Page 118 of Bound to the Fae King

Not despite.Becauseof me.

He created this to keep me away, the one thing he knew would make me halt in my tracks, just like I did. Part of me hates him for it. Part of me admires the reckless fool.

“Stop this,” I yell into the twister, though it’s a vain hope to believe my words can reach him through this gale. “I’m free!”

A deep groan reaches me over the gusting winds.

I turn toward the sound to find Galen down on one knee, blood soaking one pant leg. Katiya stands before him, bloody blades raised to strike. He has his sword up, but his arm is bloodied too and shaking so hard even I can see it.

“No!” I yell.

My stomach roils. It’s difficult to breathe as I stare in horror at my friend.

Galen can’t lose. It can’t end this way, not after he risked himself to free me from his mistake.

Please!

I clutch my necklace, unable to look away as Katiya’s blades begin their descent.

“No!” I cry again.

My screech is met with the ring of metal.

I blink once, twice, trying to comprehend the sight before me. A blond fae appeared next to Galen. The sword she holds, poised just above and in front of him, took Katiya’s blow. Galen gapes, wide eyed, staring at the weapons that would have been his demise.

Sylvie.A shuddering sob racks my form.It has to be Sylvie.

Katiya leaps back with a roar of frustration, and I can breathe again.

Galen is alive. Even better, he has backup.

Sylvie takes a stance in front of Galen, facing down Katiya. It gives him the moment he needs to recover and, albeit wobbly, take his place at Sylvie’s side.

Two on one.

They can do this. They must.

I whirl back toward the tornado and the barely visible battle raging within. The torrent of dust and debris caught in the wind’s thrall swirl around them, obscuring some of the view, but what little I can see is grim. Sigurd is injured and flagging, his back nearing the gale.

My nails cut grooves in my palms as I stare them down.

I won’t lose him. I refuse to lose any more people who matter to me.

Without another thought, I rush toward the twister. Each step is a fight to stay upright and move forward. My hair whips around my head, obscuring my vision. My clothes risk being ripped from my body. Little bits of grass and dirt find their way up my nose, causing me to cough and gag. I throw an arm in front of my face, trying to block the onslaught as best I can.

There are feet to go, but I can’t stop now, not this close.

A sudden strong gust sends me to my knees. I dig my nails into the soil, trying desperately to find purchase and not be swept away. Dust stings my eyes, causing them to water. I manage to crawl forward, but the sight ahead roots me in place.

Sigurd kneels on one knee, blade raised, deflecting a blow from Kallan.

The Unseelie king is wounded too, blood dripping down one arm, but he shows no sign of backing down, even as he takes his time readying for the next blow.

“Stop this!” The tornado steals my words. Neither react.

I dig deeper into the dirt, feeling a sharp bite as my nail cracks. “Sto—”

The rest of what I planned to say ends in a scream as vines erupt from the ground under Sigurd and Kallan. They climb skyward, twisting and flailing like a giant squid emerging from the ocean to pull a ship into the depths. But their actions aren’t random. In seconds, both Sigurd and Kallan are wrapped tightly in their embrace. Arms are wrenched until blades fall to the barren land. The tornado vanishes in an instant. The cloud of debris drifts to the earth, bits of grass landing on me where I still crouch upon the ground.

---