by Everly Frost
Our acid rain won’t harm the elves below us because of the shield across them, although a big part of me hopes it will upset Grayson’s concentration. I follow the falling crows, checking Grayson’s response. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I jolt with surprise as he continues to watch me, his eyes half-open slits—even when each drop of our acid rain onto his protective shield makes him flinch with pain. His hands are shaking. Talia and Elise have stopped screaming but their arms drop to their sides, the shield wobbling. Worry races through me because the reason they’ve stopped screaming is because they are almost unconscious.
It looks like Grayson isn’t fairing much better.
“Marbella!”
Baelen’s shout has me spinning back as a final crow spears down toward me from above. It must have been right in the sun for me to miss it. Baelen’s open hand flashes out between us, ready to pluck it out of the air in front of me, but before he touches it, its body explodes.
I gasp in surprise. Baelen jolts. White dust floats over us.
White dust… That’s sorcery…
I spin to Grayson in the distance. His eyes are wide open now. For a second, his gaze burns me across the distance.
Did he just kill the bird so it couldn’t hurt me?
He looks away, and I force myself to focus on Talia and Elise. Baelen’s worried glance tells me the shield is about to break. He flies back toward the cliff top. We need to prepare for when the shield comes down; we need to get Talia and Elise out of here because they’ll be vulnerable and unable to defend themselves.
As soon as he speaks to them, Llion and Liliana immediately rise up and fly toward Talia, stopping in front of the shield, ready to carry her away as soon as it breaks. Erit and Indira head toward Elise. They will take them as far behind the battle lines as they can to give them time to recover.
It’s time for the Outliers to do the same.
“Senturi!” I call to the older gargoyle. “You have fought bravely. You’ve protected us all. Now I want you to take the Outliers and go to the back of our army. I need you to regain your energy and form our final defensive line if the elves get through.”
He places his hand on my shoulder, his wings beating the air across my body. “We will be ready.”
Baelen calls our gargoyle friends together onto the central peak. As I land on the cliff top beside him, Jordan and my Storm Command are shaking their heads. Baelen has just told them to leave as well. Jasper and Sebastian are also determined to stay and Roar, Welsian, and Arlo plant their feet next to my ladies, but Roar kisses Gilda fiercely and tells her to go with Indira.
As Gilda reluctantly flies away, casting glances back at her husband, a crack tells me that our shield is finally gone. The glistening barrier disperses into nothing and Talia and Elise drop to the ground, hunched over their knees, heads low, barely conscious. They’ve done so much for us. I wish I could fly to each of them, hug them, and tell them to be safe, but the battle on the ground is about to begin.
I race to the edge of the cliff with Baelen close beside me, assessing where we are needed most.
The protective shield that Grayson placed over the elven army dissolves and a shout goes up as Grayson mobilizes them. Inside the ravine, the elves surge forward, screaming a battle cry. The sound of clashing swords echoes up to the cliff top, sending a shudder down my spine. I want to fly down to fight them but the gargoyles who had been safe behind the shield spring into action, ready to meet the elven army in combat.
The elves are skilled fighters, but the gargoyles have everything to lose. They fight with their clawed feet and wing daggers that can slice through rock and make easy work of elven armor. Twenty gargoyles rise into the air with elves in their claws, ripping them apart. The hidden caverns also open up, sending a volley of arrows into the attacking elves.
Golden-tipped arrows fly toward Grayson, piercing his chest and arms, sending him spinning before he can use his power against the gargoyles. My eyes widen in amazement at the resilience and power of my people, the way they don’t cower in the face of his sorcery, the way they fight back with everything they’ve got.
But what truly surprises me is the restraint Grayson shows. Plucking the arrows out, he doesn’t retaliate with magic, floating above the elves and shouting orders while he dodges the next volley of arrows. Like me, he could decimate the enemy army, but so far he has chosen not to. Maybe it’s the gargoyle inside of him, but despite what he said earlier about killing my people, so far he has chosen to allow the elves and gargoyles to fight each other without his interference.
Baelen seeks my attention with a gentle touch to my arm. “The shield is down but the Elven Command hasn’t tried to fly past us yet.”
“We need to find them before they do.”
“And end them,” Baelen says. “One way or another.”
The Elven Commanders, along with Priscilla, have disappeared into the groups of elves located at the back of their army—among soldiers in the major Houses who have not engaged in battle yet and furthest from the battlefront: an unexpected move.
“There,” Baelen says, pointing. “Elwyn Elder is with his House. I’ll go after him.”
I look for Pedr Bounty and locate him among other elves in the House of Bounty. “I’ll take Pedr Bounty. I don’t see the other two yet.”
“We’ll find them. Be on the lookout.”
“Be safe, Baelen.”
He kisses me before we separate.
I zoom toward Pedr, covering the distance in several seconds, a tornado shrieking around me. The Bounty elves see me coming and scatter, shouting to each other, forming a large ring around the space where I land. I hit the ground only paces away from Pedr, my knees bending to take the impact so that I can land firmly on my feet.
The tension in the air is palpable. A glance tells me that the soldiers are angry. Their faces are stony, full of rage, but it’s odd… because they’re glaring at Pedr, not at me. I’d expected them to swarm at me, but their swords are sheathed, daggers nowhere to be seen.
What have I just landed in the middle of?
Pedr squares his shoulders, turning from the soldiers and facing me instead, power glowing around his clenched fists. “Marbella Mercy, you won’t live to see the end of this day.”
I don’t validate his statement with a response. I strike with lightning first, testing his ability to withstand my power. It’s safe enough to hit his bulky body without endangering the nearby elves. His eyes widen as he throws his hands up to defend himself, using his sorcery to deflect the impact, fighting back with a shot of his own: a streak of green death. I nearly dodge it and then decide not to because… if it doesn’t hit me, it will hit his people and—to my disgust—he doesn’t seem to care.
I have no love for these elves, but the surrounding soldiers haven’t challenged me or tried to get in my way. The death blow hits me square in the stomach and the watching soldiers inhale an audible gasp as I drop to my knees.
Pedr gloats and I let him have his moment. Sure, it hurt like an iron fist, but I’ll be okay. A single glance at the soldiers tells me they are downcast, crestfallen, one of them even reaches for me as if he’s going to help me up.
That is not the reaction I expected.
With that single attempt to hurt me, I sense Pedr’s power wane. He used up a lot of his energy creating that death bolt and I haven’t used my strongest power yet. Pedr may have taken a hundred lives in the night, but only Grayson can withstand my destructive strength. I roll with the next flash of death that Pedr throws at me, sensing his energy fade even more. The bolt grazes my shoulder but I heal instantly.
He scowls as I leap to my feet, completely unharmed.
Lightning crackles in the air all around me, licking toward every living thing nearby as I focus all of my power into my hands. I leap toward him, dodging the next blow he aims at me—a paralyzing shot. It sizzles past my ribs as I ram him, both hands planted on his flabby chest. My storm power shrieks through him: lightning a
nd wind together. His head snaps back and he flies backward. The watching elves open up like a splitting river, steering clear of him as he falls. His body bounces and flops, landing half on his side.
I approach carefully, quickly scanning him for signs of life. I’m not convinced he’s beaten…
I’m bent halfway to him when his hand shoots out, fist slamming into my throat. The impact of the bone-splitting blow thrusts me halfway across the clearing. I cry out as my head hits rock and pain explodes through my spine, my legs going limp.
This time, I’m hurt.
My throat burns and my head throbs. I sense Virtuous healing me, but I took the blow full in my neck and it’s going to take a few seconds.
Seconds I don’t have.
Pedr Bounty clambers to his feet and pounds toward me, his big body shaking the earth as he runs across it. He’s leaking sorcery everywhere like slimy oil, which tells me I’ve hurt him badly—he can’t control his own power.
He holds his hand, palm out toward me. I’m vulnerable and he’s going to finish me off the same way I tried to kill him.
35. Marbella Mercy
I scream at myself: Get up, Marbella! Now!
All I manage is a groan. With horror, I realize that my back is broken. His sorcery shattered my spine. Virtuous is healing me, but I need another few seconds.
You don’t have seconds. Get up!
I push with my hands, screaming. My legs won’t work no matter how hard I try. As I attempt to roll onto my side, my vision fills with boots…
Soldiers… lots of soldiers… moving to stand in front of me...
Astonished, I follow the nearest pair upward from thick thighs to a bullish chest and a face I never wanted to see again. Pedr Bounty’s grandson, Gwynn, the male who pinned Jasper during the fight in the arena all that time ago, who was complicit in hurting me and almost killing Baelen, the male who told me he saw me fighting on a mountaintop, plants his feet, lifts his sword, and tells his grandfather, “Stop right there.”
Pedr’s eyes are filled with blood as he skids to a halt, his robes swooshing around him. He is unfocused, deranged. “All of you! Get out of my way. I will finish her!”
Gwynn’s voice rises to a roar. “You killed our mothers in the night. You killed daughters of the House of Bounty. Do you want my blood on your hands too?”
“I am not your enemy. That female is—”
Gwynn doesn’t let him finish. “We’re done listening to you. We won’t kill for you today.”
A glance tells me that the soldiers on the other side of Pedr are closing in, but not on me. They are targeting the Elven Commander.
Pedr snarls, “You would rather follow this bitch than your own grandfather?”
Gwynn casts a glance at me. “I will follow my Queen.”
Pedr startles, blustering, “What are you… talking about?”
“We know the truth. We’re not stupid. There’s no way you’d spend this much time trying to capture her if she couldn’t challenge your rule.”
Pedr roars in anger, blood-filled spit flying from his mouth. He’s had enough. His hand shoots out. A death bolt flies straight for Gwynn.
But Gwynn has given me precious seconds. Virtuous has finished healing me.
Gwynn’s boots are right next to my feet. I flick one leg out, hook it around Gwynn’s ankle and pull, sweeping his feet out from under him so that he falls onto his back. The death bolt flies over the top of him, narrowly missing the other elves. Lucky Pedr was aiming for Gwynn’s face and he’s almost as tall as Baelen.
Gwynn’s reflexes shoot into action. It was a hard fall that will leave him bruised, but he rolls and punches off the ground, returning to his feet. The other males roar at Pedr, their anger palpable.
I spin into the space Gwynn left behind, leap to my feet, and close the gap between me and Pedr. The males have left enough space around him for me to do what I need to do.
It’s time to fight the old-fashioned way. My knee connects with his stomach. An uppercut breaks his jaw. My left fist follows through, knocking him flat on his back where I drop a knee onto his chest. I press my open hands against his temples and fill my whole body with destruction.
As Pedr’s eyes meet mine, there’s nothing living in them. They are wide pools of bleeding darkness.
“Goodbye, Pedr Bounty.”
Brilliant white light streams from me into him. He opens his mouth, a soundless scream, before cracks appear beneath his skin, burning from the inside, burning to dust. Within seconds, he is gone. My knees hit the ground and I roll through the cloud of grit that remains.
I find my feet to silence.
Gwynn Bounty takes a knee. The remaining Bounty soldiers follow him, all hundred of them in a cascading wave. I can’t decide if I’m shocked or in awe of this strange turn of events. They’re drawing attention from the other Houses and I have no way of knowing if the others feel the same as these soldiers or if they’ll attack me. If each of the Elven Commanders took lives from their own Houses, then the elves of Splendor, Valor, and Elder might carry the same anger as the Bounty soldiers, but there’s no way to know.
Gwynn’s voice is a rumble. “What are your orders, my Queen?”
I once told Gwynn that I never wanted to see his face again. It’s strange to be glad that he has forgotten that order. I consider my options now. I won’t order them to attack other elves. I could test my power and fly them all across the gargoyle border to join the gargoyle army to provide support. Or…
“How many lives?”
He knows exactly what I want to know. “Fifty females, including my mother.” He points to particular soldiers as he speaks and they return my questioning look with expressions of rage and betrayal. “His mother. His aunt. His grandmother. His sister…”
I inhale a sharp breath, shaking my head at the extent of Pedr Bounty’s cruelty. “Then I order you to go home.”
Gwynn is taken back, his chin jolting upward. “My Queen?”
My eyes swim with the pain of so many senseless deaths. “Go home and bury your loved ones.”
“But… don’t you need us…” He gestures to the battle a thousand paces away.
“It’s true that I do need your swords. But what I need more is that your swords are not raised against me. Please, take your soldiers and do what is right for your families.”
He rises, advances on me, towers. He is a giant. I once thought of him as a bull and that is still an accurate description. He presses his lips together, turning them white, his emotions spilling over. “You could make us stay and fight for you, but you have chosen not to. You are already a better ruler than we have ever had.”
He spins and signals to his House, roaring. “House of Bounty! Fall out!”
They march away, their boots thudding resolutely on the ground. The other Houses watch them with alternating expressions of surprise and alarm as the empty space where the House of Bounty used to stand grows wider and wider. Confusion grows on the faces of the other elves. Some of them grab their weapons and aim them at me. Others are having trouble picking up their jaws. There’s nobody here to give them orders and they don’t know what to do.
As Gwynn and his soldiers march away, they stride right past the cage of shadow panthers. I walk up to it as the beasts growl at me, baring their teeth, their hackles raised. Their silver eyes flash in the sunlight, steel claws extended, gripping the earth. They smell my gargoyle blood.
Erit once told me that the ancient gargoyle Grievous only gave his life to become part of our new world because it was an opportunity to give birth to such dreadful creatures as shadow panthers and talon crows to forever remind the gargoyles that life is cruel. I take hold of the bars, gritting my teeth as the nearest panther leaps for me, its jaws open, ready to rip my hands apart. I release Incorruptible power into the entire cage, lighting it up like a bonfire. Every beast glows for a moment, skeletons burning bright beneath their skin before they shatter.
Seconds later, the smoke clear
s. Piles of dust waft away in the breeze. The panthers won’t hurt my friends now.
Nearby elves back away from me as I stride away from the spot where the cage used to be. I scan their faces and raise my voice. “I could kill you all. Just like that. But I won’t. Because you are my people too.”
Their confusion grows, but I don’t have time to say anything else because an explosion nearby has me running. A banner bearing the crest of the House of Elder floats past me, half-shredded.
Baelen!
As I take to the air, searching for him, I quickly assess the progress of the elven army at the border. Despite the gargoyles’ ferocity, the elves have made ground. My heart sinks to see Grayson fighting a gargoyle as he advances further along the ravine than I anticipated.
But I frown as I realize… he’s fighting with his hands, not his power. What is going on with him?
And where is Priscilla?
I find her soaring to my right. She smirks at me before she sails away on her stallion, headed for my ladies again. I spin between Grayson and Priscilla, assessing both threats.
I shudder hard because I know I should go after Grayson, but my ladies are more vulnerable right now. Speeding after Priscilla, I finally locate Baelen to my right, on a cliff top further along the border. Elwyn Elder is throwing everything he’s got at him, his sorcery colliding with Baelen’s storm. The air around their battle explodes and shards of rock blast in all directions as Elwyn aims a death blow at Baelen, narrowly missing him. Baelen retaliates by creating a tornado that tosses Elwyn into the air. It looks like Baelen has deliberately drawn Elwyn away from the main battleground to avoid collateral damage, but it places him much too far away from me.
My head spins as I reassess my priorities.
The gargoyles in the ravine need me. My Storm Command needs me. Baelen needs me. And they’re all in different places.
Priscilla doubles back, zipping past, stinging me with a painful blow to my side. She’s definitely trying to get my attention. She hits me again, her next shot more insistent, striking the side of my neck. Grayson told her to be afraid of me, but she obviously didn’t listen. She ducks the lightning I send in her direction and soars straight for my ladies, drawing me away from both Grayson and Baelen.