Page 96 of Of Blood and Fire
The flames chased after Aric, snapping at his heels, burning the flesh from his legs, playing up his spine, peeling away clothes but not skin.
Kaia was holding true to her promise to make him suffer.
To his credit, he wasn’t screaming, though his pain had to be intense. I suspected he didn’t want to give me the satisfaction. And that, perhaps more than anything, had the deep desire for revenge easing.
Kaia, enough. Kill him.
Need suffer more.
No doubt, but aside from the fact killing him in this manner made me no better than him, I knew my parents wouldn’t want this. Wouldn’t want his suffering, no matter what he had done. I reached into the deadly heart of the heat flowing through me, forced it to envelop his entire body, and killed him between one heartbeat and another.
As his ashes fell silently onto the lake’s oddly blue waters, Kaia withdrew, and I dropped hard onto my knees, my whole body shaking, tears and blood—the latter from the popped mote in my eye—spilling down my cheeks. For several minutes, I did nothing more than suck in air, every breath little more than a deep, shuddering gulp, my arms wrapped around me, rocking back and forth as I fought the pain that encased my body and my head. Fought to remain conscious against the tide of black that was roaring toward me. We still had to get out of here, still had to squeeze through that toothy entrance.
Eventually, the blackness retreated enough for me to raise a hand. Slowly, carefully, I sent a thin stream of fire toward Damon and melted the wire binding his legs to the stone. It was almost the end of me. Or rather, almost the end of consciousness. As the darkness loomed deep and hard, I reached once again for Kaia and stole enough of her strength to remain aware.
Something hard clattered to the stone; my knife, its blade glowing a bloody hue in the warmth of the orb that was somehow still floating above the lake, even if its glow had severely diminished. Then Damon was in front of me, his hands free but his wrists bloody and still wrapped with wire. He pulled me into his arms, into his chest, and held me tightly.
“In Túxn’s name,” he whispered raggedly, “you nigh on gave me a heart attack several times tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry,” I replied, voice even softer—more etched with pain—than his. Not that it mattered; he would hear me even if I didn’t speak. “And sorry about the whole stabbing thing, too.”
He laughed, a weary and yet joyous sound, and pulled back, his gaze searching my face. I wasn’t sure what he saw, but happiness sang through our link. “As long as it’s not a continuing feature of our marriage, wife, I forgive you.”
“Restrain the urge to get captured by revenge-seeking monarchs, husband, and there will not be a continuing need to stab you.”
He smiled and dropped a sweet, gentle kiss on my lips. “How did the mission go?”
“We did what we set out to do but—” I stopped and swallowed against the surge of grief. It didn’t help, and tears flowed anew. “But we lost a drakkon and a rider.”
“Ah, Bryn, I’m so, so sorry.” He drew me back against his body and brushed another kiss across the top of my head. “Who?”
“Hannity and Rua. They didn’t deserve it. They were both so young....”
I trailed off. They were young, yes, but this was war, and war didn’t care about age or life or who deserved death and who did not. It just took.
And it would continue to take until one side was victorious.
That end point was coming... and it was coming at us fast.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
I hadno idea how long it took for Garran and his people to arrive. No idea how long it took us to get back into Esan. I was conscious but only just, and it all passed by in an odd sort of haze. When we finally got back into our room, Damon ordered food and then helped me into the bath, washing me, then washing himself. Awareness, and perhaps a few strands of desire, stirred, but nothing could rise above the tide of utter exhaustion. I ate and drank almost automatically, tasting nothing, wanting nothing more than sleep.
It found me, finally, in Damon’s arms, his body pressed against mine, his warm breath whispering past the back of my neck and ear.
I could have slept for days. I barely got six hours.
The siren clawed sharply through my slumber, and I jerked upright, my heart racing.
One blast.
Two.
Then three.
Instinct had been right, down in those tunnels. Esan was under major attack.
