Page 75 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

“I don’t need a trial to exile you.” She glowed like an ancient goddess, and he was, not for the first time, reluctantly impressed by her.

“Thenexileme. Don’t kill me.” Urian felt the remaining manacle fall free. A flicker of a thought that he could overcome her rolled through him, but the fact was that he didn’t truly want that. He’d hoped to frighten her, to intimidate her, but that clearly hadn’t worked.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “you’re a hell of a queen. I think my mother would’ve liked you. You’re more like her than Moira was, more than Elena in ways . . .”

The Summer Queen stepped back. She stared at him for several moments. “Run, damn it. Stay away from me and mine. Stay away from Seth, from Leslie and Niall. Consider yourself exiled, uncle.”

“No love for my father on that list?” Urian said lightly.

She laughed. “He’s out there to rescue you.” She pointed to the doorway, and he could hear the ruckus outside. “I hate to tell you, but your father is about to have more to worry about than you. . .”

Urian stood staring at her.

“Go before you can’t.” Aislinn knocked out the wall beside him with a gesture.

Definitely not weak.

“Aren’t youtheirqueen?”

She gave him a sad smile. “In case you missed the ice, Winter is here. And the Dark decided to make sure they weren’t missing a fight. They’re both here. Three courts want your blood right now, uncle. Two of them won’t listen to me, and I’m not foolish enough to fight them when I can simply set you free.”

“I have no words,” Urian said, surprised by her candor and the risk she was taking for him. That was what family was.

Then she gave him a hard shove toward the makeshift door and ordered, “Run. Don’t come back.”

ChapterThirty-Four

Katherine

In the distance, she saw Urian—bloody and fighting off what looked like an oversized crocodile.

“It’s just a steed,” Callisto said, shoving a giant sword into Katherine’s hands. “You can use this?”

“Yeah.” She took it and started toward him, swinging it in wide arcs with each step.

The montante was a two-handed sword, but longer than the standard longsword. It wasn’t quite as awkward to handle as the poleax, but it wasn’t a favorite for her. When her mother insisted that Katherine use what was, in essence, spear-clearing sword, Katherine had scoffed. Some day she’d ask more questions about everything her father had told her mother. The preparation that Octavia had given her daughter couldn’t be accidental.

“Fuck.” Katherine swung the montante sword in a figure-eight pattern that had been awful to learn. She wasn’t really tall enough for it, but she was grateful for it in that moment.

To the side, she saw Irial and another man fighting. “Ani? He needs help.”

The fierce faery woman laughed as she stabbed a thorn-covered faery in the thigh. She looked toward Urian’s father and yelled back, “Nah. That’s his worse half. Nothing to be done but stay out of their way.”

Katherine wasn’t sure she was made for this world.

Irial was on the ground now, and she winced at the other faery slammed what looked like a mallet made of shadows at his leg. Despite everything, she couldn’t imagine that he was going to survive.

Then Irial launched himself from the ground like a wave of darkness was propelling him upward. He landed on the other man and wrestled him to the ground. No one went near them. In fact, it was the only vacant part of the now destroyed landscape.

She looked away and ran toward Urian, grateful for the path that Ani’s wolves were clearing for her now.

The other faery woman’s laughter rang through the yells, and somewhere in the mess of violence, Katherine realized that the Hounds were launching faeries toward Ani like a twisted hockey match.

Then Katherine was somehow already beside Urian. He was bleeding, burned, possibly frost-burned, too. And he looked like he’d topple before long, but he was fighting with a fervor that made her wonder if she was the odd one. Nothing about this seemed like a cause for laughter—but then she realized that he wasn’t laughing like Ani.

“Uri!”

He fought his way to her, and then almost as soon as they were side-by-side, they were plucked out of the mass of fighters by what she could best describe as a gryphon. Two clawed feet snatched them up like an eagle plucking a fish from the sea.

---