on my knees, and plant my fists on either side of Aura’s head. I curl my wings around her. It’s the best shield I can manage—my wings and my body, forming a protective dome over her body.
For the fate of the realm, I must protect her.
It’s a game I can’t win. If she dies, I lose the blood I need for the ritual. And if I die in her place, there will be no one to work the great spell to save our realm.
But this is no longer about the fate of the realm—not entirely. If only one of us can survive, I want it to be her. Not for any logical reason—simply because her existence is paramount. It is all that matters.
25
I lie beneath Malec, staring in horror at the rigid paralysis of his features, at the toxic branches of light crawling over his shoulders from the arrow in his spine.
He’s braced over me, his wings and body forming a domed barrier. Every time another arrow hits him, he shudders, and his eyes brighten with pain.
An arrow pierces his wing—I can see the tip of it. It’s struggling to get all the way through the flesh and feathers, wriggling in an effort to break free and reach me. Then it halts, and more virulent light stabs outward from its tip, spreading over Malec’s wing.
I’ve never seen these arrows at work, but I’ve heard of them. In the hands of certain Fae, they are the rarest and deadliest weapons my people own. I never thought they would be used against me.
Another thump of an arrow’s impact. Another jerk of Malec’s body.
He doesn’t have a sword that I can see, only a dagger, and he vanished his staff. There’s no weapon I can use to help him.
I could wriggle out of the shelter of the feathered dome—but I’d be shot through the heart by a seeker arrow the moment I emerged. How would that help him, or anyone?
Still, I can’t lie here and watch him die. Why is he doing this? He’s the only one who can perform the spell to save Midunnel—
Shit, have I actually started to believe in him? To trust that he can save us?
“This is stupid, Malec,” I gasp. “You’ll die. Give me to them.”
But it’s too late. Too late to parlay, to bargain, to make a deal. Too late for both of us.
“Use your magic,” I plead, but his beautiful face is stony, his eyes beacons of anguish. I don’t think he can move anymore, except to shudder as arrow after arrow plunges between the seams of his armor.
All I can do is lie helpless, in the shadow of his wings, while he takes the death that was meant for me.
I begin to sob, each heaving breath jolting my body. He’s dying. He’sdying, and I can’t stop it. I can’t pull the arrows out of him from this position, but if they stay in his body much longer, he can’t possibly heal from this. He’s going to die right here, right now, and I have to watch it, and Ican’t.I can’t bear it.
